Before long, word that the flames of rebellion in Bohemia had not been fully extinguished reached London. Palmerston held this loose assortment of rebels in high regard.
Some people raised questions.
"Viscount, the Czechs you favored turned from a regular army into a Guerrilla Force in just one day. What do you make of that?"
Palmerston greatly enjoyed the feeling of being surrounded by people, even if he was not the focus of it.
"I am very gratified."
The reporters were rather baffled.
"Are you standing with the Austrian Empire, then?"
"No, of course I stand with justice and civilization. But gentlemen, imagine two boxers fighting in a ring. The stronger, larger-built side will naturally hold the advantage and will find it easier to claim victory.
The friction between Austria and Bohemia is much the same as a tall, brawny Maori and a scrawny, pitiable child from the streets of London. There is simply no suspense in a fight between the two."
Austria and Britain still had an armistice agreement at the time, and neither side had openly torn off the mask. There was no point offending the Austrian Empire over a force that had already lost, so Palmerston had to watch his wording.
If the rebels in Prague had not been wiped out overnight, he would have had other things to say. But now, this was all he could say.
What had happened in Prague undoubtedly confirmed Palmerston's point, but another question arose: why had he said he was so gratified?
Palmerston had deliberately compared Austria to the Maori of New Zealand because, at the time, the British stereotype of the Maori was that they were savage cannibals who had just betrayed Britain and completely disregarded those civilized treaties.
The image of a frail child on the streets of