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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 27
Chapter Title: The Godfather of Conservatism
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The process of putting Wellesley forward as the candidate for South Hampshire went as smoothly as expected.
"He's just starting his military career, and he's already leaving to enter politics? Isn't that too rushed?"
"From what I hear, he originally wanted to advance further in the military, but with our party struggling lately, he decided to run in a difficult constituency to lend a hand."
"Really? I didn't know that. He seems to be a more decent fellow than I thought."
"In any case, besides Fleming, there were no other candidates for South Hampshire, so it's not a bad thing for our party. It's about time we shed our old image for a younger one, anyway."
Recently, the public perception of the Tory Party in Britain could be summed up in one phrase.
- Old, conservative codgers.
This was no one's fault but their own, a self-inflicted wound, and their popularity was at rock bottom.
It would be one thing if these codgers were competent, but they couldn't properly handle riots or alleviate the pressure from the Irish.
On top of that, they failed to listen to the demands of the middle class, making their lack of popularity hardly surprising.
There was only one thing the Tory Party was currently praised for doing exceptionally well.
Casting vetoes on reform bills that went against the interests of landowners and the nobility.
Once framed as such an old and stale party, escaping that image would be difficult for at least the next few years.
In such a situation, the emergence of young politicians like Wellesley was certainly a positive sign.
And it wasn't just Wellesley; there was also his fellow alumnus, Gladstone.
The party's senior members believed that if they played their cards right, they could shed the Tory Party's antiquated image.
The party leadership, including men like Robert Peel and the Duke of Wellington, were desperate not to let this opportune moment slip through their fingers.
Yes. Frankly, if they couldn't even create this much momentum, they might as well quietly retire from politics and live out their days as old men in the background.
No matter how hard they tried, this wouldn't be enough to turn the election around, but if they could secure even one more seat, that was something.
And I, too, intended to ride this wave to get one more person into Parliament, so I could only hope this phenomenon of young politicians gaining attention would be highlighted as much as possible.
"James, did you find the person I asked for?"
"Yes. He's a candidate running for election and an author who has written a few popular books, so it wasn't difficult."
"That's a relief. I was worried it might take a while."
"But why did you choose such a person? I did some research, and while he seems capable, he doesn't appear to be an extraordinary talent. I will admit, his nerve for jumping into politics as an independent is commendable. Surely, Young Master, you don't believe he will win this election?"
Of course not. He'll never win.
After all, if my memory of history served me correctly, the man I'd had James investigate was fated to lose elections for some time.
He hadn't graduated from a prestigious university favored by the British, nor had he attended one of the top public schools like Eton, Harrow, or Winchester.
He even carried the minor penalty of being of Jewish descent, an identity whose image in British society was still not entirely favorable.
By all accounts, he was a man who did not fit in with the mainstream of British society, and indeed, he was destined to taste defeat in election after election.
His path was the complete opposite of his rival, Gladstone, who was elected on his first try and made a brilliant political debut.
Nevertheless, even after losing six times, the man did not stop. He kept charging forward until he finally entered Parliament as a member of the Conservative Party.
And in the future, he would grow into a titan of the Conservative Party, forging a lifelong rivalry with Gladstone, who would become the leader of the Liberal Party.
The man I had James investigate was none other than Benjamin Disraeli.
I had assumed that since he became the leader of the Conservative Party, he must have run as a Conservative from the beginning, but it turns out he started as an independent.
Did he seriously think he could win?
He couldn't be much older than Charles or Gladstone. What an incredibly audacious man.
"I told you I wanted to see him in person, right? What did he say?"
"He said he could make time. He's been struggling without a proper sponsor, so for him, this must feel like finding an oasis in the desert."
"So he was in a more complete mess than I thought."
I knew his foundation would be weak since he always lost elections, but I hadn't realized it was this hopeless.
Could he have really thought that having a few hit novels would be enough to win an election?
Perhaps the young Disraeli was a man brimming with unfounded confidence.
Everyone has a bit of that in their youth, but I had imagined the leader of the Conservative Party to be a rather solemn figure. This was a bit of a surprise.
Then again, I'm not a history major, so for all I know, he might have always been known for his dashing personality.
He was a clear contrast to the just and serious Gladstone; putting them side by side would likely create an interesting picture.
"Schedule a meeting as soon as possible. I want to see him for myself and have a talk."
"Will you be meeting him in person, Young Master?"
"He is someone I intend to make a good political partner in the future. I plan to build a good friendly relationship starting now."
I was going to send Charles Wellesley to Parliament, but strictly speaking, he was my equal.
If I coaxed him well, I could get him to move as I wished, but he was a collaborator who required a bit more careful handling.
Therefore, I needed to find someone who would be more compliant with my will, yet possessed abilities on par with Gladstone.
In that respect, Disraeli was the best possible card, better than anyone else.
Judging by his future accomplishments, his potential was already proven, yet he lacked a firm political or economic background at present.
If I invested well in him now, he would become a golden goose that would yield dozens of times the return in the future.
I arranged to meet Disraeli face-to-face as soon as possible to discuss sponsorship.
* * *
They say a person's path is a reflection of the life they've lived.
Looking at their records, it isn't difficult to deduce what kind of person they are.
And Disraeli was just as I had imagined—lively and full of wit.
"Greetings! I am Benjamin Disraeli!"
A man aspiring to be a politician, coming to meet a potential sponsor dressed in a flamboyant, shimmering lime-green suit.
That alone made it clear that he was a man whose mentality far transcended that of an ordinary person.
"I am Killian Gore, heir to Earl Arthur Gore of Aaron. I apologize for asking you to come all this way when you must be busy."
"It's quite alright. This is my first time seeing the area around Eton College myself."
Removing a strikingly fashionable fedora, he took the coffee cup James handed him and sat down gracefully before me.
"But as you said, I'm not exactly a man of leisure. If you don't mind, could we get straight to the point?"
"Of course. You need to get back to your campaign preparations. By the way, have you thought about how you will conduct your campaign?"
"Well… I suppose I'll give some speeches to the citizens and put up posters with my aspirations here and there."
"And you have no intention of adopting the methods used by other candidates? This may sound unpleasant, but I don't think you have much of a chance with that approach."
High Wycombe, the constituency where Disraeli was running, was by no means an easy one.
Moreover, as an independent, Disraeli couldn't receive any help from a party, meaning he had to run the entire election on his own strength and organization.
This meant that both his speeches and the distribution of his printed materials would be significantly less effective than his opponents'.
Disraeli surely knew this, but it was a problem beyond his individual capacity to solve. He could only offer a troubled smile, unable to propose any other solution.
"For now, my judgment is that I must focus on building my reputation. Fortunately, I'm not a complete unknown, so if I play my cards right, an opening might appear."
"But you, Mr. Disraeli, must know better than anyone that won't happen. That method is no different from repeatedly throwing an egg against a rock. As James told you, I called you here because I wish to offer you my sponsorship. Please give me your honest analysis and judgment. That's the only way I can sponsor you with confidence, wouldn't you agree?"
"Before that, I'd like to ask something as well. What is it about me that makes you want to sponsor me? Are you perhaps an ardent reader of my books?"
"Something like that. I am someone who has great expectations for you, Mr. Disraeli."
"I've done some research myself, and I found that Earl Aaron is a member of the Tory Party. Are you perhaps trying to recruit me into the Tory Party?"
After we scheduled the meeting, I did some digging and found that the current Disraeli was not only an independent but also advocated for rather radical progressive ideas.
His current actions were so far removed from his historical path of becoming the leader of the Conservative Party that it was hard to believe.
"Do you perhaps find the ideology of the Tory Party disagreeable?"
"Not necessarily. I don't deny the ideology itself, of upholding tradition and social order. However, I find their rigid stance to be a bit stifling."
"Then this should be simple. In fact, we aim for a more flexible system that allows for better airflow while upholding the fundamental ideology of the Tory Party. There are a few other young candidates who share our vision."
"That sounds plausible, but you seem too young, Young Master Killian. I heard you're a new student at Eton, which would make you twelve this year, would it not? I don't believe you can be directly involved in party affairs."
Disraeli was about sixteen years my senior, meaning I hadn't even lived half his age yet.
It was only natural that my talk of the Tory Party and our ideology would fall on deaf ears.
In fact, if not for my title as the heir to an earldom, he certainly wouldn't have bothered coming to see me in the first place.
"Allow me to correct one thing. I am not trying to recruit you on behalf of the Tory Party, Mr. Disraeli. I, Killian Gore, as an individual, wish to sponsor you."
"...Pardon?"
"You don't need to run as a Tory in this election either. In fact, if you win as an independent, your value will be rated much higher when you eventually join the party."
Disraeli's hand, holding his coffee cup, froze in mid-air.
"So you're saying… the House of Gore wishes to sponsor me?"
"No. I've already told you. I, Killian Gore, as an individual, wish to invest in you, Mr. Disraeli."
"I don't quite understand. Once you become the Earl, Young Master Killian, it will be the House of Gore sponsoring me, will it not? No, before that, anything you do without the Earl's consent would have no effect…"
A hint of annoyance crept into his eyes as the thought occurred to him that this might all be a child's prank.
This election already seemed hopeless, and he still had to campaign. How infuriating it would be to realize he had made a pointless trip.
In times like these, the easiest way is to just show them the proof and give them confidence.
"To put it bluntly, getting one person like you elected, Mr. Disraeli, does not require my father's permission. James, show him."
"Yes, sir."
Disraeli's eyes widened as he saw the account balance, which contained the income from the casino that had been cruising along smoothly since its successful launch.
Even after pouring more than half the money into Chicago, the remaining balance was still over 100,000 pounds.
The income from the casino, which had grown several times in scale, amounted to tens of thousands of pounds annually.
In other words, from the casino alone, the money I was earning was already on par with that of a major British aristocrat.
Considering the 150,000 pounds taken from Turner and the assets growing in Chicago, I wondered if there was any 12-year-old boy in Britain, aside from royalty, who had more money than me.
"Th-this, how many zeros… Ten thousand, no, over one hundred thousand pounds?"
"This is purely my personal money, completely unrelated to the House of Gore. Is this enough to make your trip here feel worthwhile?"
"S-so… wait. Let me just gather my thoughts. Hmmm…"
The amount of money candidates spent to get elected at the time was known to be between a few hundred to, at most, a thousand pounds.
No matter how weak Disraeli's base was, if he poured in more than twice the money his competitors were spending, it would be harder to lose the election than to win.
In this era, one of the surest ways to win an election was to simply overwhelm the opposition with money.
And a politician with a weak foundation could never ignore the words of the person who had become their biggest source of funds early on.
I very slowly pushed a promissory note for 2,000 pounds, redeemable immediately, toward Disraeli and opened my mouth.
"I will spare no expense in supporting your entry into the House of Commons, Mr. Disraeli. So, why don't we become comrades and reform the stifling politics of Britain together? Others with their eyes shut might not see it, but I have no doubt that you, Mr. Disraeli, will become a great politician who will share our vision."
"I don't believe I've done anything to merit such high praise…"
"...There's a saying that a book is a mirror of the soul. Reading your books, one can indirectly feel your thoughts and the way you perceive the world. And I was convinced that a person like you could surely become a giant in British politics in the future."
My years of experience from my past life hadn't gone to waste. Disraeli's expression brightened noticeably at the impromptu flood of compliments.
He had jumped into politics with youthful audacity but had failed to secure a proper sponsor and was facing a situation where defeat in the election was all but certain. How could he not have been anxious?
He must have worried about what would happen if this repeated next year, and the year after.
Then, to meet a sponsor who recognized his future potential after reading his books, in which he likely took a quiet pride—it would be strange if he didn't smile.
"Thank you for thinking so highly of me. In that case… could we discuss the details of the sponsorship?"
"Of course. Since this might be a long conversation, shall we enjoy a meal together as we talk?"
"A fine idea. I was just starting to feel hungry. Hahaha!"
Now completely free from the fear of defeat, Disraeli laughed heartily once more.
I, too, offered him a faint smile.
With this, I had successfully secured another reliable ally, besides Charles Wellesley, who would act on my behalf in Parliament.
And a highly promising talent with more potential than anyone else.
In truth, the person who wanted to laugh out loud the most right now wasn't Disraeli, but me.