Merci mille fois
And given just what's transpired so far, I don't doubt it's a good read...Edit: Damn, no luck at either the Orleans or Jefferson Parish libraries...
Edit 2: found it on Amazon cheap
The Dead Skunk
- Thread starter Lycaon pictus
- Start date
Merci mille fois
And given just what's transpired so far, I don't doubt it's a good read...Edit: Damn, no luck at either the Orleans or Jefferson Parish libraries...
Edit 2: found it on Amazon cheap
Stolengood
Banned
I wonder, has Jane Austen managed to live a little longer ITTL?
Also, are Edgar Allan Poe and his foster parents, the Allans, still in Britain, at this point in time ITTL?
Also, are Edgar Allan Poe and his foster parents, the Allans, still in Britain, at this point in time ITTL?
Lycaon pictus
Donor
Alas, no. This was a great disappointment to her biggest fan, Charlotte Augusta.
They've left by now. (If I haven't mentioned that I have interesting plans for Poe, well, I have now.)
Stolengood
Banned
ALL THE SADS.
They left in 1820; thought for sure the events surrounding Caroline would've butterflied their leaving at that point...
Stolengood
Banned
Something that may be of interest; one Samuel Gridley Howe, abolitionist and future husband of Julia Ward Howe (she who wrote the "Battle Hymn of the Republic"), in OTL, travelled to Greece to take part in the revolution there due to the example Lord Byron had set -- in this TL, he might well go to Italy, instead:
Lycaon pictus
Donor
Something that may be of interest; one Samuel Gridley Howe, abolitionist and future husband of Julia Ward Howe (she who wrote the "Battle Hymn of the Republic"), in OTL, travelled to Greece to take part in the revolution there due to the example Lord Byron had set -- in this TL, he might well go to Italy, instead:
He'd definitely be inspired by Italy, but he'd be a bit young to take part in it. As for Greece, we'll see how long the war lasts. If nothing else, in an America that has two competing Underground Railroads (one going north and one going to Florida) an abolitionist should have no trouble finding something interesting to do.
And Merry Christmas to all.
Rise of the Queenites (2)
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Donor
The poet William Hone’s claim that George IV “spurn’d from his presence the Friends of his youth/And now has not one who will tell him the truth” was not entirely accurate. Although the King did his best to enclose himself in a cocoon of flattery and reassurance, there were still a few brave souls willing to undertake the painful task of bringing him bad news and persuading him to heed it (a process that often took the better part of two hours).
One of these was Lord Sidmouth, who sat at the heart of a spiderweb of paid informants that stretched from Kent to Connaught and the Orkneys. What these informants were telling him was not only that the King was almost universally loathed, but that virtually the entire country was preparing to rise in revolt. (As Brougham would put it: “No spy ever earned his bread by saying ‘I have infiltrated the ranks of your ill-wishers and found them to be harmless.’”) This goes a long way toward explaining why Sidmouth missed the early warning signs from Manchester and Glasgow — they were drowned out by a nationwide cacophony of false alarms.
The one piece of information that came through was that the Queenites were far more numerous than the King’s loyalists — particularly among the lower and middle classes. Even those who had no personal attachment to Caroline, or who were opposed to the concept of monarchy in general, saw her as a weapon with which to attack the status quo. Mary Shelley spoke for many when she said, “It is too great a stretch of the imagination to make a heroine of Queen Caroline, but I wish with all my heart downfall to her enemies.”
And as to the question which was supposed to be at the heart of the affair — had this woman been faithful to her husband, or had she not? — Sidmouth had to report that a surprisingly number of people seemed to believe that (a) Caroline had been indeed been faithful, and (b) if she hadn’t, it was his own fault for treating her so badly. (This was borne out in a farcical way by the crowd at one rally, who had shouted “Three cheers for Mr. Austin, the Queen’s son!”[1]) And of course there was no question in anyone’s mind who had been unfaithful first.
To George, all this meant only one thing — it was time to expose the sins of his wife before Parliament and the nation. The King’s secret weapons, the witnesses the d’Issy Commission had found, would be called forth. Once the honest, virtuous people of the British Isles learned of Caroline’s full iniquity, they would turn away from her in disgust. Thin as this hope might seem, it was shared by Castlereagh and Liverpool, whose ultimate intent was to tar Brougham, Burdett[2], Wood and the rest of the Radicals with the same brush used on the Queen they had shackled their reputations to.
The King’s other unofficially licensed truth-speaker was the Duke of Wellington, who had ordered soldiers to patrol the poorer neighborhoods every night in squads of six to nine after the first riots. The news Wellington brought was even worse. The soldiers in the army had sworn oaths to George III, but had not yet sworn oaths to his son — and were not likely to, the way things were going…
The May 1 mutiny in the Mews illustrates not only the popularity of Queen Caroline, but also the way in which dissatisfaction arising from a variety of different sources manifested as support for her.
About the time the new session began, the King and the Duke of York had begun moving troops into the capital to suppress the Queenite “riots” — many of which seem to have been actual riots, although the King’s faction was not good at drawing the distinction between riots and demonstrations. The King’s Mews at Charing Cross was overcrowded with armed men who were already unhappy at being ordered to suppress their fellow Britons, and whose pay was in arrears. It didn’t help that in the hurry to bring in the army, the chain of command had never been properly established, leaving the troops subject to frequently conflicting orders from their own officers, the Duke of Wellington and the Duke of York.
On May 1, Wellington and York were at Claremont House, putting aside their differences in an attempt to persuade the Queen to leave the country — or at least get her followers under control — when word reached them of a mass demonstration in Charing Cross. Both men were two well known to safely approach the demonstration, so they parked their coaches several blocks away. Even there, the shouts of “God save the Queen!” and “No Queen? No King!” could be clearly heard.
When they sent a servant to investigate, he returned with the horrifying news that the soldiers in the Mews had laid down their arms and joined the crowd. Sir Robert Thomas Wilson, hero of the Peninsular War and MP for Southwark, was speaking to the soldiers, praising their valor and urging them not to allow themselves to be used against their queen or their countrymen.
As quickly as possible, the 2nd Life Guards were summoned, and the crowd dispersed peaceably. The mutinying forced turned out to be three battalions of the 3rd Foot Guards (commanded by the King’s own brother-in-law, the Duke of Gloucester). This regiment was promptly transferred to Portsmouth and replaced with troops whose loyalty the Crown was certain of (or rather, whose disloyalty it was uncertain of).
Sir Robert Peel, investigating on Wellington’s behalf, discovered that tavern-keepers in the area had given free ale to the Guards for the express purpose of drinking the Queen’s health. Apparently they had done this on their own initiative — which proved that not everything the Queenites did could be traced to the machinations of Brougham, Wood and Wilson…
George Tierney and the rest of the mainstream Whig leadership were no happier about being entangled in the Caroline affair than Wellington was. “For the life of me I can feel no interest and little curiosity about these royal squabbles,” lamented Lord Holland. (Part of the problem may have been that Caroline’s principal champion, Henry Brougham, was so cunning and ambitious that he frightened people on his own side.)
Even more caught in the middle was George Canning. On May 8, he resigned his office. Interestingly, the King, who now suspected Canning not only of personal disloyalty but also of having been one of Caroline’s lovers, refused his resignation. Three weeks later, with the Pains and Penalties Bill before Parliament, Canning and his family fled the country for Europe — an act that even at the time was embarrassing to the government.
And, of course, there was William Wilberforce, who saw in the affair immense potential for disaster. “I fear lest it should please God to scourge this nation through the medium of this rupture between the King and Queen,” he said. In spite of poor health and failing eyesight, he did everything in his power to delay the investigation, and it was not enough.
On Saturday, May 13, accompanied by Tories Sir Thomas Acland and James Stuart-Wortley and the independent-minded Henry Bankes, he visited Claremont House in a last-ditch effort to reach a peaceful settlement. The crowd outside the house was hostile (Wilberforce was sure that if he had met them later at night, they would have thrown cobblestones at him) but the Princess persuaded them to let her guests through. She greeted them warmly, chiefly in recognition of Wilberforce’s work against slavery and the slave trade.
But her mother would hear nothing of Wilberforce’s proposals, either that she acquiesce in the omission of her name from the liturgy or that she agree to live in France and make only occasional visits to England’s shores. “If they wished me to stay abroad, why not leave me there in peace?” said Caroline. “No women of character could submit to the insults they have offered.”
Wilberforce returned in failure. The following Monday, the Secret Committee would meet for the first time. They would spend a week examining the evidence and would make their report on Friday, and he had no doubt what they would recommend. “Whatever ensues,” he wrote that evening in a letter to his wife, “it will always be a consolation to me to reflect that I have done my best to prevent all the evils that may happen.”
Bertrand Martineau and P.G. Sherman, The Great Scheme
[1] This is reported to have happened IOTL. (If you’ve lost track, Mr. Austin is that guy the Queen adopted as a child and was accused of being the mother of.)
[2] Sir Francis Burdett, a Radical so hardcore that in 1810 he was arrested and temporary locked up in the Tower of London on charges of libelling the House of Commons.
One of these was Lord Sidmouth, who sat at the heart of a spiderweb of paid informants that stretched from Kent to Connaught and the Orkneys. What these informants were telling him was not only that the King was almost universally loathed, but that virtually the entire country was preparing to rise in revolt. (As Brougham would put it: “No spy ever earned his bread by saying ‘I have infiltrated the ranks of your ill-wishers and found them to be harmless.’”) This goes a long way toward explaining why Sidmouth missed the early warning signs from Manchester and Glasgow — they were drowned out by a nationwide cacophony of false alarms.
The one piece of information that came through was that the Queenites were far more numerous than the King’s loyalists — particularly among the lower and middle classes. Even those who had no personal attachment to Caroline, or who were opposed to the concept of monarchy in general, saw her as a weapon with which to attack the status quo. Mary Shelley spoke for many when she said, “It is too great a stretch of the imagination to make a heroine of Queen Caroline, but I wish with all my heart downfall to her enemies.”
And as to the question which was supposed to be at the heart of the affair — had this woman been faithful to her husband, or had she not? — Sidmouth had to report that a surprisingly number of people seemed to believe that (a) Caroline had been indeed been faithful, and (b) if she hadn’t, it was his own fault for treating her so badly. (This was borne out in a farcical way by the crowd at one rally, who had shouted “Three cheers for Mr. Austin, the Queen’s son!”[1]) And of course there was no question in anyone’s mind who had been unfaithful first.
To George, all this meant only one thing — it was time to expose the sins of his wife before Parliament and the nation. The King’s secret weapons, the witnesses the d’Issy Commission had found, would be called forth. Once the honest, virtuous people of the British Isles learned of Caroline’s full iniquity, they would turn away from her in disgust. Thin as this hope might seem, it was shared by Castlereagh and Liverpool, whose ultimate intent was to tar Brougham, Burdett[2], Wood and the rest of the Radicals with the same brush used on the Queen they had shackled their reputations to.
The King’s other unofficially licensed truth-speaker was the Duke of Wellington, who had ordered soldiers to patrol the poorer neighborhoods every night in squads of six to nine after the first riots. The news Wellington brought was even worse. The soldiers in the army had sworn oaths to George III, but had not yet sworn oaths to his son — and were not likely to, the way things were going…
The May 1 mutiny in the Mews illustrates not only the popularity of Queen Caroline, but also the way in which dissatisfaction arising from a variety of different sources manifested as support for her.
About the time the new session began, the King and the Duke of York had begun moving troops into the capital to suppress the Queenite “riots” — many of which seem to have been actual riots, although the King’s faction was not good at drawing the distinction between riots and demonstrations. The King’s Mews at Charing Cross was overcrowded with armed men who were already unhappy at being ordered to suppress their fellow Britons, and whose pay was in arrears. It didn’t help that in the hurry to bring in the army, the chain of command had never been properly established, leaving the troops subject to frequently conflicting orders from their own officers, the Duke of Wellington and the Duke of York.
On May 1, Wellington and York were at Claremont House, putting aside their differences in an attempt to persuade the Queen to leave the country — or at least get her followers under control — when word reached them of a mass demonstration in Charing Cross. Both men were two well known to safely approach the demonstration, so they parked their coaches several blocks away. Even there, the shouts of “God save the Queen!” and “No Queen? No King!” could be clearly heard.
When they sent a servant to investigate, he returned with the horrifying news that the soldiers in the Mews had laid down their arms and joined the crowd. Sir Robert Thomas Wilson, hero of the Peninsular War and MP for Southwark, was speaking to the soldiers, praising their valor and urging them not to allow themselves to be used against their queen or their countrymen.
As quickly as possible, the 2nd Life Guards were summoned, and the crowd dispersed peaceably. The mutinying forced turned out to be three battalions of the 3rd Foot Guards (commanded by the King’s own brother-in-law, the Duke of Gloucester). This regiment was promptly transferred to Portsmouth and replaced with troops whose loyalty the Crown was certain of (or rather, whose disloyalty it was uncertain of).
Sir Robert Peel, investigating on Wellington’s behalf, discovered that tavern-keepers in the area had given free ale to the Guards for the express purpose of drinking the Queen’s health. Apparently they had done this on their own initiative — which proved that not everything the Queenites did could be traced to the machinations of Brougham, Wood and Wilson…
George Tierney and the rest of the mainstream Whig leadership were no happier about being entangled in the Caroline affair than Wellington was. “For the life of me I can feel no interest and little curiosity about these royal squabbles,” lamented Lord Holland. (Part of the problem may have been that Caroline’s principal champion, Henry Brougham, was so cunning and ambitious that he frightened people on his own side.)
Even more caught in the middle was George Canning. On May 8, he resigned his office. Interestingly, the King, who now suspected Canning not only of personal disloyalty but also of having been one of Caroline’s lovers, refused his resignation. Three weeks later, with the Pains and Penalties Bill before Parliament, Canning and his family fled the country for Europe — an act that even at the time was embarrassing to the government.
And, of course, there was William Wilberforce, who saw in the affair immense potential for disaster. “I fear lest it should please God to scourge this nation through the medium of this rupture between the King and Queen,” he said. In spite of poor health and failing eyesight, he did everything in his power to delay the investigation, and it was not enough.
On Saturday, May 13, accompanied by Tories Sir Thomas Acland and James Stuart-Wortley and the independent-minded Henry Bankes, he visited Claremont House in a last-ditch effort to reach a peaceful settlement. The crowd outside the house was hostile (Wilberforce was sure that if he had met them later at night, they would have thrown cobblestones at him) but the Princess persuaded them to let her guests through. She greeted them warmly, chiefly in recognition of Wilberforce’s work against slavery and the slave trade.
But her mother would hear nothing of Wilberforce’s proposals, either that she acquiesce in the omission of her name from the liturgy or that she agree to live in France and make only occasional visits to England’s shores. “If they wished me to stay abroad, why not leave me there in peace?” said Caroline. “No women of character could submit to the insults they have offered.”
Wilberforce returned in failure. The following Monday, the Secret Committee would meet for the first time. They would spend a week examining the evidence and would make their report on Friday, and he had no doubt what they would recommend. “Whatever ensues,” he wrote that evening in a letter to his wife, “it will always be a consolation to me to reflect that I have done my best to prevent all the evils that may happen.”
Bertrand Martineau and P.G. Sherman, The Great Scheme
[1] This is reported to have happened IOTL. (If you’ve lost track, Mr. Austin is that guy the Queen adopted as a child and was accused of being the mother of.)
[2] Sir Francis Burdett, a Radical so hardcore that in 1810 he was arrested and temporary locked up in the Tower of London on charges of libelling the House of Commons.
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I am on the edge of my seat. I've been reading Mantel's A Place of Greater Safety, and I have to say you've really captured the sense of a society which only needs one spark....
This TL is a tremendous achievement, bravo! You can write really well, which brings the material alive.
So now we see a resumption of the Star Chamber, or for US readers, the House Committee on un-British activities?
I remember in Britain people drawing parallels to the Caroline episode when the furore over Lady Di was at its height. In this case, you have conflated two political currents, which makes the whole thing much more dangerous.
It's been noted that the two British monarchs who showed good artistic taste (Charles I and George IV) showed such poor judgement in other areas...
Regards
R
So now we see a resumption of the Star Chamber, or for US readers, the House Committee on un-British activities?
I remember in Britain people drawing parallels to the Caroline episode when the furore over Lady Di was at its height. In this case, you have conflated two political currents, which makes the whole thing much more dangerous.
It's been noted that the two British monarchs who showed good artistic taste (Charles I and George IV) showed such poor judgement in other areas...
Regards
R
Wow, great TL! Wondering how all the politicking in Britain is going to play out...
Just curious, what does the "Republic of Louisiana" look like internally-is it French-speaking, English-speaking, or a mix? Also, how closely is it tied to the British Empire right now? If Britain becomes considerably more Tory than OTL (which you seem to be hinting at), then I wonder if relations between them and the Republic might take something of a downturn, and the Republic start making overtures to the US (say, free trade, right of access for US merchant shipping using the Mississippi, and ending the alliance with Britain in exchange for the US not trying to re-annex Louisiana).
Just curious, what does the "Republic of Louisiana" look like internally-is it French-speaking, English-speaking, or a mix? Also, how closely is it tied to the British Empire right now? If Britain becomes considerably more Tory than OTL (which you seem to be hinting at), then I wonder if relations between them and the Republic might take something of a downturn, and the Republic start making overtures to the US (say, free trade, right of access for US merchant shipping using the Mississippi, and ending the alliance with Britain in exchange for the US not trying to re-annex Louisiana).
Stolengood
Banned
It gives me great pleasure to announce that I have formally nominated this TL for a Turtledove. It SORELY deserves one.
Lycaon pictus
Donor
It gives me great pleasure to announce that I have formally nominated this TL for a Turtledove. It SORELY deserves one.
Thank you, Stolengood. Thank you all.
The Republic of Louisiana is majority-French-speaking, although since it's under British protection and the biggest trading partner is the United States, you can get by in English there. There is actually a big point of contention coming in future years between the Republic and Britain — slavery.
The Pains and Penalties Bill is going to be (as it was IOTL) sort of a trial conducted by Parliament. The standards for evidence will be lower than in a real trial, but Caroline will have Henry Brougham on her side.
Forgot about this...so the Ottomans can't even defeat Ali Pasha? Just curious, what's the specific POD?
At any rate, this is going to send shock waves through the entire Balkans and Middle East...for one, if Ali Pasha can defy the Ottoman army and get away with it, Muhammad Ali will figure that he certainly can. I expect he'll declare independence from the Ottomans soon-if not immediately, than certainly sooner than OTL. OTL, the Ottomans needed European help to defeat Muhammad Ali-here, they can't even defeat what basically amounts to an outsized Albania. Not to mention that, if Muhammad Ali ever gets close to Constantinople, it will be in Ali Pasha's interest to support him.
West European "support" of the Ottoman Empire during this time came from political expediency-it was a way to contain Russia. If the Ottomans go into terminal freefall-which they came close to during this time OTL, and which I think not being able to reconquer Albania will send them into-then at some point, the great powers are going to cut their losses and start looking for new clients. I can see Austria backing up the Serbs, France Egypt, Britain...Greece, maybe? Plus, Italy is going to be a major factor-IOTL, once they became a world power, they supported Albania, and I can see Ali Pasha turning into a major client of theirs. On the other hand, you seem to be hinting at an Italian-Greek alliance, which is also plausible...
Interesting TL, no matter what happens.
Lycaon pictus
Donor
The POD is the Battle of New Orleans. General Keane decides to move a little faster once he's on land, and he takes the city before Jackson can organize the defenses. Then things get complicated.
As for the Ottomans, remember that it's still only May of 1820, maybe six weeks after Metsovo, and they're fighting more than one set of foreign-armed rebels.
As for the Ottomans, remember that it's still only May of 1820, maybe six weeks after Metsovo, and they're fighting more than one set of foreign-armed rebels.
Stolengood
Banned
Everyone! Put up more noms for The Dead Skunk in the Turtledove thread; it's crucial that our man's work here must be recognized!
Thande
Donor
I recently discovered this TL and have just got up to speed. Smashing work, I have to say: the level of in-depth research is obvious and you have a lot of original ideas. It has all the hallmarks of a great AH.com timeline, i.e. footnotes after unlikely things saying "this also happened in OTL" and people ignoring updates in favour of making petty complaints about maps I have to admit it's probably just as well I didn't read it until now as our ideas have somewhat paralleled each other in some respects--I even independently made the exact same "Nancy Boys" joke in my TL...
I have to admit it's probably just as well I didn't read it until now as our ideas have somewhat paralleled each other in some respects--I even independently made the exact same "Nancy Boys" joke in my TL...Lycaon pictus
Donor
I recently discovered this TL and have just got up to speed. Smashing work, I have to say: the level of in-depth research is obvious and you have a lot of original ideas. It has all the hallmarks of a great AH.com timeline, i.e. footnotes after unlikely things saying "this also happened in OTL" and people ignoring updates in favour of making petty complaints about maps
Thank you. Praise from the author of "Look To The West" is awesome.
Pains and Penalties (1)
Lycaon pictus
Donor
On Monday, May 22, Lord Liverpool brought before Parliament “An Act to deprive her Majesty Queen Caroline Amelia Elizabeth, of the Title, Prerogatives, Rights, Privileges and Exemptions, of Queen-Consort of this Realm, and to dissolve the Marriage between his Majesty and the said Caroline Amelia Elizabeth.” This was universally known as the “Bill of Pains and Penalties” which, as Lady Cowper noted, made it sound “as if she was going to be fried or tortured in some way.”
The Act’s course through Parliament amounted to a divorce trial — but (as Brougham never tired of pointing out) a very strange trial, in which the plaintiff never appeared and the usual standards for evidence did not apply. This was meant to be the opening volley of the King’s war on his wife.
The second volley, however, could not be fired for another six weeks. By the time the bill had its second reading, the witnesses needed to be in London and ready to be brought before the Lords.
Finding witnesses had been no easy task. The people who knew the most of Caroline’s doings over the years were, of course, her servants — and she had always treated her servants well. Few were inclined to betray her, especially to the infamous lout of a husband whose cruelty had driven her abroad in the first place. Those who had suffered alongside her in ‘16 were particularly loyal. However, there were a few who had parted with her on bad terms. And over the course of her journeys Caroline and Pergami had been seen in public by a good many people, some of whom were willing to testify.
Two witnesses in particular were easy to find — Caroline’s former maid, Louise Demont, and her lover Giuseppe Sacchi, a former equerry of the household. They had moved to England last year and were now in London, living as man and wife and calling themselves “the exiled Count and Countess of Milan.”[1] Another witness, Captain Thomas Briggs of HMS Leviathan, was equally at hand. The chambermaid Barbara Kress was living in Karlsruhe. After a strong hint from Metternich, the authorities in the Grand Duchy of Baden released her to testify.
Most of the potential witnesses, however, were in France and Italy. The French government was publicly opposed to the D’Issy Commission, but cooperated with it in private. (Castlereagh took this as a sign that the French were at last learning their place.) However, the two most valuable witnesses drove the hardest bargain. Among other things, they insisted on being transported back to French shores immediately after their testimony.
And then there was Italy. The King’s original spy, the Baron Friedrich Ompteda, was long dead, a casualty of the Other Peninsular War.[2] However, there were others in Italy who might be willing to testify if offered enough money. There were, however, two problems with this.
The first was getting the Italian government to cooperate. In the negotiations, the government took a wolf-and-shepherd approach with the Earl of Westmorland, the British ambassador.
Prime Minister Buonarroti tried to drive the hardest bargain he possibly could. Since Italy was still short of money at this point, and its chief allies, France and the United States, had expenses of their own to meet, most of his proposals were of a financial nature — massive low-interest loans from the Bank of England, or tying the value of the ternesca to the British pound for a period of years. When Westmorland offered the counterproposal that the Royal Navy return certain warships which had been commandeered from the previous Italian states, Buonarroti responded, “Keep them. We’ll build better ones.”
And he was the shepherd. The wolf was King Joachim I, who vowed that Italy would never cooperate with King George’s wicked scheme at all. Queen Caroline, he said, was a personal friend of himself and a friend of the Italian people, and Pergami was a national hero, and it would be the height of dishonor to cooperate in the sullying of their reputations.
Castlereagh, reasoning that bribing a half-dozen Italians could not possibly be as expensive as bribing the entire kingdom, paid the witnesses even more (£20,000 each)[3] and had them smuggled out of the country, along with their immediate families. This was necessary because of the second problem — the prosecution of Queen Caroline was even less popular on the streets of Milan than it was in Terni. The people of Italy saw her as a good Englishwoman (if an unusually German one), unlike the villains who had unleashed the monster Morriset on them. Any Italian who testified on King George’s behalf would probably find it healthiest to move to America afterwards.[4]
Of course, the French and other witnesses soon found out what the Italians were being paid, and insisted on equal payments for themselves (except, of course, for Capt. Briggs, who was taking no money at all for this). Having collected the witnesses, it was then simply a matter of getting them over the seas, onto British shores, past the angry mobs of Queenites and into safe locations until their day in “court.”
Bertrand Martineau and P.G. Sherman, The Great Scheme
[1] IOTL, they weren’t together at this point, but were both calling themselves “count” or “countess.”
[2] IOTL, the star witness against Caroline was Teodoro Majocchi. ITTL, the authors of The Great Scheme don’t know about Majocchi because he died at Lake Como. I’m a little sorry I killed him. IOTL, he was a hilariously inept witness, saying “Non mi ricordo” (“I don’t remember”) in response to so many of Brougham’s questions that it became a national joke.
[3] This is 40% of what he was willing to pay Caroline to stay abroad for one year.
[4] IOTL, of course, the various governments of Italy were more than happy to cooperate with Castlereagh. However, there was still a good deal of popular resistance.
The Act’s course through Parliament amounted to a divorce trial — but (as Brougham never tired of pointing out) a very strange trial, in which the plaintiff never appeared and the usual standards for evidence did not apply. This was meant to be the opening volley of the King’s war on his wife.
The second volley, however, could not be fired for another six weeks. By the time the bill had its second reading, the witnesses needed to be in London and ready to be brought before the Lords.
Finding witnesses had been no easy task. The people who knew the most of Caroline’s doings over the years were, of course, her servants — and she had always treated her servants well. Few were inclined to betray her, especially to the infamous lout of a husband whose cruelty had driven her abroad in the first place. Those who had suffered alongside her in ‘16 were particularly loyal. However, there were a few who had parted with her on bad terms. And over the course of her journeys Caroline and Pergami had been seen in public by a good many people, some of whom were willing to testify.
Two witnesses in particular were easy to find — Caroline’s former maid, Louise Demont, and her lover Giuseppe Sacchi, a former equerry of the household. They had moved to England last year and were now in London, living as man and wife and calling themselves “the exiled Count and Countess of Milan.”[1] Another witness, Captain Thomas Briggs of HMS Leviathan, was equally at hand. The chambermaid Barbara Kress was living in Karlsruhe. After a strong hint from Metternich, the authorities in the Grand Duchy of Baden released her to testify.
Most of the potential witnesses, however, were in France and Italy. The French government was publicly opposed to the D’Issy Commission, but cooperated with it in private. (Castlereagh took this as a sign that the French were at last learning their place.) However, the two most valuable witnesses drove the hardest bargain. Among other things, they insisted on being transported back to French shores immediately after their testimony.
And then there was Italy. The King’s original spy, the Baron Friedrich Ompteda, was long dead, a casualty of the Other Peninsular War.[2] However, there were others in Italy who might be willing to testify if offered enough money. There were, however, two problems with this.
The first was getting the Italian government to cooperate. In the negotiations, the government took a wolf-and-shepherd approach with the Earl of Westmorland, the British ambassador.
Prime Minister Buonarroti tried to drive the hardest bargain he possibly could. Since Italy was still short of money at this point, and its chief allies, France and the United States, had expenses of their own to meet, most of his proposals were of a financial nature — massive low-interest loans from the Bank of England, or tying the value of the ternesca to the British pound for a period of years. When Westmorland offered the counterproposal that the Royal Navy return certain warships which had been commandeered from the previous Italian states, Buonarroti responded, “Keep them. We’ll build better ones.”
And he was the shepherd. The wolf was King Joachim I, who vowed that Italy would never cooperate with King George’s wicked scheme at all. Queen Caroline, he said, was a personal friend of himself and a friend of the Italian people, and Pergami was a national hero, and it would be the height of dishonor to cooperate in the sullying of their reputations.
Castlereagh, reasoning that bribing a half-dozen Italians could not possibly be as expensive as bribing the entire kingdom, paid the witnesses even more (£20,000 each)[3] and had them smuggled out of the country, along with their immediate families. This was necessary because of the second problem — the prosecution of Queen Caroline was even less popular on the streets of Milan than it was in Terni. The people of Italy saw her as a good Englishwoman (if an unusually German one), unlike the villains who had unleashed the monster Morriset on them. Any Italian who testified on King George’s behalf would probably find it healthiest to move to America afterwards.[4]
Of course, the French and other witnesses soon found out what the Italians were being paid, and insisted on equal payments for themselves (except, of course, for Capt. Briggs, who was taking no money at all for this). Having collected the witnesses, it was then simply a matter of getting them over the seas, onto British shores, past the angry mobs of Queenites and into safe locations until their day in “court.”
Bertrand Martineau and P.G. Sherman, The Great Scheme
[1] IOTL, they weren’t together at this point, but were both calling themselves “count” or “countess.”
[2] IOTL, the star witness against Caroline was Teodoro Majocchi. ITTL, the authors of The Great Scheme don’t know about Majocchi because he died at Lake Como. I’m a little sorry I killed him. IOTL, he was a hilariously inept witness, saying “Non mi ricordo” (“I don’t remember”) in response to so many of Brougham’s questions that it became a national joke.
[3] This is 40% of what he was willing to pay Caroline to stay abroad for one year.
[4] IOTL, of course, the various governments of Italy were more than happy to cooperate with Castlereagh. However, there was still a good deal of popular resistance.
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