The Old Mechanics were a cross between a trade union and a Friendly Society and very restrictive when it came to membership. Only millwrights who had served their time could join them and they tried to create a closed shop, refusing, if possible, to work alongside non-members. They wanted to create a full apprenticeship system, less to teach the trade than to control entry to it, and trod a tightrope between full-fledged unionism, which the government detested and had banned, and the mutual assistance of a shared assurance fund, which the government tried its best to encourage for all. Most employers pandered to them in boom times, chose their members to sack first in slump.
“Tell them to make their choice and that we’ll set him on so long as he ain’t blind, crippled or half-witted.”
“There’s another worry as well, the Old Mechanics are setting up a pension fund, Mr Rumpage.”
That could present a problem – membership of the Old Mechanics might become a necessity for any worker who could possibly qualify. A pension fund would attract a better rate of interest than any worker could find for his small savings and would offer protection in case of early death.
“I will speak to Mr Robert. It may be possible to do something ourselves.”
A Friendly Society for all of the workers in the yard would be the best possible answer, but that would cost money because it would be too small to pay for its own administrative costs, the wages of a single clerk eating up all of the interest it earned in a year.
It would have been so much easier if all of the tradesmen could belong to one union, all of the unskilled to another, but their organisation was descended from the old Guilds and mysteries. The woodworkers would not speak to the varnishers, and they had nothing to do with the French polishers who in turn shied away from the deck layers; in the metal trades things were even worse, there were already seventeen distinct specialisations amongst the engine builders. As for those without skills, they were beyond the pale, no union was interested in them just as long as they touched no piece of work that might be seen to be the prerogative of one or other of the trades.
It had the advantage to employers and government alike that there could never be a National Strike, the unions would be quite unable to talk to each other for long enough to organise such an event.
Frances had not imagined that there would be so much to do as Lord Andrews’ wife. She had always been used to potter about the family home, making herself useful in between her music and gardening and reading and social visits, her mother the same. Now she was chatelaine in the oldest-fashioned sense on a large estate, as well as active in Tom’s public life.
She visited the alms houses and talked with the old folk, just to be sure that they were being looked after, that the doctor was earning his few pounds a year retainer and that the butcher’s meat was not all scrag end and the vegetables were not end of day spoilings from the market. Charity, even at second hand, could be very cold and needed a vigorous overseer.
The estate owned perhaps half of the cottages in Finedon itself, some occupied by estate workers, many rented out to local tradesmen and the genteel poor. There were as many as a dozen of spinster ladies and single second or third sons of the County living on no more than a labourer’s income, but having to keep up the front of the gentry. Courtesy demanded that she take tea with them occasionally, spoke to them often. She could do nothing for them, as they could not possibly accept charity, their position could not tolerate it, and they were too lowly to be invited to dine at the Hall, she could only observe as they slowly faded away.
She conferred with the rector, discovered that he had no solution to offer. Those who were willing were occupied for a few hours of each week at the village school, not paid, of course, but sharing the children’s midday meal, often the only meat they took in the week. Amongst the men especially even this was not acceptable and there was literally no relief for their misery.
“A great pity, Lady Andrews, but the soldiers, for example, are fierce in their independence and determined to live as gentlemen on their four shillings a day, paid often a year in arrears. The gin bottle, I am afraid, becomes their sole friend only too often. Few can afford coals for their fire and so they shiver in winter and die alone and unseen, untended in their sickbeds.”
“Yet none are in arrears with their rents, Reverend Harker.”
“Of course not, ma’am, better far to starve rather than be humiliated by having to beg your forbearance.”
“Lord Andrews has received a letter from America, rector. There has been an outbreak of smallpox amongst the settlers in our village. Four out of every five children died, it would seem. They say that the villagers took against the vaccination some few years ago?”
“Before my time, ma’am. I shall make enquiry and press most strongly for the omission to be remedied.”
A vaccinator was brought to the village within the month and almost every child was given protection.
Mr Nugent took to his pulpit in the Chapel and protested against the Church for its persecution of the chapel-goers, for forcing them into a disobedience to the Will of the Lord. Many of the grieving grandparents walked out on him then and there and made their way to the newer chapels scattered around the village, much to his outrage. He protested to the Bench that the new chapels were a source of disorder in the village, but he received very little sympathy, and even less from the Lord Lieutenant when he addressed a letter to him. He did eventually gain a hearing from certain of the Radical Members of Parliament who were not at all surprised to hear that the agricultural Tories were persecuting good Christians; they promised to bear his grievances in mind.
In addition to all this were the requests for aid that came knocking at the servants’ door to the Hall. Once or twice a year an indignant mother would appear, a young daughter with downcast eyes and a big belly in tow. Normally all that needed be done was to call a young man to book and order him to the altar – he had had his fun, now he could pay for it.
Unfortunately, the first such case to come begging Frances’ assistance was less simple.
A quick glance at Mrs Smithers’ daughter showed her to be hardly old enough to have caught pregnant, though a second look said she certainly had. Not the brightest seeming of girls, either.
The Smithers had a smallholding in the eastern block, were not tenants of the estate and so had no direct claim on them. The Andrews were the nearest thing the villagers had to a squire, and there was no other source of aid or justice available.
“Go on! Tell ‘er Ladyship what you said to me!”
The girl sniffled and muttered, barely audibly.
“It were Master Latimer, what done it. When ‘e were gooin’ ridin’ out and about. Master did ‘ave they sticky buns and I likes they and ‘e did give they to I if I lifts me skirts up for ‘e. Then ‘e got I to lie down and ‘e did it to I. I didden know ‘e were gooin’ to, not first time, but ‘e did. Before Christmastide, it were, in the old barn. Six or seven times, ‘e did meet up wi’ I there. Then ‘e ‘ad to goo back to that old school of ‘is.”
Frances called the butler to come in. He was waiting outside, sure he would be needed.
“Who, Morton?”
“Master George Latimer, Your Ladyship, nephew to Sir Charles. Some sixteen years of age.”
Marriage was out of the question. The sole recourse was to arrange for a payment to the girl, five shillings a week would be normal, until the babe was grown and working for his or her own keep. The Latimers, however, made for a potential problem; they were unlikely to wish to act graciously.
“We will make sure there is a payment, Mrs Smithers. I do not think there is anything else to be done.”
It would be an utter waste of time to lay a charge of rape against the boy, even if it might be argued that consent had not been asked on the first occasion, and the girl’s age was irrelevant, there being no law referring to it.
“Mr Quillerson will pay you a pound every four weeks, my dear. He will get the money himself t
o save you having to go all the way to the Latimers and you can collect it from his office. You will be able to buy your own sticky buns then.”
The Smithers left and Frances made her way to Quillerson’s office, explained all to him.
“Not a chance that the Latimers would pay up, Your Ladyship. A waste of time even to speak to them about it – they would just call the girl a whore and threaten to bring her before the Bench to have her committed to the Bridewell.”
The Bridewell was the common name for the asylum for unfortunate young females which every county maintained, in theory at least, some shared. It was not quite a prison, but it was extremely difficult for any woman to leave it except to a ‘place of refuge’, which might be the employment of a well-meaning family but was much more likely to be a London brothel which had bribed the keeper. Fear of the Bridewell was common to every girl who was inclined to be careless.
“So, we must meet the cost ourselves, I presume. The child is little more than half-witted, cannot be taken from her home. Can we at least convey a message to young Master Latimer that he might confine his rides to his own lands?”
“Obliquely, yes, ma’am. I shall speak to the Latimers’ agent, when next I see him, probably at market on Thursday. He will pass the word to his employer, rumour that has come to his ears and which he believes to be only too well-founded, and the young gentleman will be reined in. I believe he is to join the Militia as an ensign and will be with them from the summer. They are posted to Yorkshire for the while so he will be out of our way for a year or two.”
“A pity that we must pay for his pleasures, even so.”
“We have a barge load a month of Irish guano coming in this year, the Latimers buying a couple of tons a month from us for the Model Farm they are creating. Over the year they will pay for the Baby Smithers, all unknowing.”
“Excellent, Mr Quillerson. I would not have wished them to escape the consequences of their depravity!”
Robert sat in the garden of the house outside Barnet, taking the air and watching his eldest son walking across the lawn to his mother, ball in hand, throwing mightily at a distance of two yards, pleased with himself when she caught it, shouting his delight.
“A strong lad! Well done, Patrick.”
The big, blond boy looked uncertainly at him, not too sure of this man who appeared occasionally, to his mother’s obvious pleasure.
“When shall I buy him a pony, Judy-love?”
“Let the boy get steady on his own feet first, Bobby-love!”
“You may be right, at that, thinking on it. Is all well with you, love? You look healthier out in the country air, not so pale as you were in Town.”
“It’s a dirty place, London, and happier I am to be out of it. I am well indeed, and glad to be in the house here. I had wondered, to be honest, whether I would like the life, out of a city, being used to New York and then to London, but I think I must be a country lass at heart. I am settled here, Bobby, and would like it if I could stay here all me life.”
“It is your house, my dear. The ownership is in a trust fund, because it makes it simpler in the firm’s books, and you have the right to live here till the day you die, and then the house goes into Patrick’s name, to do with as he wishes.”
“What if there should be another son or daughter, Bobby-love?”
“Another inheritance, they will not be left out. I am becoming rich in my own right, not just as father’s heir, from the banking. I am keeping that money separate from the family estate, to give myself independence from the entail. It gives my father leeway to provide for his second wife, as well. It surprises me, but I like her. I thought I would not, in the nature of things, but she is a pleasant lady. I shall see if I cannot arrange some way of getting her to pay a visit here, all on the quiet. I cannot ask my father to come because that would be to recognise you, and that could be seen as an insult to the Mostyns, but she would be a different matter.”
Judy was not so sure, but raised no objection if that was what he wanted.
“How long can you stay, Bobby?”
“No more than two days, I am afraid. There is an important meeting on Wednesday that I must not miss, so I must be off first thing to be in my office in time to refresh my memory on all of the detail.”
He told her no more, not because he distrusted her but to protect her from any accusation that she might have opened her mouth.
Five Dutch-Belgic gentlemen, from the newly cobbled together country of the Lowlands, men of uncertain loyalty to the House of Orange who were very unwilling to become indebted to Dutch banks and who were inclined to be indiscreet in explaining why.
“The cause, Mr Andrews, is that we do not expect to remain under the Dutch yoke for too many years.”
The speaker had been a major in the British army, had excellent English. He had had the misfortune to be commanded by the Prince of Orange during the Waterloo campaign and had developed an enduring contempt for the incompetent, inadequate butcher he had shown himself to be. All four of his companions had held commissions in Napoleon’s armies in the long wars, though two had found themselves allied to the British in the One Hundred Days, somewhat to their displeasure.
The tangle of their past loyalties was such that in common with most of their countrymen they had simply forgotten them, shelved them, put them to one side while they considered the creation of a future. They knew the issue would rise again, probably repeatedly, but they had more important things to deal with for the while.
“There are coal deposits in Flanders and the Walloon lands, Mr Andrews, and iron in plenty. The effect of the wars has been to raze most of the old workings and prevent the creation of new, to impoverish the land. We wish to rebuild, using the latest knowledge to come out of England. We must borrow and we have almost no security. Therefore we must exercise a degree of ingenuity. Of my business partners, three have holdings of land which they have retained title to, while the fourth, M. Foret, is owner of a merchant house in Dunkerque and has three new built trading ships.”
“You do not propose to offer the estates as security, in mortgage in effect?”
“Impossible, sir, both in law and in sentiment.”
“Then…”
“The English Corn laws make the importation of wheat expensive, but we have lands that will grow potatoes and turnips and will pasture herds of milch cattle. There is a tradition of making the best of cheeses. In addition there are distilleries that produce a very adequate gin. Now that your Royal Navy has no other occupation smuggling is being very rapidly brought to an end and the legitimate importation of liquor has become profitable.”
“The bank is hardly in a position to become a trader in foodstuffs and alcohol, sir.”
“We do not propose that it should, Mr Andrews. We propose two separate loans, one to be used in England to establish a merchant house here in London, the other, larger, to open coal mines in the first instance and then, as they become established, to build a substantial iron foundry.”
It seemed to be a possibility, but the demand for roots was higher in the new industrial areas than in London, Robert suspected. The market for gin was quite universal, of course.
They discussed the matter for an hour, long enough to establish that the partners had thought their proposition through, then adjourned until the end of the week while Robert consulted in the bank, and they no doubt visited some of his competitors.
They came back after three days, presumably having been unsuccessful elsewhere.
“I am sorry, gentlemen, but Mostyns cannot risk its capital on a wholly unsecured venture. The demand for loans is such that the house does not need to accept inordinate risk in order to make a living.”
They expected that answer, had heard it repeatedly.
“We came to Mostyns because of its connections to industry in England, Mr Andrews. There are only a few firms as great as Roberts in the whole of England, and we would hope to be associated in a minor way with them. The loan made to est
ablish a trading house could be secured to a great extent against the warehouse bought in England. The profits of the trade with England could be assigned to the payment of interest on both loans. It would be an early intention to assemble steamships to travel the Rhine, purchasing engines from the Roberts yard, then to build our own, in a partnership.”
“That is not impossible, gentlemen. The English trading house should not be located in London. My enquiries suggest that the Rivers Tees and Tyne have the industrial population, small yet but rapidly growing, to provide a market for imported foodstuffs. The price of land on the waterfronts there must inevitably be less than its equivalent in London. With the proviso that the trading house shall be free to purchase elsewhere, not solely from your estates, so that there may be a greater quantity passing through and a higher return on the investment, it should be possible to make funds available for that part of your proposal. Now, as regards the coal mining aspect, you have, of course, evidence of your possession in freehold of coal seams of the appropriate quality?”
Robert had sat in conference with James and Huskisson on the previous day, James having very little to say, the Minister explaining quite precisely the government’s view on the issue of the Dutch-Belgic state.
“Antwerp and the mouths of the Rhine, Mr Andrews, pose a potential threat to the Thames estuary, as was shown in the days of Charles the Second. English strategic interest demands that this whole area shall be in the power of a small and weak state. It is not impossible that an error was made in the creation of the current state, and there could be no overwhelming objection to its early dissolution, provided that the French-speaking areas become independent. There could be no possible toleration of the Belgian provinces becoming part of France. Provided your loans act to strengthen the French language areas in their independence then government will offer no objection. Should the possibility arise that the French might gain power in the region then there must be immediate foreclosure and legal injunctions made.”
Privilege Preserved (A Poor Man at the Gate Series Book 5) Page 19
