Bombshell (4)
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To everyone in the British Isles — indeed, to everyone in the world who was following the case — St.-Leger's allegation was a bolt from the blue. No one had seen this coming.
The great question, of course, was whether or not to believe it. To George IV himself, here was a sign that the wife he hated had deserved his hatred from the beginning; that Canning had betrayed him long before his resignation; and that the daughter who had turned against him had never been his in the first place. Everyone (even his allies, though they tried to hide the fact) thought him a hateful, worthless man who had driven away his wife, his daughter and everyone else who was not an inveterate flatterer, but now he had evidence that he had been right all along, that his cause was just, that he was as wronged and misused as he felt himself to be.
As for the king's political allies, even they did not truly respect him. The idea that the great philanderer was a cuckold had, perhaps, a certain charm. And certainly the claim was in character with everything they had been saying about Caroline… although they had certainly not expected Canning's name to come up. Nonetheless, it had to be looked into.
This was the official position of Lord Liverpool's government. "We cannot allow such a terrible charge against our Royal family and a valued servant of the Crown to go unanswered," said Castlereagh, demanding the recall of George Canning (a man with whom, as many now recalled, he had once fought a duel).
Caroline denied the allegation at once — as did Mr. Canning, as soon as he learned about it. (The Cannings had at this point arrived in Vienna. Upon hearing the news from London, Metternich immediately had them escorted to Rijeka and hired a ship to take them home.)
As for the Queenites, they not only considered the claim a lie, they believed they knew whence it had come. According to the pamphlet The Plot Against Our Princess (still in circulation at this point) the Tories had a scheme afoot to disinherit Charlotte Augusta in favor of little Victor Alexander — and had the government not brought Aloïse St.-Leger to London at great expense, paid her to utter these dreadful lies and returned her safely as soon as her work was done? What more proof could anyone ask for? And there was only one reason why the Tories would want to cast the princess aside — they intended to do away once and for all with the last traces of freedom in the British Isles, and knew that she would never stand for it…
In a dozen cities, not just Manchester and Glasgow, the Radicals were preparing for civil unrest. Although neither Burdett nor Wilson nor, certainly, Brougham had any intention of initiating violence, none of them had any doubt as to the will of Lords Liverpool and Castlereagh. Unemployed workingmen met in the fields outside the cities to drill like soldiers — which many of them had been not long ago — training themselves in the art of organized protest.
And then the other shoe dropped…
Bertrand Martineau and P.G. Sherman, The Great Scheme
Saturday, July 22
About 2 p.m.
The Tower of London
One good thing about having an office in the Tower of London, Wellington thought, was that there were several layers of walls between yourself and the angry mobs.[1] Good solid stone walls, too, and a wide stretch of ground. You could hardly hear them at all.
Not that Wellington was ignoring the public unrest. Just this morning Thomas Erskine, Earl of Kellie, had handed him a very long anonymous letter he had received, which included some alarming passages: “Castlereagh may calculate upon the support of the army to degrade the Queen, against the wishes and will of the people, but I will tell him, not one hair of her head falls to the ground by the consent of the brave soldiers who owe her their allegiance as their rightful queen… if he will contrive to bring all the troops around the metropolis together, he may ascertain their feelings towards the conspirators against her Majesty.”[2] Wellington wished he could have laughed it off, but from what he was hearing from his own subordinates, he wasn't so sure.
There was a knock on the door.
"Come in."
"Message from Lord Castlereagh, Your Grace," said the boy, handing him a sealed envelope. "He says it requires your immediate attention… begging your pardon."
"Thank you." Wellington was not in the habit of allowing unread correspondence to pile up on his desk. The last time he had put off reading a message was five years ago at Roxbury, and he had been preoccupied with winning a battle at the time. He took the note. It couldn't possibly be as bad as the news he'd gotten at Roxbury.
"By your leave, sir," said the messenger, and ducked out. Probably he had been ordered to leave immediately, and not to attempt to find out what this was.
Wellington read the note.
It was worse than the news he had gotten at Roxbury.
[1] Here, as IOTL, Wellington is currently serving as Master-General of the Ordnance.
[2] Erskine got this letter in September IOTL.
The great question, of course, was whether or not to believe it. To George IV himself, here was a sign that the wife he hated had deserved his hatred from the beginning; that Canning had betrayed him long before his resignation; and that the daughter who had turned against him had never been his in the first place. Everyone (even his allies, though they tried to hide the fact) thought him a hateful, worthless man who had driven away his wife, his daughter and everyone else who was not an inveterate flatterer, but now he had evidence that he had been right all along, that his cause was just, that he was as wronged and misused as he felt himself to be.
As for the king's political allies, even they did not truly respect him. The idea that the great philanderer was a cuckold had, perhaps, a certain charm. And certainly the claim was in character with everything they had been saying about Caroline… although they had certainly not expected Canning's name to come up. Nonetheless, it had to be looked into.
This was the official position of Lord Liverpool's government. "We cannot allow such a terrible charge against our Royal family and a valued servant of the Crown to go unanswered," said Castlereagh, demanding the recall of George Canning (a man with whom, as many now recalled, he had once fought a duel).
Caroline denied the allegation at once — as did Mr. Canning, as soon as he learned about it. (The Cannings had at this point arrived in Vienna. Upon hearing the news from London, Metternich immediately had them escorted to Rijeka and hired a ship to take them home.)
As for the Queenites, they not only considered the claim a lie, they believed they knew whence it had come. According to the pamphlet The Plot Against Our Princess (still in circulation at this point) the Tories had a scheme afoot to disinherit Charlotte Augusta in favor of little Victor Alexander — and had the government not brought Aloïse St.-Leger to London at great expense, paid her to utter these dreadful lies and returned her safely as soon as her work was done? What more proof could anyone ask for? And there was only one reason why the Tories would want to cast the princess aside — they intended to do away once and for all with the last traces of freedom in the British Isles, and knew that she would never stand for it…
In a dozen cities, not just Manchester and Glasgow, the Radicals were preparing for civil unrest. Although neither Burdett nor Wilson nor, certainly, Brougham had any intention of initiating violence, none of them had any doubt as to the will of Lords Liverpool and Castlereagh. Unemployed workingmen met in the fields outside the cities to drill like soldiers — which many of them had been not long ago — training themselves in the art of organized protest.
And then the other shoe dropped…
Bertrand Martineau and P.G. Sherman, The Great Scheme
Saturday, July 22
About 2 p.m.
The Tower of London
One good thing about having an office in the Tower of London, Wellington thought, was that there were several layers of walls between yourself and the angry mobs.[1] Good solid stone walls, too, and a wide stretch of ground. You could hardly hear them at all.
Not that Wellington was ignoring the public unrest. Just this morning Thomas Erskine, Earl of Kellie, had handed him a very long anonymous letter he had received, which included some alarming passages: “Castlereagh may calculate upon the support of the army to degrade the Queen, against the wishes and will of the people, but I will tell him, not one hair of her head falls to the ground by the consent of the brave soldiers who owe her their allegiance as their rightful queen… if he will contrive to bring all the troops around the metropolis together, he may ascertain their feelings towards the conspirators against her Majesty.”[2] Wellington wished he could have laughed it off, but from what he was hearing from his own subordinates, he wasn't so sure.
There was a knock on the door.
"Come in."
"Message from Lord Castlereagh, Your Grace," said the boy, handing him a sealed envelope. "He says it requires your immediate attention… begging your pardon."
"Thank you." Wellington was not in the habit of allowing unread correspondence to pile up on his desk. The last time he had put off reading a message was five years ago at Roxbury, and he had been preoccupied with winning a battle at the time. He took the note. It couldn't possibly be as bad as the news he'd gotten at Roxbury.
"By your leave, sir," said the messenger, and ducked out. Probably he had been ordered to leave immediately, and not to attempt to find out what this was.
Wellington read the note.
It was worse than the news he had gotten at Roxbury.
[1] Here, as IOTL, Wellington is currently serving as Master-General of the Ordnance.
[2] Erskine got this letter in September IOTL.
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