Authors: Simon Scarrow
Fire and Sword (47 page)
‘Admirably, sir.’
‘Very well then, we’ll speak no more of this, Stoper.’ Arthur eased himself back in his chair with a deep sigh.‘And now, I’m afraid we must deal with the first item of business. Namely answering all this correspondence.’
He reached for his letter opener. Slitting the first missive open he unfolded it and quickly read through the contents. Lady Ellesmere humbly requested that her sister’s daughter’s husband be found a minor office at the castle in order that he might earn an income to befit his newly married status.Young Henry was a gracious young man and not without some ability and charm. Arthur put the letter to one side and opened the next as Stoper sat and waited patiently.This time it was from a former army officer whose leg had been crushed under a supply wagon, who as a consequence had been discharged from his regiment. Knowing that the new Chief Secretary was a soldier, this former comrade in arms wondered if Arthur might be prevailed upon to find a position for a brother officer down on his luck.
Arthur looked at the pile of letters. ‘All these arrived today?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And am I likely to receive more in the days to come?’
‘I’m afraid these are only the first of many, sir.’
Arthur glared at the pile with undisguised malevolence. ‘Is there any procedure for dealing with such correspondence?’
Stoper coughed. ‘If you refer it to me I can prioritise these for you, sir.’
‘On what basis?’ Arthur asked as he reached for the next letter.
‘Political expediency, sir. The letters will be arranged according to the rank of the sender. Those from titled persons I will place on your desk and those from commoners I will answer on your behalf, declining their services in suitably apologetic tones.’
Arthur looked at his chief clerk for a moment. ‘Can’t say I care for such a system’
‘It worked well enough for your predecessors, sir.’
‘Oh, very well then.’ Arthur opened the next letter and felt his heart sink as he recognised the handwriting. It was from his mother, Lady Mornington, in London. She began by congratulating him on his new position before moving swiftly on to make the first of her recommendations on behalf of those who were deserving of Arthur’s patronage. Arthur read to the bottom of the page, and then leafed through the other sheets.
‘By God, there’s over four pages of requests here!’
Stoper leaned forward. ‘That is highly unusual, sir. Might I ask who the letter is from?’
‘My mother.’
‘Ah, a matter of some delicacy then.’
‘You can’t imagine.’ Arthur tapped the letter and smiled ruefully. ‘And where does a letter from one’s mother fit into your scheme of political expediency?’
‘Mothers are a special case. I would advise you to attend to it at once, sir.’
Arthur took a deep breath and prepared to read the whole letter in detail. He gestured to the piled correspondence. ‘I’d be obliged if you took those with you and dealt with them. I shall be busy enough with this one letter as it is.’
Despite the Duke of Richmond’s aspiration to find the best men for the jobs, it soon became clear that this was no more than a pious hope. It seemed that any person with whom Arthur had ever been remotely connected had written to him with a favour to ask. There was even a letter from Richard asking if some post might be found for a boatman who had served him when he was Governor General of India. Accordingly Stoper was left to apply his system for dealing with such requests while Arthur turned his attention to other tasks.
The first of these was the delicate matter of dealing with a request from the city councillors who wished to hold a parade through the streets of Dublin to celebrate the battle of Vinegar Hill.The mayor and a small deputation of corporate worthies came to Arthur’s office to seek his permission and co-operation for the parade. As soon as formal greetings had been exchanged the mayor, a tall, broad man with red cheeks, spread out a street map of the capital across Arthur’s desk.
He gestured to Arthur’s inkwell.‘Sir, if you would kindly deploy that on the corner to hold it down. Thank you. Ah! That’s it.’ The mayor grinned happily and pinned the other side of the map to the desk with the letter opener. ‘Now then, sir, I have taken the liberty of illustrating the intended route of the procession in pencil. As you can see, we shall pass through the middle of the Catholic districts and end here, in front of the castle gate, where I hope his grace will be kind enough to take the salute. And if his grace is unavailable then I would consider it an honour if you would take his place.’
‘Doubtless,’ Arthur responded awkwardly.‘I have to confess that I am somewhat confused, gentlemen. It was my understanding that the purpose of this meeting was to request permission for the procession to take place.’
‘Well, of course, sir.’ The mayor continued to smile. ‘But that is, of course, a formality. Such an event as the decisive victory over those papist rebel scoundrels must surely be celebrated.’
‘Why?’
‘Why?’ The mayor frowned. ‘Why what, sir? I don’t follow you.’
‘Why must this battle be celebrated?’ Arthur asked evenly. ‘Surely a conflict between our people should be mourned, not celebrated?’
‘But sir! Vinegar Hill was a victory of patriots over traitors.’ The mayor drew himself up and clasped his hand over his heart. Arthur felt a cold shudder of contempt at the man’s theatricality as the mayor declaimed, ‘I consider myself to be a true patriot, as do my colleagues. It is our duty to celebrate our triumph over the papists.’
Arthur nodded. ‘Our triumph, eh? I take it you were on the battlefield in person and fought the traitors hand to hand?’
‘Me, sir?’The mayor frowned. ‘Not in person, sir. But there in spirit, by God!’
‘Trust me, then. It is a very different thing to be there in person. And had you been then perhaps you would not be so impressed with yourself. Nor so eager to celebrate the event.’ Arthur let his words sink in and continued.‘This battle took place nearly a decade ago. Since then it has been the policy of the government to bring peace to Ireland.With mixed success, I admit. But the question that I would ask you fine gentlemen to consider is whether this procession of yours is more likely to encourage peace, or enmity. Well?’
The mayor drew a deep breath and puffed out his cheeks. ‘The enmity was on the part of the rebels, sir. It is vital that the loyal men of Ireland are reminded of the sacrifices made to ensure that they do not have to live through bloody revolution. Why, if it were not for the victory at Vinegar Hill there would be a tricolour flying above Dublin Castle and not the Union flag! Think on that, sir, before you presume to upbraid me!’
Arthur shook his head.‘I do not mean to upbraid you. I do not mean to discount the sacrifices of the men at Vinegar Hill. I mean to ensure that the people of Ireland can enjoy the fruits of the subsequent peace. Accordingly we must not revive the divisions of the past. The conflict between our people should be forgotten if there is to be any chance of contentment in this troubled island. Do you not agree, sir?’ Arthur continued before the mayor could reply, ‘Therefore I do not give permission for your procession to take place.’
The mayor’s eyes bulged and there were some angry murmurs from those in his deputation. The mayor swallowed and hastily gathered his map in and rolled it up. ‘Then, sir, I shall take this matter to a higher authority, to someone who knows the true value of patriotism, and subscribes to the belief in no surrender to papist plotters.’
‘You are welcome to try,’ Arthur said with cool politeness. ‘Now, I bid you good day, gentlemen.’
As the mayor and the deputation strode out of his office, Arthur caught the eye of Stoper and beckoned him over. Once he was sure that he would not be heard by his departing visitors Arthur spoke.
‘Better send a quick note to his grace. Inform him of what has happened and my decision on this matter. Send it at once, before those men have a chance to drive a wedge between the Lord Lieutenant and his Chief Secretary.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Stoper pencilled a hurried line in his notebook. ‘Will that be all, sir?’
‘Quite enough, thank you.’
‘Very well, sir.’ Stoper bowed his head and made his way to the door. There he paused and looked back.
‘Well?’ Arthur raised an eyebrow. ‘What is it?’
‘If I may say so, sir, you did the right thing.’
‘Of course I did,’ Arthur replied coolly. ‘Any bloody fool can see that.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Stoper smiled and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Chapter 29
In an effort to better understand the public mood across Ireland, Arthur took his carriage and, together with Stoper, toured the counties with an escort of dragoons. What he found did not encourage him. In village after village he saw the same ramshackle cabins of the poor who barely eked out a living on the scraps of land they could afford to rent. The landowners were, for the most part, living in England - far from the troubles they had helped to provoke by keeping rents high and leaving their estates in the hands of agents who were intent on earning a comfortable commission by squeezing every last penny out of the hard-pressed tenants.
Each town and large village was garrisoned with redcoat soldiers who patrolled the streets and country lanes with the swagger of those who knew they had complete power over the local inhabitants, who dared not even meet their eye for fear of earning a hard beating. Conversely, it was a brave soldier who ventured out from his barracks alone.Though cowed, those with rebellion still in their hearts were still capable of isolated acts of violence, and Arthur received reports of soldiers and loyalists who had simply disappeared. Once in a while a body might turn up in a bog, or weighted down in a river, too badly decomposed to be identified.
After two weeks spent mostly in his carriage, closely confined with Stoper,Arthur finally gave the order to return to Dublin.As they rumbled along a rutted lane, Arthur stared out of the window at the passing fields, seeing the bent backs of Irish peasants as they laboured at their crops, or made improvements to their lands or rude cottages and shacks.
‘The danger to our interests here does not come from France,’ Arthur mused.
Stoper looked up sharply, having been trying his best to sleep as the carriage bumped along the crude track.
‘Sorry, sir. What did you say?’
‘I was just thinking. Following Trafalgar I doubt whether Bonaparte would consider another attempt at landing a force here in Ireland. He could never amass enough transports to carry the number of men necessary to guarantee the conquest of Ireland.’
‘No, sir. I suppose not.’
‘In which case the danger comes not from without but within.’ Arthur nodded towards the peasants in the field they were passing. A family of perhaps a dozen were busy seeding the tilled soil: a father, mother and children, some barely old enough to walk, let alone work. An infant was tucked in a sling round the mother’s chest. ‘As long as they endure such conditions, they will hold England responsible. Every time a child dies for want of a decent meal, they will blame England.’
Stoper nodded. ‘And it would be hard to blame them for doing so, sir. Not while they feel themselves to be oppressed.’
‘That may be true,’ Arthur replied quietly. ‘Yet, whatever the rights and wrongs of the situation, one thing is certain. Britain cannot dismiss the threat posed by the prospect of an independent Ireland.The French would be interfering here in a trice, landing guns, equipment and men and encircling Britain in an iron fist so that Bonaparte need only clench it to crush us.That cannot be allowed to happen.
‘The trick of it is to instil an innate sense of superiority in those appointed to control Ireland, right down to the last soldier in every garrison. At the same time the people must be made to accept the superiority of Britain. They must believe it so that they shrink from taking action against our rule.’
‘Our rule?’ Stoper repeated the phrase thoughtfully. ‘You already speak as if we were two different peoples and not one.’
‘Yes,’ Arthur replied sadly. ‘That is so. It strikes at my heart to say it, Stoper, but we need to be cruel and heartless long before we can afford to make any kind of move towards relieving the burdens of the people of Ireland. We can only make concessions from a position of strength, or else open the doors to a flood of cries for reform. That would be a flood we could not control. So, for now, there is nothing I can do, save encourage the security of the state by whatever means are necessary.’
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