The Dead Skunk

[Stolengood]

By the way, what is the Marquis de Lafayette up to, at this point? He's not dead, is he?

Also... watched The House of Rothschild on TCM a couple of nights ago; it was very strange seeing a 70-something-year-old actor portraying the Wellington of 1814 (he was visibly MUCH older than Wellington should've been), much less watching him agreeably hobnob with Jewish people the rest of British society stick their noses up at... and having a very pleasant young actor portraying Metternich (yes, METTERNICH) was the icing on the cake of disbelief.

But one of the key plot points in the film involves the Allies floating a massive loan via the Rothschilds to help France rebuild after the war. What became of that loan ITTL, I wonder?

 

[Lycaon pictus]

(takes another bow to audience)

An update- delightful!

Question- with the Jacobins remaining a force, how will the 89 revolution be commemorated in this timeline? More plaster elephants or what?

In most of France (outside heavily conservative areas like the Vendée) the Revolution is seen as on the whole a good thing (with, okay, some crazy moments) and July 14 is a pretty nonpartisan national holiday, an occasion for wine, music and feasting. (Unlike the rest of France, the Jacobins also celebrate January 21 as a holiday. One guess why.)

Without giving too much away, the French government will be a little preoccupied during the fortieth anniversary, but the fiftieth will be commemorated spectacularly.

Speaking of golden anniversaries…

By the way, what is the Marquis de Lafayette up to, at this point? He's not dead, is he?

Also... watched The House of Rothschild on TCM a couple of nights ago; it was very strange seeing a 70-something-year-old actor portraying the Wellington of 1814 (he was visibly MUCH older than Wellington should've been), much less watching him agreeably hobnob with Jewish people the rest of British society stick their noses up at... and having a very pleasant young actor portraying Metternich (yes, METTERNICH) was the icing on the cake of disbelief.

But one of the key plot points in the film involves the Allies floating a massive loan via the Rothschilds to help France rebuild after the war. What became of that loan ITTL, I wonder?

After serving five years in the Chamber of Representatives, the Marquis de Lafayette was elevated to the Chamber of Peers. It was the Regency Council's way of letting him know they weren't mad at him for his falling-out with Napoleon. He's going to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of the Declaration of Independence on American soil, as he did IOTL.

There was no loan by the Allies ITTL, but the Rothschilds are on pretty good terms with the French government and don't mind loaning it money of their own accord. (One more thing for Conservatives to freak out about.)

The next update, by the way, will take us back to Hispaniola.

 

[Stolengood]

Thank you! More reasons why I love this TL.

 

[Stolengood]

...apologies for inadvertently bumping up this currently-hibernating TL thread, but... what ends up occurring with Anne Royall's colourful career, ITTL?

 

[Lycaon pictus]

...apologies for inadvertently bumping up this currently-hibernating TL thread, but... what ends up occurring with Anne Royall's colourful career, ITTL?

So far, at least, she hasn't had any reason to go to D.C. One of the smaller military reforms of Adams and Tompkins was a small but guaranteed pension for soldiers' widows. Since they wanted a bigger army, they needed to be able to say "if the worst happens, your wife won't starve." She'll still have to fight her husband's family for the money, of course. She'll also still have to deal with early-19th-century attitudes toward women in journalism, but what with the canals, the Cherokee and the border with Florida, there will be no shortage of interesting topics in Alabama and Georgia for her to write about.

 

[Stolengood]

So far, at least, she hasn't had any reason to go to D.C. One of the smaller military reforms of Adams and Tompkins was a small but guaranteed pension for soldiers' widows. Since they wanted a bigger army, they needed to be able to say "if the worst happens, your wife won't starve." She'll still have to fight her husband's family for the money, of course. She'll also still have to deal with early-19th-century attitudes toward women in journalism, but what with the canals, the Cherokee and the border with Florida, there will be no shortage of interesting topics in Alabama and Georgia for her to write about.

Thanks. Hope you include her, at some point; there's a lot more to her than just sitting on John Quincy Adams's clothes until he gave her an interview...

 

[Space Oddity]

Thanks. Hope you include her, at some point; there's a lot more to her than just sitting on John Quincy Adams's clothes until he gave her an interview...

Which is a myth.

As you are doubtless aware.

 

[Stolengood]

Which is a myth.

As you are doubtless aware.

Oh, I know. But if people know her at all, regardless of knowing her name or not, they know her for that.

 

[Stolengood]

And... I'm afraid I've lost track of the year TTL's in, at this moment. You haven't killed Thomas Erskine yet, I hope? That man might've served well under Queen Charlotte.

 

[Lycaon pictus]

Still 1822. Thomas Erskine is one of the very senior members of Charlotte's clique, but if he even lives long enough — which I'm not promising — will be quite old and more inclined to retire than take a government post. On the other hand, his sons David and Esmé (who survived Nancy and a POW camp alongside Wellington) will have work to do.

Apologies for the delay, by the way. Life has intervened again.

 

[Lycaon pictus]

In October of 1822, with casualty figures rising and no real improvement in the situation in Hispaniola, Riego was desperate for a way to bring more troops to the front, turn the tide of the war and save his government. Yet he did not wish to strengthen Carlos by asking for troops from the Virreinato Santísimo, and Francisco in Mexico City pointed out that New Spain could not afford to send too many troops away with the United States hungry for land.

Then he remembered that Spain had a source of manpower at hand — inconveniently distant, perhaps, but not much more so than Spain itself. It was the Philippines. He proposed to recruit soldiers from those islands to serve under peninsular and Criollo officers.

The Cortes liked the idea. Were not the Filipinos accustomed to a climate at least as unpleasant as Haiti’s? Might they not prove less susceptible to the plagues that were killing far more Spaniards than Boyer’s forces ever could? And (some members of the Cortes actually said as much out loud) were they not a good deal more expendable than so many Spaniards? The Army heartily approved, as this would mean not only fewer Spanish casualties, but many more opportunities for promotion. By the end of the year, the Cortes had given the order for ten new regiments to be organized. The first of these was placed under the command of the new-promoted Colonel Andrés Novales…

Robert W. Derek, Great Blunders of World History​

Boyer’s takeover of Haiti in late 1820 had been swift and merciless. King Henry I (formerly known as Henri Christophe) had been overthrown, betrayed by his own guards and killed in a matter of days. But the coup had missed one target. Prince Jacques-Victor Henry, sixteen-year-old son of the murdered king, had escaped assassination and fled to Caracas. No sooner had he arrived than he began attempting to recruit men to help him reclaim his father’s throne. He attracted a small following (generally estimated at less than 100) of young men eager for glory and old veterans of the European and colonial wars who now found themselves unsuited for life in peacetime.

What happened next is one of history’s enduring mysteries. Did Bolívar, angry at what he saw as the Haitian government’s betrayal, decide to make use of a potential enemy of Boyer? Was it one of Bolívar’s rivals trying to undermine his government? Henry Clay, or the government of Tehuantepec, trying to strike a blow against Spanish rule? Carlos, trying to create a casus belli to bring about war between Spain and Gran Colombia? Or was Jacques-Victor Henry persuasive enough to raise the money for everything he needed in the space of two years?

No one knows. All that is known to history is that by the winter of 1822, the prince’s tiny army had been fully equipped with muskets, powder, shot, and two light artillery pieces, and had obtained passage on a Tehuantepecan ship.

On December 27, the Santa Lucia, flying Colombian colors, arrived at the Barahona docks. Jacques-Victor’s army quickly disembarked, and the ship was gone again. Thanks to a recent outbreak of yellow fever, the Spanish garrison was effectively no larger than the prince’s force. Worse, it had been stationed on the western edge of town, anticipating an attack from inland at night by men armed with machetes. The last thing anyone had ever imagined was a well-armed force arriving by sea in broad daylight.

The fight was brief. When the garrison commander saw that he could not hold his position, he faced an impossible choice — retreat into the jungle in a weakened state and see his force massacred by Haitians, or surrender to the prince and possibly be massacred by him instead. He chose the latter, and was greatly relieved when Jacques-Victor spared his life. (Quarter was a thing that had rarely been seen in this war.)

A few weeks later, word reached Madrid — Spanish soldiers had been attacked by Haitians armed and transported by Colombians. The little war was about to get bigger.

Dennis Lincoln, A History of the Caribbean (Vol. 2)​

 

[Lycaon pictus]

The Class of 1822: People Born This Year Who Will Show Up Later​

Paul Verdon, born March 10 in Paris to middle-class parents. He will be intelligent and skilled with his hands, but severely mysophobic.

Anil Malakar, born April 30 of Bengali parents on a farm north of Trafalgar. He will develop an early fascination with Islam, but will find limited guidance on the subject in colonial British Florida.

Jeremiah Frederick Dent, born October 11 in White Haven, Missouri, just outside St. Louis. He’ll go to Fort LaBoeuf when he gets older.

 

[Stolengood]

By the way, my new user title references a little ditty from TTL that's always stuck with me...

 

[100Fathoms]

Glad to see this updated, Spain just can't seem to learn that the tighter you hold on to some thing the faster it slips from your grasp.

 

[Lycaon pictus]

Apologies. The excuse of the month is NaNoWriMo. I'm working on a novel based on "The Day The Icecap Died."

Anyway… remember how the 1820s were supposed to be the decade of peace after the turmoil of the 1810s?



The eruption of war in Southeast Asia in January of 1823 came as a surprise to no one. Burma and Siam had spent the previous year quietly laying in supplies, mobilizing troops and generally preparing for the next in their long series of armed conflicts while trying not to look as though that was what they were doing.

King Rama II thought he had a winning strategy for this war. He would stand on the defensive at first, allowing King Bagyidaw to strike the first blow while he prepared his counterstrike. While the king of Siam was holding his ground, the Burmese vassal Assam would rise in revolt against Bagyidaw, and the British in India would invade to support them. Then, when Bagyidaw pulled troops away from the Siamese front to fight the rebels and British, Rama would strike back. Siam would dictate terms and gain territory. Burma would be humbled, and henceforth boxed in between India and Siam. That was his plan.

He discovered too late that Bagyidaw had been making plans and forging secret alliances of his own. If Chandrakanta of Assam was an unhappy vassal to Burma, Chao Anouvong of Vientiane was equally discontented with Siam…


On the banks of the Mae Ping, north of Chiang Mai, on the morning of January 30, the two kings met at the heads of their armies.

This may have been a mistake on Rama’s part. If he had sent his “Front Palace”[1] Maha Senanurak[2], a more able general, to lead the army against the Burmese, history might have gone very differently. But Senanurak was back in Bangkok, tending to the administration of the realm.

In terms of numbers, the two armies were fairly evenly matched, but the Siamese suffered from two misfortunes. First, the attack on the Burmese left flank, which Rama had intended to be the killing blow, was itself outflanked by an unexpected attack from Chao Anouvong’s Lao forces. Pinned between two forces, that entire wing of Rama’s army was killed or forced to surrender.

Second was the death of Rama himself.[3] The elephant he was riding on was wounded, and in its convulsions hurled him from its back. His neck was broken in the fall.

With his death, Maha Senanurak became King Rama III, and he was already sorely needed. The Siamese army was in full retreat. The new king ordered the army to rally at Nakhon Sawan, but attacks on the supply train by Burmese raiders out of Terengganu made even this precarious.

But even as the city prepared to stand siege, the HEIC was assembling an army in Calcutta — not to relieve Siam, but to “liberate” Assam…

Harrison et al., A History of Southeast Asia​

[1] His heir to the throne.
[2] Who ITTL survived his bout with illness in 1817.
[3] IOTL he died in 1824.

 

[Lycaon pictus]

One of the enduring lessons of the Second Thirty Years’ War was that until France could defend a colonial empire, she could not afford to depend on it. Nevertheless, the mercantilist nature of 19th-century commerce created a strong incentive for a European nation with a market for tropical produce to secure a source of that produce. With Caribbean sugar now more expensive for France and Brazilian sugar disrupted by the ongoing revolution, Dupont de L’Eure and the Regency Council decided that the time had come for France to resume playing the game of empire.

It was Talleyrand-Périgord who first proposed the Pepper Coast[1] venture as a replacement for Dakar. The idea behind the venture was so simple that only a genius like Talleyrand could have conceived it — instead of shipping Africans to the New World in chains to grow sugarcane for France, why not simply pay them to grow sugarcane right where they were?

And he could hardly have chosen a better location for it. The Crou[2], who inhabited the Pepper Coast and points inland, had gained a reputation for savagery by simple virtue of self-defense — they were notoriously resistant to enslavement. Talleyrand’s representatives were only too happy to praise them for their manly defense of their rights and to point out that slavery existed nowhere within France or its possessions (which was in fact the case).

In early 1823, the French began building Fort St.-Napoléon on Cape Mesurado.[3] By the time the Crou had a crop of sugarcane ready for harvest, a sugar mill at Fort St.-Napoléon was already built (although some say the rum distillery was completed first). The new Compagnie de Commerce Africain gained sugar, rum, palm oil and of course peppers. (Coffee and rubber would not come until much later.) The Crou gained, among other things, French weapons with which to continue to defend themselves against would-be slavers. By the time Dupleix had sorted out British relations with the Ashanti, France had a strong position at Cape Mesurado guarded loyally by Crou soldiers.

Mena et al., A History of West Africa​

[1] IOTL Liberia.
[2] The Kru.
[3] The location of Monrovia IOTL.

 

[SenatorChickpea]

As always, it's good to see this push along.

 

[Stolengood]

...holy shit, this is BRILLIANT.

Why in god's name don't you write THIS for NaNoWriMo? It's so deserving.

 

[Lycaon pictus]

...holy shit, this is BRILLIANT.

Why in god's name don't you write THIS for NaNoWriMo? It's so deserving.

Thank you. Trouble with writing a TL for NaNoWriMo is you've got to do all the necessary research at the same time as you're churning out 1000+ words a day.

Next update, we go back to London.

 

[Lycaon pictus]

April 16, 1823
London
This, Robert Peel thought to himself for the ten thousandth time as he sat at his desk, is no way to enforce the law. He could have spent his whole working day reading the daily reports from Lord Sidmouth’s old network of informants, and still fallen behind. And of course he had no way of knowing who was lying, who was telling the truth, and who in that second group was telling him something important.

Which was why he tended to skim over such reports unless he spotted a name that he recognized as a troublemaker — such as, for instance, Henry Brougham. According to the report he was reading now, at the last meeting of the Royal Society Brougham had met and had a long conversation with a Bonapartist radical and religious freethinker named Charles Babbage.

Nothing illegal there, and nothing very surprising. So what had they talked about? Oddly enough, they had discussed… engineering. This Babbage had apparently conceived of a machine of great complexity that could somehow (precisely how was a mystery to both Peel and his source) manufacture mathematical tables with greater accuracy than the human mind was capable of. He was seeking funding from the British government to construct this machine.

The conversation seemed to have been highly technical, revolving around ways to perform mathematical operations and whether brass gears could be machined with sufficient precision. Having caught perhaps two words in three with his eavesdropping, and having understood less than one word in four of what he heard, Peel’s source was suspicious that what he had heard was in fact an elaborate code for some sort of Bonapartist plot. He was even more suspicious because Brougham had suggested that if Babbage could not obtain funds from any other source, the French Regency Council might be interested.

It seemed to Peel that the simplest explanation for all this was that things were exactly as they seemed. Babbage wanted to build a machine — to “calculate by steam” as he put it — and Brougham, who Peel knew was a scientist before he was a politician, was interested. Still, this was Henry Brougham they were talking about… No. No. That way lies madness — literally, as poor Lord Castlereagh showed. Better to risk being deceived than go down that road. Brougham is not a devil. He cannot possibly spend every waking moment thinking of ways to bring about our ruin. And if this Babbage were such a dangerous man, he should have come to our attention before this.

Anyway, it’s not as if they were Papists.




Merry Christmas, everyone. Next update — “¡España pide ayuda, y Nueva España responderá!”