The Dead Skunk
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Peacemakers (1)
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Donor
January 4, 1819
1:00 p.m.
Winchelsea, Sussex
Henry Brougham’s desk was a mountain of correspondence as great as the snowdrifts outside his window. Letters from city aldermen documenting the hunger and misery caused by the price of bread this winter, kept artificially high by the Corn Law. Letters from teachers whose experience was helping to shape Brougham’s ideas for nationwide education reform. A letter from a traveler in Lisbon informing him of preparations for a constitutional convention early this year. And, most importantly, letters relating to the planning of what Margaret fully intended to be the most sumptuous and spectacular wedding their means made possible.
And here, for some reason, was a letter from Viscount Sidmouth, the Home Secretary. As one of the most reactionary members of a conservative cabinet, Sidmouth was neither a political nor a personal friend. So what was he writing about?
On closer examination, he was writing to advise Brougham not to invite Caroline of Brunswick to his wedding. It seemed that after her visit in October, the Cabinet had decided that the next time the Prince Regent’s wife set foot in this country, Prinny would begin divorce proceedings against her forthwith. Of course, Sidmouth wrote, you will not wish to expose her to humiliation and scorn…
Brougham chuckled to himself. Did this over-promoted tax collector really think he could pull off a bluff like that? According to British law, there could be no divorce without either confession or proof of adultery, and if Prinny or his lackeys had such proof, they would already have announced it with great fanfare. (Proving Prinny himself had committed adultery — many, many times — would of course be very easy to do, but that wasn’t quite what they had in mind, was it?)
In any event, he could hardly neglect to invite Charlotte Augusta’s mother. Brougham had seen the young princess angry once before, and once was plenty. Margaret wouldn’t be happy about it either.
And yet… it might be a better idea, from a political standpoint, to keep Caroline out of the country a little longer. As of now, Prinny was an embarrassment to the Tories and an object of contempt to everyone else. The longer his wife remained abroad, the longer the public could continue to imagine her as an ideal figure of virtuous, persecuted womanhood. As a person, she was likelier to be a liability than anything else, but as a symbol…
This was assuming, of course, that the D’Issy Commission would be as big a failure as the “Delicate Investigation.” (Had that really been twelve — no, thirteen years ago? Prinny’s war on his wife had gone on for so long…) Even if Caroline slipped up and let the Commission find proof of her guilt, the public might forgive her, given how shabbily she had been treated by her husband. It would, of course, be the end of any hope for a Queen Caroline in a position of power and influence, but her daughter would still be unscathed. More importantly, none of this would reflect badly on one Henry Brougham, who would gain credit for having been loyal to her for as long as reasonably possible.
And if (which was more likely) the Commission brought forward a farrago of rumours and circumstantial evidence and tried to call it proof, that would be splendid. They would disgrace themselves and discredit the whole Tory establishment. The people of this nation had a positive horror of libel and slander, particularly directed against a woman.
All this went through Brougham’s mind in the time it took him to set down Sidmouth’s letter and pick up a fresh piece of paper to write the invitation.
1:00 p.m.
Winchelsea, Sussex
Henry Brougham’s desk was a mountain of correspondence as great as the snowdrifts outside his window. Letters from city aldermen documenting the hunger and misery caused by the price of bread this winter, kept artificially high by the Corn Law. Letters from teachers whose experience was helping to shape Brougham’s ideas for nationwide education reform. A letter from a traveler in Lisbon informing him of preparations for a constitutional convention early this year. And, most importantly, letters relating to the planning of what Margaret fully intended to be the most sumptuous and spectacular wedding their means made possible.
And here, for some reason, was a letter from Viscount Sidmouth, the Home Secretary. As one of the most reactionary members of a conservative cabinet, Sidmouth was neither a political nor a personal friend. So what was he writing about?
On closer examination, he was writing to advise Brougham not to invite Caroline of Brunswick to his wedding. It seemed that after her visit in October, the Cabinet had decided that the next time the Prince Regent’s wife set foot in this country, Prinny would begin divorce proceedings against her forthwith. Of course, Sidmouth wrote, you will not wish to expose her to humiliation and scorn…
Brougham chuckled to himself. Did this over-promoted tax collector really think he could pull off a bluff like that? According to British law, there could be no divorce without either confession or proof of adultery, and if Prinny or his lackeys had such proof, they would already have announced it with great fanfare. (Proving Prinny himself had committed adultery — many, many times — would of course be very easy to do, but that wasn’t quite what they had in mind, was it?)
In any event, he could hardly neglect to invite Charlotte Augusta’s mother. Brougham had seen the young princess angry once before, and once was plenty. Margaret wouldn’t be happy about it either.
And yet… it might be a better idea, from a political standpoint, to keep Caroline out of the country a little longer. As of now, Prinny was an embarrassment to the Tories and an object of contempt to everyone else. The longer his wife remained abroad, the longer the public could continue to imagine her as an ideal figure of virtuous, persecuted womanhood. As a person, she was likelier to be a liability than anything else, but as a symbol…
This was assuming, of course, that the D’Issy Commission would be as big a failure as the “Delicate Investigation.” (Had that really been twelve — no, thirteen years ago? Prinny’s war on his wife had gone on for so long…) Even if Caroline slipped up and let the Commission find proof of her guilt, the public might forgive her, given how shabbily she had been treated by her husband. It would, of course, be the end of any hope for a Queen Caroline in a position of power and influence, but her daughter would still be unscathed. More importantly, none of this would reflect badly on one Henry Brougham, who would gain credit for having been loyal to her for as long as reasonably possible.
And if (which was more likely) the Commission brought forward a farrago of rumours and circumstantial evidence and tried to call it proof, that would be splendid. They would disgrace themselves and discredit the whole Tory establishment. The people of this nation had a positive horror of libel and slander, particularly directed against a woman.
All this went through Brougham’s mind in the time it took him to set down Sidmouth’s letter and pick up a fresh piece of paper to write the invitation.
Did George really hate his wife that mucch? 
This is shaping up to be quite interesting
This is shaping up to be quite interesting
Lycaon pictus
Donor
Did George really hate his wife that mucch?
And more. He was not rational on the subject at all.
Thank you.
Yes, he did. She is the only queen consort not buried in Great Britain but in the Cathedral of Brunswick.Did George really hate his wife that mucch?
This is shaping up to be quite interesting
And her husband did really not want her to return to England and to receive the rights of a Queen. But she did not listen, became both queen and very popular (but died soon after, believing being poisoned).
Lycaon pictus
Donor
The next update is coming soon. In the meantime, here's a map of Central America.
The Nicaragua borders are not exactly right for this point in time....Guanacaste and parts of Alajuela are included with Nicaragua province
IN A.D. 1819
WAR WAS BEGINNING.
Infante Francisco obviously has a good handle on things. Though I see the CAm provinces may still want to break from centralizing forces of N.E.
Perhaps they could be returned directly to Madridès control..Or the C.G. Guatemala is upgraded to its own Vice-Royalty, they could easily pull in Panama or a good portion of it from N.G.
Approximately a little more NE to the San Juan river itself about midway between the lake and rio San Carlos.
Close enough...
voted with their feet in 1824 in anycase... but...see where you take the Central provinces.
voted with their feet in 1824 in anycase... but...see where you take the Central provinces.
Peacemakers (2)
Lycaon pictus
Donor
And bm79's knowledge has again made this much better than it would otherwise have been.
That the Bernard de Marigny administration was such a success was due less to its political support (the Radicals’ victory in ’18 was extremely narrow) than the fact that he took office at the beginning of a time of unexampled prosperity in Louisiana.
Wheat, corn, tobacco and cotton from the United States flowed down the river into the city to be sold abroad. In addition to this, it was in ’19 that Louisiana also saw the first exports of Yadkin and Shenandoah wines, which even after tariffs were cheaper than wine shipped across the Atlantic.[1] (Although Marigny never drank American wines himself, saying of them that “you get what you pay for — if that.”) Equally important were coffee, sugar and other products of South America and the islands, which came from across the Gulf to be sold in the United States. All this commerce left the Republic’s government flush with cash.
Another source of wealth was the casinos of New Orleans, legal, tax-paying establishments where the same Americans who had grumbled over paying tariffs were delighted to gamble their money away. With his own legendary love of dice, parties and general high living, Marigny himself seemed to exemplify the joyous spirit of the age.
And yet Marigny, like everyone else, knew that these good times would not last forever. With the growth of the U.S. road and canal networks, the day would come when they would not depend on any one port — even New Orleans. The thing to do, then, was convert the present wealth into a form that would provide permanent benefits. If roads and schools were built now, while the money was available, then in leaner years it would only be necessary to pay for their upkeep.
Villeré had begun the work the previous year, setting aside money for a lycée in New Orleans. Under Marigny’s guidance, the Assembly ordered the building of three more lycées (two of which were in Bâton-Rouge and St-Martinville, thus countering criticism that his administration favored the city of New Orleans at the expense of the rest of the republic) and a grande école at Fauborg St-Jean[2], on the former property of James Pitot, an ex-mayor who left Louisiana for the United States during the secession. Conservative resistance to all this public spending was less than one might expect — many of them had immigrant families in their parishes who saw education for their children as a path to social advancement.
The road from Bâton-Rouge to Fort Keane[3], being a military necessity (and partly a military expenditure), also encountered little resistance from Destréhan and the other Conservatives. The chief objections to it came from the local métis population (the “Redbones,” as they were known to anglophones) whose territory the road would go through. They mainly wanted to be left alone by the republic, and especially by its tax collectors. More seriously, some of them were escaped slaves or the descendents thereof. A road through their land greatly increased the danger that their old masters would come looking for them.
To this problem, Marigny had an elegant solution. Those inhabitants of the land who were employed building the road would have their five-year wait time for citizenship reduced by three months for every month of work they did. Once they became citizens, they could not legally be made slaves. If it were proven afterwards in a court of law that one of them had been a slave of another citizen of Louisiana, the government would compensate their former owner…
From April to June of 1819, the city of New Orleans played host to a great peace conference. Princes, rebels, governors and ambassadors from Spain came from all over Central and South America to negotiate the future of the Spanish possessions. There the republics of Tehuantepec and Gran Colombia and Argentina were first provisionally recognized, although it would take more than a year for Madrid to follow through. (Paraguay sent observers, but did not take part in the negotiations. Araucanía did not send anyone at all, and would not be officially recognized for another few years.) The viceroyalties of New Spain and South America, under the infantes Francisco and Carlos, respectively, were established. Central America from Chiapas to Costa Rica, along with the island possessions, remained under the direct control of Spain itself.
A less formal international affair was the arrival of another prince and viceroy, Edward Duke of Kent and Strathearn, recently created Viceroy of Canada, who came to New Orleans to celebrate his honeymoon with his new wife and old mistress, Thérèse-Bernardine Montgenet, better known as Madame de St. Laurent…[4]
-Michel Beauregard, A History of the Republic of Louisiana
[1] Not all the Italian immigrants in the South took up canal-digging.
[2] About where the Bayou St. John neighborhood is today.
[3] OTL Houston
[4] Charlotte Augusta securing the line of succession has given her uncles a lot more freedom.
Below: The flags of Spain, New Spain, The Viceroyalty of South America (also called the Virreinato Santísimo, or just the Virreinato), Tehuantepec, Gran Colombia and Argentina.
That the Bernard de Marigny administration was such a success was due less to its political support (the Radicals’ victory in ’18 was extremely narrow) than the fact that he took office at the beginning of a time of unexampled prosperity in Louisiana.
Wheat, corn, tobacco and cotton from the United States flowed down the river into the city to be sold abroad. In addition to this, it was in ’19 that Louisiana also saw the first exports of Yadkin and Shenandoah wines, which even after tariffs were cheaper than wine shipped across the Atlantic.[1] (Although Marigny never drank American wines himself, saying of them that “you get what you pay for — if that.”) Equally important were coffee, sugar and other products of South America and the islands, which came from across the Gulf to be sold in the United States. All this commerce left the Republic’s government flush with cash.
Another source of wealth was the casinos of New Orleans, legal, tax-paying establishments where the same Americans who had grumbled over paying tariffs were delighted to gamble their money away. With his own legendary love of dice, parties and general high living, Marigny himself seemed to exemplify the joyous spirit of the age.
And yet Marigny, like everyone else, knew that these good times would not last forever. With the growth of the U.S. road and canal networks, the day would come when they would not depend on any one port — even New Orleans. The thing to do, then, was convert the present wealth into a form that would provide permanent benefits. If roads and schools were built now, while the money was available, then in leaner years it would only be necessary to pay for their upkeep.
Villeré had begun the work the previous year, setting aside money for a lycée in New Orleans. Under Marigny’s guidance, the Assembly ordered the building of three more lycées (two of which were in Bâton-Rouge and St-Martinville, thus countering criticism that his administration favored the city of New Orleans at the expense of the rest of the republic) and a grande école at Fauborg St-Jean[2], on the former property of James Pitot, an ex-mayor who left Louisiana for the United States during the secession. Conservative resistance to all this public spending was less than one might expect — many of them had immigrant families in their parishes who saw education for their children as a path to social advancement.
The road from Bâton-Rouge to Fort Keane[3], being a military necessity (and partly a military expenditure), also encountered little resistance from Destréhan and the other Conservatives. The chief objections to it came from the local métis population (the “Redbones,” as they were known to anglophones) whose territory the road would go through. They mainly wanted to be left alone by the republic, and especially by its tax collectors. More seriously, some of them were escaped slaves or the descendents thereof. A road through their land greatly increased the danger that their old masters would come looking for them.
To this problem, Marigny had an elegant solution. Those inhabitants of the land who were employed building the road would have their five-year wait time for citizenship reduced by three months for every month of work they did. Once they became citizens, they could not legally be made slaves. If it were proven afterwards in a court of law that one of them had been a slave of another citizen of Louisiana, the government would compensate their former owner…
From April to June of 1819, the city of New Orleans played host to a great peace conference. Princes, rebels, governors and ambassadors from Spain came from all over Central and South America to negotiate the future of the Spanish possessions. There the republics of Tehuantepec and Gran Colombia and Argentina were first provisionally recognized, although it would take more than a year for Madrid to follow through. (Paraguay sent observers, but did not take part in the negotiations. Araucanía did not send anyone at all, and would not be officially recognized for another few years.) The viceroyalties of New Spain and South America, under the infantes Francisco and Carlos, respectively, were established. Central America from Chiapas to Costa Rica, along with the island possessions, remained under the direct control of Spain itself.
A less formal international affair was the arrival of another prince and viceroy, Edward Duke of Kent and Strathearn, recently created Viceroy of Canada, who came to New Orleans to celebrate his honeymoon with his new wife and old mistress, Thérèse-Bernardine Montgenet, better known as Madame de St. Laurent…[4]
-Michel Beauregard, A History of the Republic of Louisiana
[1] Not all the Italian immigrants in the South took up canal-digging.
[2] About where the Bayou St. John neighborhood is today.
[3] OTL Houston
[4] Charlotte Augusta securing the line of succession has given her uncles a lot more freedom.
Below: The flags of Spain, New Spain, The Viceroyalty of South America (also called the Virreinato Santísimo, or just the Virreinato), Tehuantepec, Gran Colombia and Argentina.
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Lycaon pictus
Donor
Thank you VERY much for taking up my suggestion.
Thank you for suggesting it. I'm already thinking of ways it can be used to make things even more complicated.
Awesome, an update!
If I may ask, what are the borders of Tehuantepec and Araucaní? And..what are they? Last I remember, the mexican radicals were arming the Mayans and holding their own in the south, so what happened to them?
If I may ask, what are the borders of Tehuantepec and Araucaní? And..what are they? Last I remember, the mexican radicals were arming the Mayans and holding their own in the south, so what happened to them?
Lycaon pictus
Donor
Yes. As for Araucanía, it's south of the Bío-Bío river. If that river doesn't show up on your map, it's south of Concepción. (Although at this point, Carlos thinks of it as a "troubled area" rather than a separate nation.)
I swear I'll have that world map ready soon.
Stolengood
Banned
Well, there IS a house in New Orleans, after all...Thank you for suggesting it. I'm already thinking of ways it can be used to make things even more complicated.
Speaking of, I'd love to see what the North American continent looks like in Skunk-verse, ca. 1819.