You know I find it amusing that so many Americans ITTL deride Louisiana as a "snuff box sized republic" when it seems to be a bit bigger than Maryland, Delaware, and New Jersey combined. So not really that 'small' by the reckoning of American politics it seems to me.

Corrected and updated the North America map to 1839. I have a link to the full quality image if anyone wants it.

Cool map, it always helps the experience to have visuals. Thank you.

This new map has me wondering the Russian and Danish holdings in NA have had any significant butterflies.

Will Louisiana be having a baby boom after the war?

(And with that, we're at 2000 posts.)

Congratulations! Keeping this TL up for so long and keeping it a quality story makes it a highlight of not just this site but the AH community in my opinion.
 
I dug up the text of the Quebec Act of 1774... it said the northern border of the Province of Quebec was

Which is the Hudson Bay drainage basin. So at least notionally, all the British possessions south of the HBC land were part of Canada.
View attachment 810801

Too bad Canada is French/English, not French/Chinese. Hubei would be the easy and obvious name choice.

湖北 = Lake(s) North

The author's quite right; Western languages are distinctly lacking for lake based names that feel right.
 
Auspicium Melioris Ævi (2)
I really wanted to write at least one scene set in Carême's, so now I have. It's a bit long.

Although Queen Charlotte is the sovereign most often associated with the Order of St. Michael and St. George, she did not found the Order herself. The story of the Order begins in the Malta campaign of the Second Thirty Years’ War. The Royal Navy successfully cut off the French garrison from resupply, and the garrison was gradually compelled to surrender by the British and Maltese. Under the Treaty of Amiens, Britain was to evacuate the island—however, in 1802 representatives of the Maltese people declared George III to be their king and that Malta was self-governing, but under British protection. In 1813, Malta became a Crown colony under Sir Thomas Maitland, who distinguished himself by his decisive and capable quarantine measures in the face of an outbreak of plague.

The Ionian Islands, a former Venetian colony, had already been through a number of changes in leadership and allegiance when the British arrived in 1810, conquering the islands over the course of several years. In 1815, the British declared that what had been the Septinsular Republic was now the United States of the Ionian Islands, and granted them a constitution in 1817. Maitland was also named the first Lord High Commissioner of the Ionian Islands. He had a palace built by the sea in Corfu City on the island of Corfu, where the Senate would also meet.

Desiring to further reconcile the people of Malta and the Ionians to British rule, Prince George took the further step of founding a new knightly order. This order, like Maitland’s palace, was named the Most Distinguished Order of St. Michael and St. George. The letters patent that created the Order were co-signed by Henry Bathurst, Secretary of State for War and the Colonies. The motto of the new order was auspicium melioris ævi—“token of a better age.” The Order was founded in 1818, placing it in precedence below the Most Noble Order of the Garter, the Most Ancient and Most Noble Order of the Thistle, the Most Illustrious Order of St. Patrick, the Most Honourable Order of the Bath, and the Most Exalted Order of the Star of India, but above the Orders of Martial Service amd Public Service, the Order of Merit, and the Most Devoted Order of the Celestial Fire.

The sovereign of the Order, as of all British orders, was of course the British monarch. Sir Thomas Maitland, already Knight Grand Cross of the Order of the Bath and Knight Grand Cross of the Royal Guelphic Order, became the first Grand Master of this new Order. The Gazette contains no record of the first appointments—the Order was not, at this point, expected to be of great significance outside the Mediterranean, let alone in the larger Empire—but records show that among the first Knights Grand Cross were British naval Commanders-in-Chief of the Mediterranean, presidents and senators of the Ionian government, and officials of the Maltese government.

Sir Thomas died in 1824.[1] Major General Frederick Adam, a hero of Nancy[2], took his place as Lord High Commissioner of the Ionian Islands, and as Grand Master of the Order.[3] The latter position he held until his death in 1853.

These are the bald facts of history, and they are borne out in the Order’s iconography. In addition to the images of St. Michael trampling on the Devil and St. George slaying the dragon, the badge of the Order is a Maltese Asterisk with seven arms, representing Malta and the seven Ionian Islands. The collar worn by Knights and Dames Grand Cross features winged lions—symbols of Venice, which once ruled the Ionians—holding a Bible and seven arrows.

Yet it is still common to think of Queen Charlotte as the founder of the Order, and for much the same reason some old children’s textbooks describe Christopher Columbus as the discoverer of America, ignoring those who came before. As sovereign of the Order, she not only changed it radically and permanently, but also brought it to the attention of the British public.

She did not do this immediately upon her accession to the throne. She waited until 1838, the twentieth anniversary of the Order’s founding. Her first change was to double the number of Knights Grand Cross from 15 to 30, increase the number of Knights Commander from 20 to 50, and increase the number of Companions from 25 to 100.[4] Next, she expanded the scope of eligibility for knighthood from Malta and the Ionian Islands to every part of the overseas British Empire. Finally, she ordered that all such knighthoods be gazetted, bringing them into the limelight of London society.

Indeed, although the Order was intended for those who lived and served overseas, the first new knights were brought to Buckingham Palace for formal investiture…

Edward D. Heath, “Towards the Reclamation of the History of Knightly Orders in These Isles,” Birmingham Historical Quarterly, Spring 1977


May 24, 1839
11:45 a.m.
Ballroom, Buckingham Palace

The sword was an infantry officer’s sword[5], finely crafted, blued, and gilt. It had once belonged to Sir Thomas Maitland, who had worn it during his time with the 62nd Foot. But he died without issue, his estate gifted it to the Crown, and here it was in the hands of the Queen.

Adam Thom had bought a sword like that—without the bluing and gilding, obviously—when he was raising the Doric Phalanx, and he was wearing it now along with his dress uniform. It was the one expense he actually regretted. During the whole long Battle of Lake Saint-Louis, he’d never had occasion to draw it even to point dramatically at the enemy. The damned thing had just hung there banging against his leg while he ran and getting in the way when he knelt to make a shot. Even now its tip was brushing the floor as he knelt on the knighting stool, his gaze aimed at the floor an inch in front of the rim of the Queen’s pleated dress.

The sword rested on his right shoulder. Then on his left.

He stood. She placed the badge on the sash of his uniform.

He was now Sir Adam Thom, and this was the greatest honor of his life… possibly. He was now a Knight of St. Michael and St. George… along with several men who were black, native, or some combination thereof. Worse, one of them—that he knew about—was French. Sir Louis-Joseph Papineau. Are you mad, Your Majesty? Can Frenchman love England, as men of British blood, however far removed by space or time, love her?[6]

Up until today, Thom hadn’t been able to decide if these new knighthoods were the Queen’s way of metaphorically spitting on her father’s grave, or if she genuinely meant it. As soon as he’d seen her turn someone named John Horse into Sir John Horse, Thom knew she meant it. There was a fragility to this ceremony, after all. A royal accolade was such a solemn, dignified, and frankly atavistic event that the whole thing was in danger of turning into a farce at any moment, even when the recipient wasn’t a swarthy colonial named “John Horse.” A sharp breath, a twitch at the corner of her mouth, a twinkle in her eye, and everything would have been spoiled. But there was none of that. She might have been Elizabeth knighting Francis Drake[7]. Even her hair fit the image.[8] And the same when she had bestowed honors on George Miconaba and William Osceola.

And looking at her now, it really was the same. This was the message, then—whoever you are, wherever you come from, fight for the Crown, and you will be honoured by the Crown.

And now Sir Frederick Adam was announcing the name of the next man to be honoured, which happened to be “Thlocklo Tustenuggee.” Thom didn’t have the slightest idea if he’d pronounced that right, but judging by the slowness and care with which he’d spoken, he’d certainly tried to.

***​

3:45 p.m.
Carême’s[9], London

“Sir Adam Thom… CMG.” Thom showed the doorman his invitation. “I have an invitation from the Marquess of Londonderry to dine here at four.”

“So you do,” said the doorman. “You’re early.”

“Better early than later, surely?”

“Indeed.” The doorman showed him in.

“His Lordship is not here,” said a servant, who had either been waiting there for him or had only just happened by. “Let me take your hat, and follow me to his table.”

The interior was very much like some of the rooms in Buckingham Palace. Whoever designed this place had learned a thing or three from old George IV, who—whatever his faults—had exquisite taste in such matters. Speaking of exquisite taste, the look of the rooms was being completely overshadowed by the smell of the food.

Thom wasn’t a stranger to private clubs. He was secretary of the Beefsteak Club in Montreal. But this was Carême’s. If you ate here, you ate in the knowledge that no one on Earth was enjoying a better meal at that moment. Not the emperor and his regents in Vienna, not the king of Italy who was eating Heaven only knew what, not the king of Spain and his little cuckoo-chick[10], not Old Boney’s brat (well, of course not, he was on campaign right now) and not even Her Majesty herself.

The man just now seating himself at the corner table appeared to be about fifty—somewhat younger than Thom had thought Lord Londonderry was. “Robert Jocelyn, Earl of Roden,” he said, rising to shake Thom’s hand. “Do sit down. The rest will be coming shortly.”

“The rest?”

“Lord Londonderry, of course. Young Lord Kenyon, and our friend Col. Fairman. Lord Wynford is too ill to come.”

“I shall be pleased to meet them.” Thom was the son of a merchant, and had been a Latin instructor before he moved to Canada. These were not the circles he was used to moving in. And he’d only expected to be meeting one man here tonight.

“I hope you have an appetite.”

“I had a scone for breakfast, nothing since.”

“Well, we have nine courses to get through tonight. But be sure to remember to savour the food.”

Thom decided that if for some reason all these people wanted to meet him, he should hold off talking about himself until everyone was here. So the conversation turned to Lord Roden’s holdings in little County Louth, which were apparently getting invaded by landless farmhands from the rest of Ireland looking for work.

In time the others arrived. Lord Kenyon was the only one at the table who was obviously younger than him. William B. Fairman seemed to be the oldest[11]. Thom wasn’t sure what Fairman had done to become a colonel, but he had the feeling it was something a little more impressive than going into debt to raise a regiment. But it was Charles Vane (né Stewart, somehow[12]), Lord Londonderry who seemed to be the leader of this little circle.

Londonderry was holding forth somewhat angrily on Brougham’s meddling in the coal industry and its need for boys small enough to fit in the tunnels[13] when the waiter brought the first bottle of wine and the first course. “1829 Chablis, gentlemen,” he said, “and the hors d’œuvre. Baked artichoke hearts with lyonnaise sauce.” Five little artichoke hearts, artfully carved, coated with bread and hard cheese crumbs, well sauced and so perfectly arranged on the plate that it seemed like an act of wanton destruction to stick his fork into one of them.

The wine was almost too dry, but went well with the buttery onion sauce. Thom could have eaten a whole meal of those artichoke hearts and been content. As it was, he felt hungrier after he’d finished them than before. He had to restrain himself from scraping up every last crumb and dollop of sauce. He wanted to make a good impression on these people.

The conversation turned to London gossip. The news had just gotten out that one of the Queen’s unmarried ladies-in-waiting was in a family way. Nobody seemed to know who the father was. Roden thought it was a male servant. Kenyon thought it was a visiting soldier. Col. Fairman suspected Henry Brougham, while Londonderry thought it was the Prince-Consort himself. “Poor fellow isn’t master in his own house. What do you expect him to do?” he said. You would know, Mr. Vane, thought Thom.

Just then the waiter brought the soup course. “Veal consommé with swede brunoise.” It was a medium-sized bowl of perfectly-chopped white cubes of vegetable floating in amber broth without a drop of fat on the surface. The flavor of the broth was so mild as to be hardly there at all, and no matter how good the chefs were here, they couldn’t make Swedish turnip taste like much. But the texture was so exquisitely rich that none of that mattered. The broth seemed to be kissing the whole surface of his tongue all at once. Thom ate it as slowly as he could until it started to get a little too cool, then polished it off.

After this, the conversation turned to whatever scandalous things might be happening in Buckingham Palace that no one knew about—but since no one knew about those things, it was perforce rather vague, and it made Thom distinctly uncomfortable to hear anything even being hinted about the Queen who had just knighted him this morning. Ought I not be defending her honour? He was very relieved when the waiter brought them the next course—a bottle of white wine and five fluffy, flaky little pastries, each a bit bigger than a muffin and shaped like a pot with a lid. “The appetizer today is a vol-au-vent, with an 1835 Chardonnay from Corton-Charlemagne.”

“Of course, the appetizer here is always a vol-au-vent,” said Londonderry as soon as the waiter was out of earshot. “The joy is finding out what’s inside.” What was inside was chicken in an herbed cream sauce, with crunchy rashers of bacon chopped into squares. Once again, Thom made an effort to slow down and enjoy each bite, but he finished it wanting another one—or maybe six or seven. There’s a reason these things are called appetizers. The idea is to give you just enough to let your stomach know good things are coming. And just enough to keep those two glasses of wine from going to your head. I hope.

Fairman started asked Thom about his background. This was the hard part. Thom had to admit that his family was a good deal less prestigious than any of theirs. Eventually the waiter brought the salad course—rocket[14] and whole basil leaves with Valencia orange slices and raisins, sprinkled with a vinaigrette. Simple, unpretentious, and tasty.

After salad, he told them about Canada, working with the late Sir Neil Campbell, and especially the problem of convincing the government to pay attention to the most loyal contingent of the population, not merely the most numerous. Everyone at the table nodded as if this were a familiar problem.

Kenyon spoke up. “You don’t worry about being surrounded by a French majority?”

“Less than you’d think,” said Thom. “Cressy. Poictiers. Agincourt. Minden. All places where the French were in the majority.”[15]

Suddenly, all four of them were saying “Hear, hear!” and trying to shake his hand at once. “Col. Thom—sorry, Sir Adam,” said Londonderry, “I feel sure we shall be friends.”

By the time the congratulations had died down, the fish course was here. “Lady Morgan English fish soup. I should tell you that some of the ingredients[16] are preserved.”

“Would this count as a fish course, or another soup course?”

“Yes, it would!” Kenyon laughed. The soup had the same exquisite texture as the consommé, with many kinds of seafood and the earthiness of mushrooms. Biting into a whiting quenelle, Thom thought so this is what it means to eat like a king.

After that, Thom found it easier to talk about the war itself—the winter of ’37-38, the Yankee advance to Lake Saint-Louis, the long, futile fight to drive them back. And of course the decision of the Government to take on the debts he’d incurred raising his regiment.

“Have you heard the latest on what Brougham is planning?” That was Fairman. “This democratical Minister and his Popish Cabinet[17]—having given away a large piece of English Upper Canada to the Americans, he’s sending Lord Durham to what’s left of Canada to… ‘listen to the people.’”

“Oh dear,” said Thom. “Which people?”

“If they listen to the people in Canada the way they did in Ireland, I’m afraid you’re in for dark times. Wellington… one must make allowances, I supposed. He had Papists in his army. He fought alongside them in Spain. But he did nothing for the Church of Ireland—less than nothing, really. Not as Prime Minister, not as Lord Lieutenant. And Parnell[18] has been worse, if anything.” The conversation then turned back to the woes of Protestants in Ireland until the main course arrived.

“Duck salmis in Armagnac sauce with mushrooms and mashed potatoes, with an 1818 Clos de Vougeot.” The sheer smell of the dish was enough to reawaken Thom’s appetite in full. “It’s only farmed duck. You should have come in game season. Then we might have had pheasant, grouse, quail… but this will be more than good enough, I promise you.”

More than good enough was an understatement. The duck had been roasted through to the bone before it was stewed, and combined the melting tenderness of a good stew with the rich browned taste of a roast.

The wine went perfectly with it. Roden elbowed Kenyon. “Lloyd here is partial to 1817, aren’t you?”

“A hard spring[19] makes for more complex flavours,” said Kenyon, “but it is an acquired taste, and not easy to pair with food.”

“Certainly not with good food.”

This time, Thom couldn’t stop himself from scraping the last drops of Armagnac sauce out of the dish. Everyone else was doing the same. This was a meal he was going to remember for the rest of his life.

“Col. Thom—Sir Adam—it is perhaps time for me to explain the reason why I extended this invitation to you,” said Londonderry. “Your service to the empire is very worthy of recognition, and Her Majesty is the fountain of honour wherever the Union Jack flies. But —I mean no insult to you when I say this—the Order you’ve been inducted into was founded to win the favour of Maltese and Greeks, and Her Majesty has chosen to expand it for reasons of her own. The reason we invited you is that we believe you are worthy to join a true knighthood. A Protestant knighthood.”

“The Orange Order,” said Fairman[20].

“We already have a presence in Canada,” said Kenyon, “not all of which was traded away at Windsor. But we do need your help.”

“I would have been more help when Sir Neil was alive. He listened to me. Whatever the new settlement is…”

“Whatever the new settlement is, the Protestant cause will need friends. More than ever, I suspect.”

Thom thought for a moment. The French in Canada, like the Irish, just seemed to breed so fast. And there was nothing in the liberal logic of men like Brougham to say they shouldn’t be rewarded for their greater numbers with greater voice. Her Majesty had knighted their leader right alongside him.

“You have a friend in me,” he said at last.

The waiter came by. “The palate cleanser. First-year Glenlivet, and tea with lemon.”

“But why,” said Thom, “would anyone want their palate cleansed of something like that?”

“To better appreciate the tarte Carêmaise[21], sir” said the waiter as he uncorked the bottle. “It’s a signature dessert. It’s coming soon.[22]”

The aroma of the whiskey was almost enough to cleanse the palate by itself. Londonderry raised his glass. “Only fifteen years old,” he said. “Almost seems a shame to drink it so soon. To the glorious, pious, and immortal memory…”


[1] This, so far, is all IOTL.
[2] He distinguished himself at Waterloo IOTL.
[3] IOTL, after Maitland, the position of Grand Master went to Prince Adolphus Duke of Cambridge. ITTL, of course, he died in ’17 at Middelbeers.
[4] This doesn’t mean she knighted this many people all at once, only that she expanded the number of positions open.
[5] The 1796 pattern. Perfect for ceremonial uses such as this.
[6] A direct quote from one of OTL Thom’s Anti-Gallic Letters.
[7] You know and I know that Elizabeth didn’t knight Drake personally, but Adam Thom doesn’t.
[8] Queen Charlotte is in her forties now, and 40 won’t be the new 30 for well over a hundred years. This is the year the gray in her hair got visible enough that she decided to do something about it. At first, she wanted her hair dyed something as close to its natural color as possible, but that didn’t work. So she decided to bite the bullet and use plain old henna. And since this is the Queen we’re talking about, now every upper-class woman in London who doesn’t already love her own hair just as it is is getting a henna rinse. Since henna comes from India, at least they’re keeping the money in the empire instead of giving it to, say, the Stabler family.
[9] Marie-Antoine Carême himself died two years ago, but his kitchen helpers are keeping his club and recipes alive.
[10] Inside Spain, everybody still has to stick to the official line that Isabella Luísa’s good health is a blessing from God and has nothing to do with the fact that her totally premature birth was nine months to the day after the night Lord Byron ran off with her mother. People outside Spain are free to draw their own conclusions.
[11] Possibly. William Blennerhassett Fairman’s birthdate seems to be lost to history, but the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography says he “fl. 1798-1837” and he was a captain and “aid-de-camp [sic] and military secretary to the late governor and commander in chief of Curacao, and its dependencies” and propietor of something called “the Military Magazine” in 1813. He was a crony of Ernest Augustus Duke of Cumberland, so he might have been of similar age, which would put him in his sixties about now.
[12] This is the brother-in-law to the late Lord Castlereagh, and one of the people who was at the Congress of Vienna when everything fell apart. Since then, as IOTL, he’s married the 19-year-old heiress Frances Vane and changed his surname to hers because she was the one with all the money.
[13] Londonderry is one of the few aristocrats to actually be in business. Alas, it’s the coal business.
[14] Arugula
[15] Again, paraphrasing OTL’s Thom only slightly.
[16] If you want the recipe, it’s here, but you’ll have to get hold of the ingredients on your own.
[17] A slight paraphrase of OTL’s W.B. Fairman. For context, IOTL this guy tried to get his old buddy Ernest Augustus to become regent for Queen Victoria and effective king, but the Duke of Cumberland refused.
[18] Wellington’s replacement as Lord Lieutenant of Ireland is Sir Henry Parnell, not yet Baron Congleton.
[19] As the year right after the Year Without a Summer, 1817 had a rather cold spring.
[20] IOTL Fairman was deputy grand secretary of the Orange Order, of which Ernest Augustus was Grandmaster. Fairman’s shenanigans got the Order banned for nine years.
[21] What we would call a tarte tatin.
[22] If you’re wondering about the ninth course, it’s a mignardaise—basically the equivalent of an after-dinner mint. Something to fill up the corners, as a hobbit would say.
 
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Well done your majesty, trying to truly give the peoples of the Empire a stake in it by honoring their services. This fuels my hope that even if Britain goes Republican the royal family may pull a Brazil in the Western Hemisphere. Long live the Western Empire!

I don't know this Durham, but the Orange Order doesn't sem to like him; so that's somrething. Giessing e's the new Governor General? Still hoping the Prince of Wales et sent to Canada for some seasoning and to strengthen; a young man willing to go into battle should be put to better use than hanging around London waiting for his mother to die or retire.

Heh, the bit with the meal reminded me of the Redwall books. Good times, good times.
 
That is the only time in my life that a discussion of the sodding Orange order has left me hungry.

Great update.
Thanks! I was kind of worried the quality of the dinner company would detract from the experience.
Well done your majesty, trying to truly give the peoples of the Empire a stake in it by honoring their services. This fuels my hope that even if Britain goes Republican the royal family may pull a Brazil in the Western Hemisphere. Long live the Western Empire!

I don't know this Durham, but the Orange Order doesn't sem to like him; so that's somrething. Giessing e's the new Governor General? Still hoping the Prince of Wales et sent to Canada for some seasoning and to strengthen; a young man willing to go into battle should be put to better use than hanging around London waiting for his mother to die or retire.

Heh, the bit with the meal reminded me of the Redwall books. Good times, good times.
Lord Durham is Brougham's Lord Privy Seal. IOTL he was sent to Canada after the rebellions to find out what had gone wrong. ITTL he's on the same mission, but with a little more urgency.
And the Prince of Wales will be appearing in the next update.
 
I just want to say that I am loving the unique and beautiful world building you are doing for this TL. As far as unique and interesting world building goes, I believe that you have the most unique one when it comes to British Florida.

And I also really appreciate and enjoy that you have short stories telling the perspectives of people of various different ethnicities, places of birth and political leanings. And you are doing a fantastic job of creating actual Human characters on every side.

I am definitely looking forward to see how this TL keeps developing!
 
Ah wonderful! What mischief can the Orange Order achieve TTL I wonder? They still have one of their historic strongholds in Kingston, so it will be interesting to see how that city develops as what is effectively Canada's entrepot on the Great Lakes.
 
@Lycaon pictus wonderful timeline if I haven't posted ages ago... I'm a sucker for francophone Louisiana timelines, and I appreciate you look at the ugly side of every nation in this world while still showing many good and great figures in them trying to push them to better mores and morality alike. My general speculation is that Canada will become much more Francophone with so many Loyalists now within the USA's border and Quebeckers pushing westward into rump southern Ontario (where Kingston is) but even the rest of Upper Canada (north of but hugging the Great Lakes). Any remianing United Empire Loyalists in the rump Upper Canada may move east to the Maritimes for Anglophone living or simply be too spread out to resist potential Gallicization by French-speaking migrants. All the more so if they get even better concessions out of Durham than in reality.

A simple border question: would the USA not also ask for the original Louisiana Purchase border consisting of the Mississippi watershed and Rainy/Pigeon Rivers of OTL Minnesota's border? I can see it being an easy concession or way to claim a victory for both sides repectively, and I also am sure America by this point gets it isn't going to convince Britain to cede the Red River Valley per OTL 1818 Convention.
 
My general speculation is that Canada will become much more Francophone with so many Loyalists now within the USA's border and Quebeckers pushing westward into rump southern Ontario (where Kingston is) but even the rest of Upper Canada (north of but hugging the Great Lakes). Any remianing United Empire Loyalists in the rump Upper Canada may move east to the Maritimes for Anglophone living or simply be too spread out to resist potential Gallicization by French-speaking migrants. All the more so if they get even better concessions out of Durham than in reality.

I agree the Anglophones won't dominate as much but I don't think it will be quite as Francophone as you suggest. For one much like the Post ARW I expect the post war will see significant Loyalist emigration from the State that Hath No Name to Canada. Also the Compact were actively discouraging westward settlement to some degree, and Durham likely ends that so we likely see some Maritimers moving west as well.

So while Quebec stands to be the center of Canada for the foreseeable future I think we will still see growth in English speakers in the West alongside the Francophone area growing. Could make for an interesting mix with the Canadian west mixed/split between the two groups setting them further part from Quebec and the Maritimes.

Given the Empires recognition of the value of 'native allies' in Florida I am wondering if Canada's westward expansion will try to be more even handed with the locals? I admit I don't know much of anything about the First Nations there or Canada's actions vs America's OTL, but it seems like there could be room for divergence. At the very least it seems like the French speaking Metis peopel might get a better deal.

And while it may be a pipe dream I still sort of hope for support to resettle interested subjects of the empire from the Caribbean in Western Canada.

This more multilingual and multi-ethinc Canada may result in a WASP nationalist movement on the Pacific aligning with Austin's lot in Astoria to explain that one book and its odd terms.
 
Wonder if anyone will look at carrying numbers in the carribwan, look at the wide open space in Canada and put 2+2 together.
 
I just want to say that I am loving the unique and beautiful world building you are doing for this TL. As far as unique and interesting world building goes, I believe that you have the most unique one when it comes to British Florida.

And I also really appreciate and enjoy that you have short stories telling the perspectives of people of various different ethnicities, places of birth and political leanings. And you are doing a fantastic job of creating actual Human characters on every side.

I am definitely looking forward to see how this TL keeps developing!
Thank you!
@Lycaon pictus wonderful timeline if I haven't posted ages ago... I'm a sucker for francophone Louisiana timelines, and I appreciate you look at the ugly side of every nation in this world while still showing many good and great figures in them trying to push them to better mores and morality alike. My general speculation is that Canada will become much more Francophone with so many Loyalists now within the USA's border and Quebeckers pushing westward into rump southern Ontario (where Kingston is) but even the rest of Upper Canada (north of but hugging the Great Lakes). Any remianing United Empire Loyalists in the rump Upper Canada may move east to the Maritimes for Anglophone living or simply be too spread out to resist potential Gallicization by French-speaking migrants. All the more so if they get even better concessions out of Durham than in reality.

A simple border question: would the USA not also ask for the original Louisiana Purchase border consisting of the Mississippi watershed and Rainy/Pigeon Rivers of OTL Minnesota's border? I can see it being an easy concession or way to claim a victory for both sides repectively, and I also am sure America by this point gets it isn't going to convince Britain to cede the Red River Valley per OTL 1818 Convention.
Thanks! A DUP president like Webster might ask for the Red River area. Berrien wouldn't. He's still mad at Tyler for not thinking of a reason to give back that chunk of Upper Canada.
 
It happens.

I look forward to getting a better look at the crown prince.

How long until the next election in Louisiana? Will General Labatut be entering politics anytime soon or is he set on the Grand Army being the centerpiece of his career?
 
Given the Empires recognition of the value of 'native allies' in Florida I am wondering if Canada's westward expansion will try to be more even handed with the locals? I admit I don't know much of anything about the First Nations there or Canada's actions vs America's OTL, but it seems like there could be room for divergence. At the very least it seems like the French speaking Metis peopel might get a better deal.

The treatment of First Nations in the western provinces was bad. It achieved the remarkable feat of being a lot worse than in the US by some measures. The Indian schools, for example.

Go deeper north and even early this century killings were disturbingly routine.

This scenario feels like it makes "better" plausible, if not certain.
 
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