## Chapter 147: Wellington’s Strategic Retreat
**10 Downing Street, Westminster, London, the Prime Minister’s Residence**
The Duke of Wellington leaned back in his deep red velvet armchair, a French gazette in his left hand and a sealed letter from Paris, delivered by Rothschild’s postal service, gripped tightly in his right.
He finished reading both documents and couldn’t help but rub his temples. He then turned to Sir Robert Peel, seated across from him, and said, “Well, it seems Louis-Philippe is sticking to his story, claiming the French government had nothing to do with the kidnapping in Paris, eh?”
Sir Robert Peel smiled and shook his head. “Your Grace, you can’t say that. Louis-Philippe might deny it publicly, but hasn’t he privately apologized in his letter to you?”
The Duke of Wellington impatiently folded the two documents and tucked them into his coat pocket. “What good is a private apology? He’s shamelessly trying to make us bear the brunt of the public backlash. I understand his position. He’s just ascended the throne of France. If he caves in to Great Britain so soon after his coronation, he might as well kiss his kingship goodbye.”
Seeing the Duke’s growing frustration, Sir Robert Peel’s eyes lit up. He leaned forward and offered a solution. “But… if Louis-Philippe wants to gain an advantage in this matter, then the uprising in Brussels last month, which led to Belgium’s near de facto independence…”
The Duke of Wellington understood what Sir Robert Peel meant.
After the Napoleonic Wars, Britain had proposed a merger of Holland and Belgium at the Congress of Vienna in 1815 to create a strong buffer state in northern France and maintain a continental balance of power.
However, despite being nominally part of the same country, Belgium and Holland differed greatly in terms of culture, religion, and economic structure.
For example, Holland was primarily Protestant, while Belgium was Catholic. The Dutch spoke Flemish, while Belgians spoke a mix of Flemish and French.
But that wasn’t the most pressing issue. The most significant difference was that the Dutch, nicknamed “Sea Carts,” relied heavily on commerce and fishing, while Belgium had a strong industrial and agricultural base.
Therefore, the Dutch, who had made their fortune through trade, naturally favored a free trade policy with low tariffs. This, however, came at the expense of Belgium’s industrial and agricultural interests, exposing them to a flood of cheap foreign goods. This, of course, contradicted their desire for trade protection.
King William I of Holland also harbored suspicions towards the newly incorporated Belgians. To ensure the Dutch maintained their dominant position within the kingdom, he implemented discriminatory policies against the Belgian region.
For instance, government job examinations were only open to Flemish speakers, government positions and military leadership were reserved for the Dutch, Belgian newspapers were subject to censorship, and the Belgians had to share the debt incurred by Holland during the Napoleonic Wars.
The Belgians had endured this for over a decade, harboring resentment towards Dutch rule. The July Revolution in France served as a catalyst, igniting the independence aspirations of every Belgian.
Soon after the July Revolution erupted, the Belgians launched an uprising in Brussels. To showcase his image as a champion of popular revolution, King Louis-Philippe of France immediately extended his support to Belgium.
However, for Britain, witnessing an independent Belgium leaning towards France was absolutely unacceptable. But persuading Belgium and Holland to peacefully reconcile seemed unrealistic. As a result, the cabinet had been debating whether to send troops to intervene in the Belgian War of Independence.
Admittedly, King Louis-Philippe couldn’t afford to bow to Britain at this juncture. But to save face, he had to offer something tangible in exchange. For instance, he could promise Britain that he would cease further involvement in the Belgian issue.
The Duke of Wellington nodded slightly, biting his quill pen. “From a pragmatic perspective, this is indeed a very lucrative deal. If it were before the passage of the Catholic Emancipation Act, I wouldn’t have hesitated for a second to accept Louis-Philippe’s proposition. But now…”
The Duke of Wellington shook his head with a wry smile. “We might need a pointless matter of face more than he does. That’s why I said I hate party politics. I know this will likely upset people, but I have to say, factionalism greatly undermines national interests. I saved the nation from civil war, yet they treat me like a criminal.
I wonder who it was that prevented Napoleon from invading Britain. If I had known they would be so ungrateful, I should have died at Waterloo. Then, they would all be Catholics and speak French.
Alas, Robert, I see this stalemate is unsustainable. Huskisson is dead, and the alliance with the Whigs’ moderates isn’t working. Parliament reconvenes in two weeks. The Whigs will surely seize this opportunity to move a vote of no confidence against the cabinet.
From a military standpoint, if you know a battle is lost, it’s better to strike first and take responsibility. That way, you can maintain unity within the party and among voters, ensuring the Tories don’t lose too many seats in the next election.”
Sir Robert Peel was stunned at first, then his face filled with shock. “Your Grace, what are you saying? You are the leader. The cabinet and the backbenchers will stand by you!”
The Duke of Wellington raised his goblet, gazing at the swirling sherry within. “There’s no need, Robert. His Majesty appointed me to form the cabinet to stabilize the chaotic state of affairs and resolve the Ottoman and Greek issues.
But from a personal perspective, I lack the gift of oratory and dislike being in the public eye. No one loathes this job more than I do, and no one is as clueless about party affairs as I am.
I am a man of honor, a soldier who stands tall. I’m not a player in the game of intrigue and prefer honesty. But that approach clearly doesn’t work in the current situation.
I remain opposed to parliamentary reform. I won’t change my stance for the sake of clinging to these positions. I firmly believe that so-called reform is nothing more than a revolution conducted through legal processes.
They want to spark a grand revolution in Britain. I won’t allow it. But if I refuse to budge, it might become more than just a revolution. They might even create a Robespierre. If that happens, no one benefits.
So, following the principles of battlefield command, in a disadvantageous situation, you must consolidate your forces, retreat to a defensive position, and await the opportune moment to strike back. The Whigs love this high ground, so I’ll cede it to them.
I never thought I’d lose not to Napoleon, but to the daggers of my own people.”
At this point, the Duke of Wellington’s voice faltered. He fixed his sharp, hawk-like eyes on Sir Robert Peel and said, “Robert, from now on, party affairs are yours to handle.”
Sir Robert Peel felt a mix of emotions. His mouth hung open, unable to speak.
After a long silence, Sir Robert Peel sighed. “I understand. So you plan to…”
The Duke of Wellington raised his hand slightly. “You don’t need to worry about what happens next. I’ll unleash all the pent-up anger I’ve been suppressing for years on them when Parliament reconvenes. All the public pressure against the Tories will shift to me after the session. After that, you and the remaining Tories can breathe a sigh of relief.”
The Duke of Wellington stood up and tugged at his collar. “I want them to understand that not everyone cares about those political gains. Do they really think I’m oblivious to their motives? They propose reform, so the newly enfranchised voters will cast their ballots for them. What do they think British politics and national affairs are? Childish, Naive!”
As he finished speaking, the door to the office creaked open a crack. The Duke of Wellington’s private secretary stood outside, leaning slightly forward.
“Your Grace, someone is requesting an audience.”
The Duke of Wellington raised his goblet and downed the sherry in one gulp. He joked, “Oh, a familiar scene. Waterloo, all those years ago, another moment of crisis. Could it be my old friend, Marshal Blücher, finally remembering me? Thank God. But he better not. He’s been dead for over a decade, and I’m not ready to revisit our past relationship in the grave just yet.”
The private secretary smiled. “It’s not Marshal Blücher, but Sir Robert Peel’s subordinate, the new Commissioner of Scotland Yard, Arthur Hastings.”
“Oh,” the Duke of Wellington paused for a moment, then turned to Peel. “Robert, it seems this is for you. I apologize for dragging you here and disrupting the Home Office’s operations. I hope nothing major has happened.
I admire that capable young man, but every time he shows up, it’s not good news. Thankfully, he always manages to handle it well, turning things around.”
Sir Robert Peel quickly rose. “Tell Arthur I’ll be right down.”
“No, no, no.” The private secretary waved his hands, clutching his documents. “Commissioner Hastings specifically requested to see Your Grace. Seems there’s a major incident in Hyde Park.”
“For me? Hyde Park?” The Duke of Wellington furrowed his white eyebrows. “Is someone inciting the mob to smash my windows again?”
**(End of Chapter)**