I am the Hidden Power Behind the British Empire Chapter 29 29: Political Upheaval

The Tories loudly proclaid day after day that they had discovered a new generation of young political talent. In truth, however, it was little more than wishful self-consolation.

Right after an election, it was easy enough to say things like we have glimpsed hope or we have seen the future. But as the opening of Parliant approached, the brutal reality of the numbers inevitably began to sink in.

The results of the 1832 general election, which would determine the governnt of 1833, were as follows:

Whigs — the governing party439 seats, an increase of 69 from their previous 370.

Tories — the opposition177 seats, a loss of 58 from their previous 235.

To make matters worse, a newly founded party led by the Irish politician Daniel O'Connell had secured 42 seats.

All forty-two of them ca from Ireland, but the figure was anything but trivial. Ireland was simply too large to be swallowed quietly by England, and the result signaled that its political weight was beginning to assert itself.

Yet even amid this looming crisis, Britain's conservatives were doing what they often did best—arguing among themselves.

"Seven years ago we held 428 seats. Three years ago it fell to 250. Now we're down to 177!" one mber shouted. "We've not only lost the majority—we've failed to secure even thirty percent of Parliant!"

"This is a crisis. A crisis for conservatism!"

"If that's the case, soone must take responsibility."

"Now hold on," another protested. "It isn't entirely His Grace's fault. The party line we pushed was overturned completely. That's what cost us."

The Duke of Wellington felt increasingly weary as he listened to the argunts.

Politics, he reflected, had an astonishing ability to exhaust the mind. Sotis he found himself thinking the battlefield had been easier.

Even during the war against Napoleon, the struggle had never produced this particular kind of irritation.

At first, when he beca leader of the Tories, he had harbored ambitions to leave his own mark on British politics. But that ambition had gradually faded.

Was it simply the result of age? Or was politics never truly suited to him in the first place?

If he were honest, the answer was probably both.

At least there was one consolation. Judging from the recent election, his second son appeared to possess talents very different from his own.

Perhaps not as a soldier—but certainly as a politician—he seed to operate on a higher level.

The seeds had already been planted to manage the rising Irish faction led by Daniel O'Connell. And according to the steady flow of information arriving through the Duke of Rutland's second son, the boy nad Killian Gore might prove a significant asset.

His academic results alone were exceptional among the new students, and the teachers spoke highly of him. He had already made the acquaintance of promising graduates like William Gladstone, and he had grown close to Wellington's own son, Charles.

If Charles can keep Killian properly guided and use him to restrain Irish dissatisfaction, Wellington mused, the boy could beco a formidable politician soday.

The present might look bleak, but the future did not seem entirely hopeless.

At last, Wellington raised his voice toward the still-arguing mbers.

"That will do. Whatever anyone says, defeat is defeat—and in war the defeated commander must accept responsibility. I shall step down as party leader. Instead, I will continue serving our cause from the House of Lords."

"Then the next leader will be…?"

"Yes," Wellington replied calmly. "We have Robert Peel, do we not? With him at the helm, I can step aside with peace of mind."

Peel was already regarded as the rising star of conservative politics. During his tenure as Ho Secretary, he had founded the tropolitan Police of London, reforming the city's entire policing system.

Within the Tory Party there was little disagreent: no one else stood as a plausible successor to Wellington.

"Whatever the Whigs may attempt in the Commons," Wellington continued, "the House of Lords remains firmly in our hands. Without our cooperation, they cannot accomplish anything. Do not lose your composure simply because the party is facing difficulty. Our priority now is to renew the party's image."

"Yes, sir!"

"Your Grace! Thank you for your service!"

Even those who had been whispering that Wellington should resign quickly fell silent and bowed their heads.

Politics, after all, had always been like this.

Wellington rose with a faint sigh.

For a mont he wondered whether his late rival had found politics easier.

Then again, considering that man's end on Saint Helena, it was hardly sothing to envy.

* * *

With the general election ending in a sweeping victory for the Whigs, and the ergence of a new force in the form of the Irish Party, the topic naturally dominated discussion at Eton.

Given that many of its students were destined to enter the highest ranks of society, it was hardly surprising.

"I'm telling you, the Tories are finished," one boy declared confidently. "This is the age of the Whigs. You should switch sides while you still can."

"Bullshit," another snapped. "You've won a few elections, that's all. The House of Lords is still overwhelmingly conservative. If they veto legislation, you'll accomplish nothing."

"Do you even understand politics? If the Lords keep vetoing everything, public opinion will turn against you. That's exactly why the conservatives are in this ss."

"Give it a few years," soone else said. "By the ti we graduate, the conservatives will be back on top. I'll bet one pound on it."

After classes, no matter where you went, the sa political argunts filled the air.

Even ordinary people beca heated when discussing politics. Here, where many of the boys would one day beco politicians themselves, the debates were even more intense.

Fists rarely flew, but raised voices and curses were common.

As for , though, it was all a distant matter.

Power always moved in cycles. Today might look like the age of the Whigs, but that would not last forever.

Otherwise Benjamin Disraeli, a conservative, would never have beco Pri Minister in the future I rembered.

Even before him, Robert Peel, Wellington's successor, would eventually reclaim the premiership.

If mory served, Peel was the man who repealed the infamous Corn Laws.

So there was no reason to beco emotionally invested in the current results.

For now, the best course was simply to sit quietly in the background and keep accumulating ammunition.

By the ti I ca of age and entered politics in earnest, the situation would be far closer to chaos.

And that was not an exaggeration.

If the 1830s could be described as turbulent, the 1840s would be nothing short of catastrophic.

War.Famine.Electoral upheaval.Labor movents.

Every imaginable crisis would erupt.

If I wanted to ride those waves instead of being swallowed by them, there was one requirent above all others:

Money.

No matter how much I accumulated, it would never be enough.

Fortunately, the constant upheaval of society also ant new opportunities appeared and vanished endlessly.

In a few years, an overinflated market would collapse—presenting the perfect chance to sweep up fortunes.

Until then, the goal was simple:

Grow the capital.Grow it again.And then grow it even more.

And to give that effort wings—

"Killian! Sothing big is about to happen."

"Well, of course sothing big is happening," I replied calmly. "His Grace just stepped down as party leader."

"No, no—that's not what I an. Sothing huge is about to explode in Parliant."

And this was precisely the advantage of having partners who rushed to bring the latest information.

Through Wellesley and Disraeli, I could hear developnts from multiple directions. If necessary, I could even consult Gladstone for another perspective.

The chance of making a serious miscalculation was minimal.

"What exactly is going to happen?" I asked. "Are the Whigs planning to declare they'll govern without the Tories now that they hold such a massive majority?"

"Well… if I exaggerate slightly, it's almost like that. The atmosphere is extrely tense right now."

"Seriously?"

The new Parliant had only just convened. Were they really moving that aggressively already?

Seeing my skeptical look, Wellesley thumped his chest in frustration.

"I'm telling you it's real! Do you know what the Whigs just announced? They're forming an investigative commission to improve working conditions in factories!"

"…Really? And what exactly do they plan to improve?"

"What else? They're trying to regulate working hours in factories. It's clearly an attack on our side."

Since I rely listened without much reaction, Jas spoke up beside .

"So the Tories will oppose it, and the Whigs will push it through regardless. Are you suggesting this amounts to legislative dictatorship?"

"Exactly. The party's in an uproar. The investigation is already approved, and once the commission starts its work, the report will obviously favor the Whigs."

"Will it apply to every industry?"

"No. For now it's limited to textiles. Naturally they won't target everyone at once. First children, then won, and finally adult n. Once the first step is taken, the rest will follow."

So that was it.

The mont had finally arrived for legislation restricting child labor hours.

The timing made sense. I had already discovered that Britain had almost no effective laws protecting workers' hours.

There were a few statutes, but without enforcent chanisms they were essentially aningless.

Miners and factory workers reportedly labored 80 to 90 hours per week.

Machines broke down if you ran them too long. Why would humans be any different?

Naturally resentnt would accumulate—and once it crossed a certain threshold, it would explode.

"Jas," I asked, "do you know how many hours children in textile factories usually work each week?"

"I'm not entirely sure," he replied. "But since children nowadays operate machines almost like adults… probably around eighty hours."

"Eighty…"

The romantic nineteenth century, indeed.

Dragging children into factories and making them work eighty hours a week—a textbook example of exploitation.

Seen from this angle, it was hardly surprising that revolutionary movents had erged across Europe.

Push people far enough, and eventually soone would start thinking about tearing everything down and redistributing it equally.

"But if that figure appears in the report," I said, "wouldn't public opinion demand regulation? Adults are one thing, but forcing children to work eighty hours a week seems excessive."

"Maybe," Wellesley replied. "But factory owners will oppose it fiercely."

"Is that the Tory Party's official stance?"

"Not exactly. So support the bill. But the majority will oppose it."

"Because the capitalists object?"

"Partly. But also because governnt intervention in the labor market could cause worse long-term consequences. If governnt interference throws factories into chaos, industrial developnt might suffer. Economic growth could slow. If left alone, the market will eventually reach its own optimal balance."

It was the perfect expression of nineteenth-century conservative logic.

If Adam Smith could see how the theory of the invisible hand was being used to justify argunts like this, he might well rise from his grave.

Still, they weren't evil—or even foolish.

The idea that overworking people to death would harm the economy was sothing that could only be demonstrated objectively in the modern era.

Productivity, healthcare costs, human capital, social stability—all those factors were intertwined in ways this age simply lacked the tools to analyze.

Expecting individual capitalists to consider the long-term consequences for the entire economy was unrealistic.

But from my perspective, knowing roughly how events would unfold, this situation was a golden opportunity.

I had been looking for a way to expand influence within the declining Tory Party—and appeal to the broader public.

And now the opportunity had delivered itself.

Not for .

For Wellesley and Benjamin.

"Charles," I said quietly, "you trust , don't you?"

"Of course I do. If soone asked to na the three people I trust most in this world, you'd certainly be one of them."

"Then trust again this ti."

"Oh? Sounds like you've already devised a plan. Now I'm curious."

Wellesley was clearly hoping for so clever sche to suppress the investigative commission entirely.

Instead, I pointed in the exact opposite direction.

"You should give a speech in Parliant arguing why the Factory Act must pass. I'll arrange the colleagues who will support you."

"Excellent! We'll show those Whig bast—"

He froze.

"…Wait. What did you say? A speech supporting it?"

You don't fight the tide.

You ride it.

Those who fail to understand that are always the first to fall.