It goes without saying that in 1840, the kind of large-scale press conferences familiar to modern people simply did not exist.
That did not mean politicians had no way to communicate with the press.
Most commonly, politicians spoke through public speeches or parliamentary debates, where reporters would attend, take notes, and occasionally ask questions.
At other times, politicians issued official statements or quietly leaked information to friendly newspapers.
They might also use personal connections with journalists, or newspapers could write their own articles by referencing the parliamentary records known as Hansard.
But that was about the extent of it.
The large, organized press conference—where dozens of journalists gathered to question politicians openly—would not become common until the late nineteenth century.
Which meant the reporters gathered before us were witnessing something entirely new.
They stared at us with shining eyes, clearly overwhelmed by this unprecedented display of press-friendly politics.
Even reporters from Whig-aligned newspapers such as The Morning Chronicle, Daily News, and The Spectator were looking at me with open curiosity—and, surprisingly, a hint of goodwill.
Still, because this was their first experience with something like this, none of them dared speak first.
It was almost amusing.
Reporters who weren't bombarding someone with questions.
What a rare sight.
"First of all," I began, "I would like to thank the reporters who have gathered here today."
"I'm sure many of you are wondering why we arranged this meeting."
"Mr. Wellesley and I have spent considerable time thinking about how to convey our party's position more effectively to all of you."
"Politics is becoming increasingly complex, and the scale of newspapers continues to grow."
"So we began to wonder—how long should we continue relying on outdated methods?"
"Isn't that terribly inefficient?"
The moment I finished speaking, the reporters began nodding in unison.
In the modern world, journalists were often criticized.
Even in this era, they were sometimes compared to hyenas.
But many reporters of this time still possessed a strong sense of mission.
They believed journalism could expose injustice and hold politicians accountable.
The problem was that the current system forced newspapers to depend heavily on information carefully selected and fed to them by politicians.
But if politicians answered questions openly in front of numerous media outlets—
Then reporters could ask questions they would never dare ask in private meetings.
After all, people tended to grow bolder when surrounded by others.
"So Mr. Wellesley and I devised a method," I continued,
"to ensure that our voices as politicians can reach you—and through you, the citizens—more clearly."
"That is why we intend to hold gatherings like this regularly, to communicate with you in the truest sense."
"Splendid!"
"You and Mr. Wellesley are true statesmen who respect both the people and the press!"
"So does that mean the Conservative Party will continue communicating with reporters like this?"
"What should we call it exactly…?"
"You may call it a press conference."
"A press conference! I like the sound of that!"
Of course, politicians had occasionally gathered reporters before.
But this was the first time it had been formalized as an official practice.
And since we were presenting it as a hallmark of the new Conservative Party, the press would inevitably view us favorably for the foreseeable future.
Even Whig-friendly journalists would likely return to their offices and write articles arguing that the Whigs should adopt the same practice to compete with us.
"I believe that explains why we created this gathering," I said.
"So let us move on to the main subject."
"The events in Parliament today have already spread across London, and many citizens are wondering what exactly happened."
"You reporters will only have Hansard to rely on, which does not capture the full picture."
"So we would like to present the objective facts."
A reporter quickly raised his hand.
"Is it true that the vote of no confidence against the Prime Minister passed?"
"Absolutely," I replied.
"The motion was proposed by the Whigs, and Mr. Wellesley and many Conservative members voted in favor."
"This was not merely a factional dispute within the party."
"It was a decision made for the greater good of the nation, because we believed the government faced serious problems."
A reporter from The Spectator spoke cautiously.
"Are you saying Prime Minister Robert Peel's cabinet had serious problems?"
"But Minister Gore, you yourself served in that cabinet."
It was a fair question.
But I had expected it from the beginning.
"In order to answer that," I said calmly,
"I must first explain how I became a cabinet minister."
"I was not appointed because the Prime Minister trusted me."
"In fact…"
"He likely hoped I would fail."
The room erupted in murmurs.
For a man who had become a national hero and the youngest cabinet minister in history, this was not the story they expected to hear.
Excellent.
A perfect reaction for the first major topic of the world's first true press conference.
"The Prime Minister sent me to Qing China because the diplomatic situation surrounding opium had reached a complete deadlock."
"If events had continued as they were, Britain would have been forced into a war with no legitimate justification."
"And that would have left a disgraceful stain on the proud history of the British Empire."
"But the Prime Minister wished to avoid being personally stained by such a conflict."
"So he chose to make me the sacrificial lamb."
"If the war occurred, he could claim he had appointed a minister familiar with Asia and Asian culture, yet circumstances had forced Britain's hand."
A reporter interjected.
"But you resolved the situation brilliantly."
"You even secured enormous benefits for the Empire."
"We heard the Prime Minister valued you highly afterward."
"That is not entirely true," I replied.
"It seems many senior figures in the Conservative Party were uncomfortable watching a young man rise so quickly."
"They argued that since I had achieved success in Asia, I should remain there."
"They nearly appointed me special envoy to Hong Kong."
"In fact, the decision had nearly been finalized."
I placed several documents on the table.
"These records detail the discussions at the time."
Reporters hurriedly scribbled notes while exclaiming in surprise.
The narrative was irresistible.
A national hero returning home after great achievements—
Only to be nearly exiled by jealous party elders.
"What stopped the plan from sending you to Asia?" someone asked.
"Evidence emerged suggesting several senior members of the Conservative Party were connected to opium merchants," I replied.
"The Prime Minister feared this scandal would damage his popularity."
"So instead of sending me away, he chose to support my work combating the looming famine crisis."
"But once that work began showing success…"
"He became nervous again."
"After all, both Mr. Wellesley and I were gaining significant public support."
"And so he began attacking Mr. Wellesley using the Canadian Immigration Bill as a pretext."
At that point, Wellesley stepped forward and continued.
"I have always respected my senior colleagues," he said.
"I was raised to honor the achievements of those who came before me."
"And I believe I have treated them with sincerity."
"But respect cannot be a one-way street."
"If juniors respect their seniors, then seniors must show generosity and consideration in return."
"Sadly, it seems our party has forgotten even that basic courtesy."
"Is that why you opposed the Prime Minister?" a reporter asked.
"I could tolerate attacks against myself," Wellesley said.
"But Minister Gore is someone I have supported since his youth."
"He is my political partner."
"A man destined to become a pillar not only of the Conservative Party but of the British Empire."
"And yet they sought to crush him simply because he is young—and because he was born in Ireland."
"Is that acceptable?"
If I had said those words myself, they would have sounded like the complaints of an Irishman.
But Wellesley was the son of the Duke of Wellington.
A man born into the heart of England's ruling elite.
When someone like him spoke those words—
They became not complaints, but a powerful act of self-reflection by the ruling class.
"The British Empire," Wellesley continued passionately,
"is the greatest nation on Earth."
"Who are we?"
"We are the nation that established parliamentary governance faster than anyone else."
"We are the nation that abolished the slave trade and slavery itself in the name of human dignity."
"What Britain needs now is talent."
"I will dedicate myself to building an era where those with talent can use it fully."
"So you are saying anyone with talent may serve the nation?" a reporter asked.
"Talent alone is not enough," Wellesley replied.
"We also need patriotism, devotion to the country, and unwavering faith in the values passed down by our ancestors."
"But if someone possesses both ability and conviction…"
"I will welcome them with open arms."
"This is not empty rhetoric."
"The minister beside me was born in Ireland."
"My close friend Benjamin Disraeli is of Jewish heritage."
"So what?"
"No men have contributed more to the Empire or cared more deeply for its future."
Reporters scribbled furiously, trying not to miss a single word.
Charles deliberately paused between sentences so they could keep up.
"I did not support the vote of no confidence simply because the Prime Minister attacked me."
"If that were the case, I would have acted long ago."
"I supported it because the Prime Minister's philosophy and his government's direction were dangerously out of step with the future of the British Empire."
"Someone had to correct that course."
"And restore the true spirit of the Conservative Party."
"So in the upcoming election," a reporter asked,
"will you completely break with Prime Minister Peel's faction?"
"Regrettably, that now seems unavoidable," Charles Wellesley replied.
"They sought to crush new talent within the party."
"They turned an immigration bill affecting millions of lives into a political weapon."
"And even now they refuse to acknowledge their mistakes."
"How can we continue to entrust the party to such leadership?"
"I, Charles Wellesley, will restore the true values of the Conservative Party in the coming election!"
A quiet murmur spread through the room.
The fire had been lit.
From here, The Morning Post—which I had already purchased through James—would begin publishing a relentless series of articles dismantling Robert Peel and the party elders.
Even if they tried to accuse us of propaganda, it was already too late.
By striking first with a massive press conference, we had seized control of the narrative.
And during this conference, I had already begun discreetly handing journalists evidence capable of destroying the Prime Minister's corrupt allies.
No matter what he said afterward—
It would not matter.
I had heard that Peel's faction planned to fight through public opinion.
Honestly, that was welcome news.
If they wished to battle using propaganda—
Then I would simply show them the spicy flavor of twenty-first-century political warfare.
They would find the capsaicin concentration overwhelming.
As reporters left the building, praising the conference enthusiastically, Charles Wellesley spoke quietly.
"The first step seems to have gone well."
"Shall we begin the next stage?"
"Let's," I replied.
"By tomorrow or the day after, they will realize they cannot win through public opinion."
"And they will change tactics."
"My father has agreed to assist us," Wellesley added.
"The House of Lords will not be a problem."
"Of course he would help," I said.
"What father wouldn't support his son becoming Prime Minister?"
"In that case, I'll go to the palace."
"I have an appointment with Her Majesty."
If public opinion failed them—
They would try to rely on authority and power instead.
Unfortunately for them—
By the time they realized it, the House of Lords and the Royal Court would already be on our side.
Could they still hold their heads high after turning every major force in the British Empire against them?
I looked forward to finding out.
Because once the tide had turned—
Struggling only dragged one deeper.
They would never admit it.
But from this moment onward—
The Conservative Party already belonged to us.