“Jolly good! I presume that, even if the mob cannot be actively pointed in the right direction, then we can ensure that Norton’s is not forgotten?”
“I think it might well be the case, sir, that one or two would have an active grudge against the largest mill in town.”
Their soup came, and then a course of the fresh fish recently available, and a well-cooked steak and kidney pie and a special treat of a Floating Island pudding; they left the hotel at peace with the world.
The Mill-Owners Committee came into emergency session in a town that stank of recently extinguished fires. The streets were full of militia and a regiment of lancers had arrived from Lancaster, though none could imagine what possible use they would be.
There was a low buzz of conversation, redolent of restrained shock; a number of owners made a point of greeting Mr Norton and shaking his hand, muttering their sympathy.
George Star stood and called the meeting to order – they had, as was obvious, much to discuss. He welcomed the presence of the Lord Lieutenant, come in person to inspect the scene of devastation, begged him to open proceedings with a few words.
The Lord Lieutenant expressed his horror, said how deeply appalled he was and how sorry that such an outrage could occur. He hoped they were well insured.
“Not all insurance companies offer cover against civil disorder, my lord. The expectation there is that the Crown will accept its responsibility to maintain public stability and keep the peace.”
The Lord Lieutenant shook his head, was unable to make any commitment; possibly there might be a Commission of Inquiry into the night’s events, but more than that he could not say.
A Commission would take a year, at least, to set up and as long again to make a report; its findings would go to government for discussion and possibly to Parliament for debate. Depending upon the final outcome then a petition for financial redress might be presented to the Crown and might, or might not, be successful to some extent. The process could not be completed in less than five years, might well extend far beyond that.
Norton, who had expected little, realised he would get nothing; he shrank into himself in his seat at the table, tried to come to first terms with ruin.
George Star looked his sympathy, slowly shaking his head. Mr Tonks, sat in the body of the big room, slumped in his chair, head down in his hands, clearly overcome by the moment; he sat up again as soon as he had composed his features, wiped away all traces of his grin. He showed an intelligent interest as George stood again.
“Gentlemen, I must propose that we establish a fund for the benefit of those amongst us who have suffered so greatly. Some will, I believe, be forced entirely out of business and their suffering must surely be ameliorated by men of good will.”
The Lord Lieutenant applauded such a gesture, volunteered himself for fifty pounds. George instantly matched him and looked around expectantly. A thousand was raised inside five minutes and consciences were thoroughly assuaged.
“Now, have we a reckoning for the night’s losses, gentlemen? Do we actually know the sum total?”
Norton reported that all three of his mills had been burnt out, together with all of his stocks of finished pieces and of raw materials. At a first glance he believed that he had not a loom remaining that could be salvaged. He had been wiped out.
Four other mill owners spoke of a lesser degree of damage, of fires that had been extinguished before total loss had occurred. In fact, when they had taken a final view it might be that their losses would not be so great at all. They had had night shifts working and had been able to organise bucket chains from the canal; poor Mr Norton had been subjected to the full force of the mob and his people had been made to run. It was shocking bad luck.
George stood again, begged a report from the Watch; had any arrests been made? What investigations were taking place?
The Mayor offered his deep regrets that little had been achieved. The Militia had arrived during the night and had restored order with dawn’s first light and had, in fact, apprehended more than eighty of the villains. He explained that most of them were drunks who had been taken with their stolen bottles and that the rest were looters discovered in possession of goods taken from the burning loading bays.
The militia were patrolling the streets and the cavalry were to be sent out into the rural areas; no doubt they would receive information that would lead to the arrest of other thieves and arsonists. The Mayor understood that the services of a High Court judge had been begged and that there would be an almost immediate, and exemplary, sitting of the Assizes.
“What is to be done, gentlemen? How do we protect the livelihoods of our workers, and our own prosperity, in future?”
As George had expected the meeting degenerated into expressions of outrage and demands for the putting down of the Reds. He made no attempt to bring them to order until an hour of hot air had passed. A fortuitous interruption gave him the cue.
A messenger, obvious as such from his riding dress, edged his way into the room and sidled to the front table, bent down and whispered to George who hammered on his gavel to attain attention.
“Not all news is bad, gentlemen! Mr Tonks! There is a missive for you!”
Tonks limped forward, his walk more than normally halting to remind all present that he too had suffered at the hands of the mob. He took the note, quickly read it and had the presence of mind to seem joyously affected.
“A son, sir! My lady wife has given me a boy! Both are strong and healthy!”
He had received the message that she had gone into labour on the previous afternoon, but he had had important matters to deal with at the time. Now he accepted the congratulations and good wishes of all present while the Lord Lieutenant quickly begged the privilege of standing as sponsor to the boy – he would be happy to give his name as Godfather. It was a grand gesture, accepted as such by the manufacturing sort in the room.
The mood of the room was better now, the new baby a symbol of a hopeful future perhaps. George took advantage of the atmosphere to propose that the borough would benefit from one of the new police forces.
“A Constabulary, gentlemen! It would be a burden upon us to an extent, for we would have to pay a Rate to cover its expenses, but think of the gain! A force of uniformed and effective constables on the streets would send the drunks back to their kennels and keep the mob down for good! We would sleep safe in our beds at night. I would strongly commend the measure to you.”
The Lord Lieutenant was taken by surprise but could find no objection to the proposal. There was a council already in existence to act as authority and he was sure, reasonably certain at least, that the government would support a Private Bill for the purpose. The meeting supported the idea and, as more than a half of the members of the council were mill owners and present, it was sure to be taken up by the local officials.
“Highly satisfactory, Mr Tonks! A modern police force as well, as a side benefit! Do we know anything of Mr Norton’s contracts, by the way? We might well be able to make early contact with his unsatisfied purchasers.”
Tonks pledged himself to find out. He had been intending to ride out to his summer place up in the hills, his wife having gone to the more salubrious air for her confinement, but that could wait for another day or two.
Book Ten: A Poor Man
at the Gate Series
Chapter Nine
The railway was to open! Great festivities were planned and Mr Stephenson was to display his triumph in front of the Londoners who had mocked him so cruelly just a few years before. In the first attempt to pass a Private Bill to purchase the rights of way for the railway southern lawyers with their snobby accents had mocked the Northumbrian speaker, illiterate till the age of eighteen, who had stood before them. They had asked impossible, often meaningless questions and had used his failure to give satisfactory answers as proof that he was no more than a peasant, out of place amongst real people. When he had failed to conclusively prove that his steam engines would
not scare the fox away they had derided him for attempting to destroy the way of life of his betters. Stephenson had neither forgotten nor forgiven them.
He had gathered together his eight engines that were to work the line and organised a grand procession from Liverpool to Manchester. Royalty was not present, but His Grace of Wellington was, accompanied by the bulk of the government and opposition both.
“Americans have come across the ocean for the occasion, James, as well as Prussians and almost every other sort of German. A few Austrians, though they tend not to take this sort of thing seriously – one gathers they demanded to know Stephenson’s quarterings of nobility! No French, of course – they have better things to do; no Spanish because the Inquisition has yet to determine whether steam engines are Godly in origin. A substantial contingent of Dutch – theirs is a flat country, ideal for the railway.”
James could understand that, thanked Joseph for his explanation.
“What of Russia, Joseph?”
“Steam engines? Russia? They haven’t invented fire yet!”
“Ah, I had not realised. No representative of the Ottoman that I can see.”
“None, though it was thought that the Shah of Persia – far more advanced a country – might have displayed an interest.”
James made a mental note that Joseph favoured Persia over Turkey; he would do the same.
“What is to be done today?”
“The bigwigs will arrive by carriage and will be inducted into the trains – His Grace to occupy the largest and most ornate of the newly built railway carriages. They will then proceed towards Manchester, stopping frequently for the crowds to cheer until Manchester itself is reached. At the terminus there all will be reversed and the Duke will be quickly brought out again without stepping down – he is not popular in Manchester and there are too few soldiers to maintain order. The mob will be out waiting for him, there is no doubt.”
James was not aware of the depth of feeling in the industrial towns. He had been told that the recent outbursts of incendiary violence had been the work of an insignificant minority, almost wholly unsupported by the bulk of the people.
“Most of the workers chose to keep their jobs – even barebones pay is better than no wage at all. But ask yourself where are the prosecutions?”
Very few cases had come to court; James had assumed this to mean there were very few felons.
“No informers! The Watch have been unable to find evidence – and not through intimidation. My people tell me that the great bulk of ordinary folk will not name the troublemakers out of loyalty to their ideas.”
“What is to be done?”
“Make a show of reform, James. Factory Acts – valueless in themselves but displaying an interest in the well-being of the ordinary man. Many of the better employers will make an extra effort if they think government is concerned. The slave-drivers, of course, will never change, but nothing can be done about them.”
James saw Robert, was very happy to change the topic.
“Is that not Mr Huskisson in Robert’s company, James?”
“It is – he is to seek a rapprochement with the Duke, I believe. To a great extent it is Robert’s doing, one is told, he having made the effort to encourage so able a man back into government.”
Joseph was pleased – very few politicians had any sympathy with the new manufacturing but Huskisson had made great efforts to come to terms with the modern world.
“Why did they fall out, do you know?”
“Corn Laws and Catholics – why else would any politician cross swords in late years?”
“Huskisson is in favour of a repeal of the Corn Laws, one presumes?”
It was sufficiently well-known that His Grace much favoured a tightening of the Corn Laws to force the price of wheat higher.
“He is prepared to compromise, and the Catholic issue no longer exists and there is a new King who must be put in his place. Add to that, James, your people are well on the way to taking over the government. The Tories cannot afford disunity just at the moment.”
“Quite right, they cannot. What is planned?”
“Nothing, in terms of an actual scheme, but both men know of the presence of the other and neither will be surprised when they happen to bump into each other and fall into conversation.”
It was better that way – plots and plans always eventually came to light, but a meeting by accident on a holiday occasion could lead to anything or nothing with no intrusive comment from the newspapers.
The Duke arrived to great applause and was led to his festive carriage – a gaudily decorated, tasteless monument to vulgarity. The eight-wheeled carriage was dressed overall in crimson and gold, festooned with allegorical laurel wreaths and standing some four feet above the ground; it had no steps of its own and the doors were reached by movable staircases, supplied at planned stopping points. It had a roof and sides up to some three feet, was otherwise open all round. There were bench seats of dubious comfort. Little thought had been given to passenger carriages as the projectors of the railway envisaged that almost all of its traffic would be goods rather than people.
The bands played and the people cheered, spectators on every possible vantage point and lining the sides of the cuttings and bridges leading out of Liverpool. The eight engines puffed out steam and smoke and smuts and ashes, much of which descended on the passengers, and the trains led away in procession, a safe distance, judged by eye, between each.
Wellington’s train took the lead and travelled some seventeen miles, about half of the journey, in less than an hour and then stopped to take on water. Many of the passengers climbed down to the tracks to stretch their legs, despite the pleas of the railwaymen to stay aboard. Huskisson saw his opportunity and wandered along the track to Wellington’s carriage.
There were shouts of alarm and the passengers scattered as Rocket came in sight on the parallel track, travelling at some speed, faster than a carriage and horses it transpired and closing the distance alarmingly. Huskisson was no longer a young man and had a weak leg – the rheumatics, it was presumed; he did not think he could run clear and reached up to the low door of Wellington’s carriage to pull himself up and inside. As Rocket approached the latch gave way and the carriage door swung open, precipitating Huskisson onto the track and throwing a thigh under the oncoming wheels. The leg was crushed, almost wholly severed high up to the hip.
There was no doctor to hand but every military man could see that the wound was mortal. They lifted Huskisson into a carriage and set off at highest speed towards Manchester to seek medical attention, his condition steadily worsening. Reaching Eccles the line passed by the big rectory and they stopped and took Huskisson inside, deciding that the care of the local reverend was more appropriate to his needs. He died before dusk.
The celebrations continued, though slightly muted – it was felt inappropriate for the band to play during the evening’s banquet in Liverpool.
Robert was appalled. The new railways were unacceptably dangerous and it was not, he was now convinced, the part of a responsible man to encourage them or make money from them.
He confronted Joseph next morning.
“We must turn our minds away from the railway, Joseph. Respectable enterprises can have nothing to do with the blood-stained steam engine. I shall give the instruction that Roberts Foundries will take no contracts relating to the new industry and that our pits will not sell to them or transport coals on them!”
“If you do that you will destroy our prosperity, Robert. There is no alternative to steam or to the steam locomotive engine.”
“There must be.”
“There is not. You must seek the opinion of the whole family before you take precipitate action, Robert! The death of Mr Huskisson is a tragedy but it is no reason to bankrupt us all. Your response is irrational, sir!”
James appeared at the breakfast table and was immediately drawn into the argument; he sided with Joseph, much to Robert’s surprise, indeed outrage.
“If Britain does not espouse the steam railway, then no doubt America or Prussia will. We shall very soon be left behind. Their ironworks will grow and ours will not. We must progress, Robert. We have no choice!”
Robert believed there was always a choice, and he proposed to take it.
“We must ask the opinion of Sir Matthew, and of Charlotte; they have a right to be heard. I believe as well we should discuss the matter with the bankers. Roberts must expand its activities and be ready to produce wrought iron rails by the hundreds of mile; we must forge ten thousand wheels; the new wagons and carriages for passengers and for cattle, for coal and wheat and iron-ore and lime and the ten thousand other bulky commodities must be designed and fabricated. If we fall behind then we will dwindle and die, Robert. You are wrong!”
The ladies arrived at the table and poured oil on the troubled waters, returned the men to civility at least.
“Sir Iain Mostyn is the guest of Lord Star, I believe, my lord,” Miriam offered.
There had been insufficient space in Joseph’s house to accommodate the Mostyn entourage as well as his elder brother’s massive brood; Miriam’s father had very much wished to see the new railway and the Stars’ invitation had been made very willingly. Whilst in Lancashire Sir Iain was to take the opportunity to visit Mr George Star’s growing empire and discuss the possibility of financing the purchase and rebuilding of a number of recently burnt derelict mills.
Notes were sent and the menfolk travelled out to Freemans next day, apart from Sir Matthew who made his journey that afternoon and spent much of the evening closeted with his brother and the banker.
Robert found himself with his eighty per cent holding in the firm and no other support; his family was solidly aligned against him. His goodfather and mentor, Sir Iain, was opposed to his proposal – and he could not but respect his opinion. Brother James was sure their political influence would be compromised and, if his intelligence was limited, his judgement tended to be sound. Joseph knew that the firms would fall behind, out of the mainstream of innovation. Sir Matthew believed steam to be indivisible, that advances in locomotive engineering must be reflected in the maritime world.
The Vice Of Virtue (A Poor Man At The Gate Series Book 10) Page 23
