The Qing Dynasty is about to end

Chapter 948 There are no eternal friends, no eternal enemies, only familiar situations.

The fog in London had never been so thick. The dark clouds of winter 1883, carrying the dampness of the Thames, hung heavily over Buckingham Palace. Just three days after Prince Albert's coffin was laid to rest, the telegram announcing the fall of Singapore shattered the last vestiges of the empire's dignity.

Outside 10 Downing Street, mud-splattered protest signs swayed in the cold wind—"Greston, get out of Downing Street!"

The roar pierced through the oak door and crashed into the wartime cabinet meeting room, making the already somber atmosphere even more oppressive, as if the once invincible British Empire had reached the brink of destruction.

Gladstone tapped his fingers lightly on the table, his gaze sweeping over each cabinet member present—the members of his wartime cabinet, reorganized to address domestic criticism of the disastrous defeat at Malacca—Chancellor of the Exchequer William Harcourt, Foreign Secretary Lord Granville, Commander-in-Chief Prince George, Duke of Cambridge, First Sea Lord Sir Aston Cooper Key, First Lord of the Admiralty Hugh Childs, and Secretary of State for India Randolph Churchill. Every face bore the marks of exhaustion and anxiety.

“Gentlemen,” Gladstone’s voice was low and hoarse, “the Empire is facing its most severe challenge since the Napoleonic Wars.”

He slowly unfolded a telegram, his fingertips trembling slightly on the paper: "According to the intelligence we have gathered from various sources, they will withdraw from the North Atlantic Treaty within three months and prepare for a full-scale war against Red France."

“And the Russian Empire—” he paused, his gaze sweeping over Count Granville, “their Foreign Minister Giles is in Istanbul, demanding that the Sultan open the Turkish Straits and allow the Black Sea Fleet access to the Mediterranean, claiming it is to ‘support our war in the Far East.’”

There was dead silence in the conference room.

Prince George scoffed, "Support? When did the Russians become so enthusiastic?"

Sir Aston Cooper Key stood up and walked to the huge nautical chart on the wall, pressing a red pencil heavily into the Bosphorus Strait: “Once the Russian fleet passes through here—” his finger traced across the Aegean Sea and stopped at the Dardanelles Strait exit, “they only need three armored cruisers to block the exit, and the Ottoman grain ships will rot in the Sea of ​​Marmara.”

“And the Ottoman Empire, deprived of its sea supplies,” he said coldly, “would not last more than three months.”

Gladstone turned his gaze to Earl Granville: "Earl, what do you think?"

Count Granville gently stroked the silver pocket watch chain, a cold smile appearing on his lips: "What the Russians have never wanted is support for us, but Constantinople."

"They want to take advantage of our war with the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom to swallow up the entire Ottoman Empire?" Harcourt frowned.

“No,” Granville shook his head. “They don’t have that appetite. The Tsar only wants Constantinople and its surroundings—as for the rest, they have neither the capacity to digest it nor the courage to challenge our and the German Empire’s bottom line.”

The Prime Minister thought for a moment: "What if we send Lord Nelson's rank to the Mediterranean?"

Prince George slammed his fist on the table: "What? We're going to use Lord Nelson's class to fill the hole left by the Turks? Then who will take care of the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom's 'Hidden Dragon' class?"

Foreign Secretary Granville grabbed the naval shipbuilding catalog, flipped to the latest page, and pointed to a line of data that seemed to offer the British Empire a lifeline: "Standard displacement 15600 tons, two twin-mounted 305mm main guns, four twin-mounted plus two single-mounted 234mm secondary guns—a firepower network of 14 heavy guns is enough to crush any Russian ironclad, and one can annihilate the entire Black Sea Fleet! But it cannot fill the abyss of the Pacific!"

Gladstone paused for a moment, then slowly raised his head and looked at Gladstone: "So..."

Count Granville smiled slightly: "Therefore, Prime Minister, if the Tsar wants Constantinople, he must stand with us! Otherwise, he will get nothing! Moreover, he cannot do nothing! Doing nothing is also a loss!"

Gladstone's eyes suddenly gleamed: "That's right! We don't want another Napoleonic Empire to appear in Western and Central Europe, and Tsarist Russia wants it even less! We can still rely on the Royal Navy to defend the English Channel, but the Tsar has a land border with the German Empire! Once the German Empire flattens Red France, Tsarist Russia will be its next target!"

"Exactly!" Earl Granville stood up abruptly. "The British Empire has no permanent friends, only permanent interests! If an alliance with France can strangle the German Empire, we can send a treaty to Paris tomorrow!"

Prince George snapped a quill pen in half: "An alliance with Red France?! Those thugs who beheaded Louis XVI!"

"It's better than letting Wilhelm I plant the Iron Cross in Calais!" Gladstone interrupted him. "Send envoys to St. Petersburg and Paris immediately. We must form a grand alliance of Britain, the United States, France, and Russia to oppose the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom and the German Empire—the two evil axes!"

His fist slammed into the nautical chart, causing the coffee cups and ashtrays on it to bounce a few times: "Lord Nelson and HMS Agamemnon, both out of port! Tell the Tsar... the dignity the Royal Navy lost in the Strait of Malacca is enough to be regained in the Black Sea with two super battleships!"

In early November 1884.

On the platform of Gare du Nord in Paris, a cold wind swirled coal dust across the tracks. Karl Moore wrapped his old overcoat tighter, his gray beard trembling slightly in the cold wind. Standing beside him were Blanqué, Chairman of the Council of People's Commissars of Red France, and Friedrich, People's Commissar for Armaments.

“The British have finally given in,” Blanqui sneered.

Moore did not answer, but simply gazed at the train slowly approaching in the distance. The carriage doors opened, and the Earl of Granville, the British Foreign Secretary, stepped out, followed by two aides in black suits.

“Mr. Moore,” Count Granville nodded slightly, “I’ve heard so much about you.” Moore extended his hand, his aged fingers lined with wrinkles: “Welcome to Paris, Count.”

Blanqui stepped forward, his voice cold and hard: "Our People's Committee is ready for talks."

Count Granville's gaze swept over the armed Red Guard soldiers on the platform, a slight smile playing on his lips: "It seems the 'New Order' in France is functioning quite well."

“It’s better than your monarchy,” Blanqui said bluntly.

Moore coughed lightly: "Count, this is not the place to talk. Let's talk about it when we get to the People's Commissariat."

Meeting room of the People's Commissariat for Foreign Affairs in Paris.

The fire crackled in the fireplace, illuminating the red flag hanging on the wall. On either side of the long table, representatives of the red-clad French and the British diplomatic corps sat facing each other.

Earl Granville picked up his teacup and took a small sip: "Prime Minister Gladstone hopes to reach an agreement with the French Republic."

Blanki sneered: "What agreement? You want us to hold off the Germans for you?"

“No,” Count Granville shook his head, “it is to jointly contain the expansion of the German Empire.”

"Together?" Friedrich scoffed. "Your fleet was utterly routed by the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom in Malacca, and now you're thinking of us?"

Count Granville remained unmoved: "The interests of the Empire need to be adjusted, and the security of France also needs to be guaranteed."

Moore spoke slowly: "Count, what do you want?"

“We need the French army to contain Germany,” Count Granville said, looking directly into Moore’s eyes, “and you… need our navy to protect the Mediterranean shipping lanes.”

Blanki slammed his fist on the table: "Protect? Your fleet couldn't even hold Singapore!"

The Earl of Granville remained calm: "But in the Mediterranean, the Royal Navy remains the dominant force."

Moore paused for a moment, then looked up at Earl Granville: "What price are you willing to pay?"

“The price,” Count Granville said slowly. “First, we can provide you with a large quantity of weapons and equipment for your army! Second, we can allow the Red French army to land in Algeria. On your red map, there are also the Algiers, Oran, and Constantine provinces, right?”

Blanqui and Friedrich exchanged a glance. This condition was quite sincere! Although Red France proclaimed its anti-colonial stance, these three "departments" were not colonies, but rather an integral and sacred part of the French Republic! The residents of these three departments, whether white French or local North Africans, were all citizens of Red France!

Therefore, the recapture of the three provinces was undoubtedly a major victory for Red France!
“And Corsica?” Friedrich pressed.

Corsica is currently under the rule of the elderly Queen Mathilde, continuing the legitimacy of the Bonaparte dynasty.

“There are German troops stationed on Corsica,” said Count Granville, “as well as armored cruisers of the German Empire. Let’s discuss the ownership of Corsica after the full-scale war between us and the German Empire breaks out!”

Corsica, of course, could not be easily handed over to France—it was the leash that the British Empire used to keep Red France in check!
Moore sighed softly: "Count, you still don't understand... What France needs is not charity, but equal allies."

Earl Granville narrowed his eyes: "What does Mr. Moore mean?"

“We need technology.” Moore’s voice was deep and firm. “Steam turbines, armor steel smelting technology, warship blueprints, internal combustion engine blueprints… You’ve blockaded us for fifteen years. Now, it’s time to end it.”

Friedrich added, “Count, if you truly wish to curb the German Empire’s ambition to dominate Europe, you should not restrict France’s industrial capacity. The German Empire now has over 8000 million people, more than our two countries combined. If you cannot liberate Germany’s production capacity, can your industry alone sustain its dominance for long? Moreover, you must also stand with the United States in the East against a superpower of industry!”

The Earl of Granville remained silent for a long time before finally nodding slowly: "I will convey this to the Prime Minister."

Blanqui sneered, "I hope your 'sincerity' isn't too late."

(End of this chapter)