shadow of britain

Chapter 868 Counterattack in Progress

The Viscount of Melbourne was a rather contradictory figure as a 19th-century Whig leader.

He never presented himself as a radical reformer like previous Whig leaders, and he couldn't even be considered a member of the reformist faction.

From the time he entered politics in his twenties, Viscount Melbourne's stance, to put it bluntly, was to sway with the Whig Party's general line; to put it more kindly, it was to adhere to the party's platform for a hundred years without wavering, regardless of who the party leader was or what the party leader advocated, he would follow and vote.

Of course, this may not be entirely due to his seemingly detached and easygoing personality.

After all, during his youngest and most energetic years, his life was completely disrupted by his troublesome wife, and he was exhausted from dealing with all sorts of rumors every day.

If we disregard his wife's affair with Lord Byron, this man was actually quite fortunate; in fact, he was among the luckiest people in the world. His mother, Lady Melbourne, was the mistress of the most prominent Whig social group in the late 18th century. Even when her son was still studying at Eton College and Cambridge University, she had already paved the way for him to enter British politics.

Furthermore, the Viscount of Melbourne was not originally eligible to inherit the noble title because he had an older brother, but his brother's unexpected death gave him property, a noble title, and the opportunity to rise to prominence.

In British high society, within this seemingly magically protected circle, no matter how many flaws a person has, they are unlikely to encounter major failures. Even if you are utterly incompetent, you can still live a comfortable and wealthy life.

Fortunately, the Viscount of Melbourne was not a good-for-nothing, and he had many advantages, so success was naturally within his grasp.

He rose to prominence in politics without much effort.

In terms of background alone, he was not only superior to a fellow like Sir Arthur Hastings, who had been toiled in the mud of a pigsty in the York countryside, but also to ordinary nobles of humble origins like the Duke of Wellington and the Viscount Palmerston.

Before the Duke of Wellington and his brothers rose to prominence, although they were sons of Irish nobles, their family's financial situation was extremely poor. When the Duke bought his position in the army, he had to ask his brothers to scrape together the money to make it.

As for the Viscount Palmerston, his situation wasn't much better than the Duke of Wellington's. Although he inherited his father's title of Viscount Palmerston while studying at Cambridge University, he also inherited a debt of £10,000 left by his father. In addition, this guy usually spent money extravagantly. If it weren't for the fact that he often received financial assistance from the ladies, he would probably have gone bankrupt long ago.

This is actually a major reason why Palmerston kept seeking government positions. Because of the pressure of debt, he could not accept being away from government positions for a long time. He could not earn enough income to pay off his debts and maintain his high standard of living by simply collecting land rent.

Of course, Viscount Palmerston is no longer bothered by such trivial matters as foreign debt.

After all, his official income as Foreign Secretary alone amounted to £5000 a year. Although this was only equivalent to one-eighth of the middle class as defined by the Earl of Dallamo, it was considered high in the realm of legal income for ministers, at least on a global scale.

After all, the Prime Minister's income was only £5000 a year after the Earl of Grey passed the reform budget. The income levels of the Foreign Secretary, Chancellor of the Exchequer, Home Secretary, and Secretary of State for War and Colonial Affairs were now on the same level as the Prime Minister's, slightly higher than the First Lord of the Admiralty's £4500.

This is also a major reason why those backbenchers are so eager to secure a place in the government.

After all, today's members of parliament are not the same as those 200 years from now. In 19th-century Britain, members of parliament did not receive any salary. In fact, if you wanted to propose setting salaries for members of parliament, you would be ridiculed and scorned by the nobles of the House of Lords.

The laughter contained both an instinctive contempt for the democratization of Parliament and a self-satisfied pride stemming from British tradition.

After all, the nobles in the upper house generally held the view that a true gentleman never lived off a salary.

A member of parliament's income should rightfully come from their family's real estate, rental income, and stock profits. Living on a salary means losing independence and is tantamount to being employed. How can an employed person be qualified to sit in parliament and make decisions about the country's future?
In traditional thinking, being a member of parliament has never been a profession, but an honor.

Being able to hold a seat in parliament means you have enough wealth to support yourself and your political ambitions.

If someone is broke but still tries to become a member of parliament, it's a blasphemy against the British constitution.

In this regard, the statement by Conservative Party leader Sir Robert Peel is quite representative: "The cost of holding a high position is very high, and without sufficient private wealth, it is easy to be dragged down by the cost of acquiring the position."

Peel's wording was quite euphemistic, but anyone with common sense could understand that he was implying that it was easy for someone without wealth to become corrupt once they rose to power.

Of course, the lords in the House of Lords were not as polite as Peel. In their own words, "If members of Congress were to live on a salary, they would serve only for their salary, not for the country."

In fact, His Excellency's opinion was not entirely without merit, because wealthy political figures like the Viscount of Melbourne and the Earl of Daramo rarely made mistakes on economic matters. Of course, those with strong material desires, such as the Viscount of Palmerston and the Viscount Godridge, were another matter entirely.

After all, even among nobles, there is a gap between the rich and the poor.

In Britain, the gap between impoverished nobles and wealthy nobles like the Earl of D'Armor was actually greater than the gap between impoverished nobles and beggars.

The differences in political views between nobles and wealthy individuals are as vast as the differences between Agares and Bar.

Although Viscount Melbourne was the leader of the Whig Party and came to power as the leader of a reformist party, he was actually a conservative.

He disliked the Parliamentary Reform Act, and as he himself said, he ultimately accepted it as an "inevitable evil." Ironically, however, the Reform Act became the foundation upon which the Whig government was able to exist.

His suspicious nature made him distrustful of any form of reform; he always believed that keeping things as they were was best. Or, not necessarily best, but keeping things as they were was never bad.

Education is nothing but a futile endeavor, and educating the poor is absolutely dangerous.

The worker's child?
Oh dear, you should just let them be!

Free trade is a scam, and elections are nonsense.

As for democracy?

There was no such thing. But despite this, the Viscount of Melbourne could not be considered a reactionary of the 19th century.

If you insist on calling him one, then he is an opportunist.

According to the Viscount of Melbourne, the government's entire responsibility is to "prevent crime and protect contracts."

As the leader of the government, all one can really hope to do is maintain the status quo.

Of course, although his political views have a somewhat conciliatory flavor, he is quite good at conciliating himself.

Although he disliked reform, he would constantly compromise if the party insisted on passing it in order to avoid large-scale conflict and division within the party.

With his wavering and contradictory thoughts, coupled with his affable social skills and effortless ability to manage people, he handled court affairs with nonchalance, even managing to bring a strong-willed colleague like Palmerston to a point of equilibrium through his mediation.

When many government officials came to report on their work, they often found him sitting on a messy bed, surrounded by all sorts of books and documents. Or they would find him shaving in his dressing room with a blank expression.

Many people might be angry at first, but they gradually accept this way of reporting. After all, everyone knows that this is a prime minister who can fall asleep in cabinet meetings; he is just that kind of easygoing guy.

In fact, if one day the prime minister suddenly starts asking them some questions in a serious manner, it might leave them bewildered and feeling as if they are facing a formidable enemy.

Even Victoria, a young girl who had only known the Viscount of Melbourne for a month, quickly accepted his personality and even became curious about his personality traits.

For example, this prime minister never wears a watch, because he hates being bound by time.

Furthermore, when the crows, nearly 60 years old, circled the branches, signaling that rain was imminent, he could sit under the tree and watch for an hour. He also expressed his incomprehension about Victoria's dislike of crows, stating bluntly, "I like crows. What's wrong with them?"

In short, he was a 19th-century politician who retained the languid aristocratic air of the 18th century. In a sense, if Talleyrand had been paired with the Viscount of Melbourne, they might have gotten along quite well.

This may be a key reason why the Viscount of Melbourne enjoys spending time at Buckingham Palace and is often by the Queen's side.

Ultimately, he preferred the court life with its 18th-century aristocratic flair to the tedious work of the government. It wasn't until he was 58 that he finally had the opportunity to put into practice the various court politics skills he had learned from his mother in his youth.

If he didn't genuinely enjoy his job and still harbor old-fashioned monarchical ideas, given the Viscount of Melbourne's current power and status, he wouldn't need to pay much attention to the Queen, nor would he need to spend every day being mistreated by this young woman who has become increasingly willful since ascending the throne.

Sir Robert Peel, leader of the Conservative Party, is a prime example of someone who doesn't indulge the Queen.

Although he was the leader of the Conservative Party, perhaps because he did not come from the aristocracy, Peel's attitude toward the Queen was not much better than his attitude toward George IV and William IV. In fact, just a few days ago, when Victoria announced her list of ladies-in-waiting, Peel couldn't help but lose his temper.

Because Victoria not only opposed the court customs promoted during Queen Anne's reign, but also insisted that the inner court should only have one head lady-in-waiting, eight senior ladies-in-waiting, eight ladies-in-waiting, and eight ladies-in-waiting.

Furthermore, because this young girl had long been confined to the Kensington system and had few female friends in aristocratic circles, she adopted the Viscount Melbourne's recommended list in its entirety, appointing the Marchioness of Lansdowne as Chief Lady of Court and the Duchess of Sutherland as Lady-in-Waiting. In addition, the Duchess of Bedford, the Countess of Charmont, the Baroness Lyttelton, and others were also selected for the Queen's inner court.

According to Disraeli, when the list was announced, Pierre, unusually, slammed his fist on the table at the Carlton Club in front of many Conservatives, stating that it was a blatant partisan personnel arrangement that showed no regard for the Conservative Party's reputation.

“If Your Majesty wants to turn Buckingham Palace into a Whig club, then we are not just for show.”

Contrary to most people's expectations, the usually mild-mannered Peel was actually persuaded by the Duke of Wellington, who was known for his straightforward temper.

However, it's no wonder that Peel was furious, because this list of inner court appointments was indeed a slap in the face to the Conservative Party.

Who would have thought that the list of appointed ladies-in-waiting consisted entirely of the wives or daughters of Whig ministers or members of parliament, and not even someone like Miss Flora Hastings, who at least appeared to be neutral on the surface.

Peel was ultimately a 19th-century politician. As a political leader who started in the House of Commons, he believed that even though the Queen was still young, she should be cautious and impartial in dealing with both parties, rather than handing over her inner court to the Whig ladies at the beginning of her reign.

Moreover, he didn't believe that Victoria wouldn't understand even this basic principle of politics.

The entrance to Carlton Club was filled with horse-drawn carriages and coachmen. The two Corinthian columns in front of the door still stood straight and majestic, and the black iron railings surrounding the steps exuded a cold and aloof atmosphere that kept people at a distance.

Upon entering, a strong smell of cigars, coal fire, and thick wool hits you.

In the hall, several Conservative MPs were talking in hushed tones. When they saw Arthur walk in, their eyes showed a moment of surprise and bewilderment.

After all, this was the stronghold of the Conservative Party, and Arthur's reputation as the Queen's favorite had long been known in Parliament and the newspapers.

Did he come at this time to provoke us, or to mediate?
Arthur remained calm, merely nodding to a few familiar councilors before heading straight to his study on the second floor.

The atmosphere there was even more somber, with the fireplace burning brightly and the flames flickering in the light of the copper wall lamps.

Peel stood by the window with his hands behind his back, looking out at the dense twilight over St. James' Park.

He was clearly not completely calmed down; his brows were furrowed, and his eyes were sharp as if he were ready to enter the palace at any moment to question the Queen.

“Arthur.” Pierre turned around, his voice restrained but clearly cold: “You’ve come all this way today, surely not just for pleasantries?”

(End of this chapter)