An Uncertain Peace (The Making of a Man Series, Book 3)

by Andrew Wareham

  “Agreed, Sir Richard, with the proviso that there must never be alliance between the Ottoman and Russia. The Bosphorus must never be opened to Russian ships of war and their merchant ships are to be discouraged. We do not want Russia in the Mediterranean, particularly if this canal to the Red Sea should eventuate.”

  Dick had not heard of the French plans for Suez, listened in fascination as they were outlined and it was pointed out that the voyage to India would be halved in length, possibly reduced eventually to a bare six weeks from its original half of a year.

  “Why are we permitting the French to have control of the new canal, Captain Tarleton?”

  “An excellent question, Sir Richard.”

  Book Three: The Making

  of a Man Series

  Chapter Seven

  Dick leaned on the rail of the Cunarder, enjoying the sensation of speed through the almost calm sea. The two funnels churned out thick brown coal smoke and there was a smell of sulphur and he knew that there would be black smuts on his face, but the great ship was racing through the ocean at more than twelve knots, a speed hardly dreamed of for a merchant vessel even ten years before. The huge paddle-wheels thrashed noisily, drowning his conversation with Captain Tarleton; they could not be overheard by any other passenger.

  “I thought it better to say little about Prussia and the German Federation at table last night, Sir Richard. The Prussian gentleman is well connected in Berlin, possibly very close to Bismarck’s office, and it is as well to display tact in our dealings with him. Major Hewitt tells me that you have worked for the English offices in both Liverpool and America, Sir Richard, and that you may well be called upon in the immediate future.”

  “I am at Major Hewitt’s command, Captain Tarleton, as he knows. I am able to be of assistance in a voluntary capacity, having business interests that provide me with a sufficient income for all of my needs.”

  Tarleton tried not to let his envy show; he was a younger son and a Guards officer. The expenses of a Guardee were always greater than his pay and every one of their officers was dependant wholly on his private income; the Brigade in fact refused to accept any man who could not demonstrate a sufficiency of wealth to keep his end up. Tarleton had inherited nothing, both parents still alive, and so relied on the allowance his father chose to make him, which was conditional on the old gentleman remaining satisfied with his conduct. He was in many ways as subservient as any schoolboy, forced to obey his father’s whims. The Marquis had demanded that he should ‘assist’ Major Hewitt and so he had taken absence on half-pay to report on the conflict in America. His colonel had not been too pleased at his prolonged furlough, as it seemed to him, and had been dismayed that he should actually ‘work’, for a newspaper, of all things, and probably would not invite him to purchase his majority for several years yet. If he refused his father’s commands, he would lose his income and be forced to sell out of the Guards; if he did as he was told then his career in the Guards would be much affected. It was not easy, he thought, being a younger son of the aristocracy.

  Dick was wholly unaware of Tarleton’s problems, regarded him as no more than another aristocrat dabbling in the intelligence game for his own amusement.

  “We all serve as we can, Sir Richard. Major Hewitt had asked me to make contact with you, if conveniently possible, and discuss the affairs of Northern Europe with you, if you were interested.”

  “I am always interested to be of service to Major Hewitt.”

  “I am sure he will be delighted to know that, Sir Richard. Briefly, sir, the Prussians have solved the vexed question of Schleswig and Holstein, by in effect annexing them. A second war with Denmark last year took the Duchies from Danish control but, rather unfortunately, placed them under joint Prussian and Austrian administration.”

  “Why?”

  “A number of reasons, but primarily because the Austrians demanded recognition in the area. They still have some idea of the mystic Holy Roman Empire, it seems, and believe that they should be recognised as the leader of the Germanic peoples. Add to that, they are frightened of the power of Prussia.”

  “How do the two nations work together?”

  “Very badly, Major Hewitt tells me, Sir Richard. There is unending friction between them and they are now very close to war as a result. Bismarck, I believe, welcomes the possibility. He wishes to unite the German states and is convinced that only war can create the union he envisages. The industrial states of the Rhine and Ruhr are a prime concern for they will provide the basis of a modern armaments industry. I believe, by the way, that the count has been talking to the Union Army and the Navy and has accessed much interesting information about modern weaponry and its uses in warfare, all of which will come in handy when the Prussians are able to control the mills and factories of Saxony.”

  “The breech-loading rifle and the Gatling gun spring to mind. The Dahlgren guns are very good, but there are similar cannon elsewhere, I know. The use of trenches by the foot soldier is obvious enough, I would think.”

  “The Prussians have a breech-loader, the needle gun, of their own already, Sir Richard.”

  “Effective?”

  “Good enough, I would say. I think they are more worried about their artillery.”

  “I thought I had heard that they were in the way of producing cast-steel guns, breech-loading at that.”

  “Krupps make them, the most modern of cannon. The Austrians prefer bronze muzzle-loaders and the British are worried that the breech mechanism is unreliable. The Prussians much wanted to discover American experience in a long war. If the breech mechanism is subject to excessive wear, then the Civil War would provide examples.”

  It made sense, Dick accepted. He was puzzled though that the Austrians should still use guns of the Napoleonic era.

  Tarleton was dismissive of the Austrians – they were part of the past, irrelevant.

  “Austria has no steel plants. Their industry is far too undeveloped for such things and the army will not press their government to subsidise a national armaments company. They are primitives, of course – blue blood is their sole criterion. An inventor has developed a wonderful new cannon? Is he properly born? Were his ancestors down to the great-great-grandparents noble? No? Then his invention cannot be worth looking at – it will be flawed by the inadequacy of the man himself. As for bronze guns – well, it is obvious why the army must continue to use them, the nation needs bronze foundries.”

  “Why?”

  “My dear Sir Richard! How will life size statues of the Emperor be cast otherwise? How will there be new bells for the churches? Casting cannon will keep the smiths busy during those times when they have nothing better to do!”

  “Then their empire is doomed, Captain Tarleton. Perhaps they are lucky in their enemies – the Russians are, from all I have heard, equally primitive and the Turks even more so. They are very foolish if they believe that the Prussians, or the French perhaps, are of the same calibre.”

  “Again, Sir Richard, you are at fault. They do not believe at all; they know that Austria is intellectually, artistically and morally superior to every other state. Such being the case, they must be masters of war.”

  “I could feel rather sad for them, Captain Tarleton. What will they do when they are defeated?”

  “First they will deny the fact; having been forced to admit defeat then they will blame it on traitors, who will be tried and disgraced.”

  “You are in fact saying that their sole intention will be to deny the reality of defeat? What will they do to prevent the same occurring again?”

  “Nothing, of course, Sir Richard. They have a perfect Empire. It is superior. It cannot be improved upon. Those are incontrovertible facts. Such being the case they must persevere in their present course – there is nothing else to be done. They will make a few alterations in some policies, perhaps, but not too many. They may possibly move to breech-loading rifles and steel cannon, all to their own design, by properly born ‘engineers’, but they
will not permit the appointment of leaders by merit, or the training of officers in gunnery, for example.”

  “No officers to their artillery? How will that work?”

  “You misunderstand me, Sir Richard. There will be a full complement of officers, all performing the tasks of the officer class. They will pose nobly and give the command to fire. The business of aiming the guns and calculating elevation and trajectory, for example, is for the mechanics to deal with; a lieutenant or captain has no business with sums and logarithms and suchlike.”

  “Hopeless!”

  “Of course. They are not worthy of our attention, being entirely incompetent. We shall not, for the same reason, observe the Russians or the Turk, but we would hope to send experienced officers to march with the Prussian army in the field.”

  “I have no German.”

  “No doubt you will learn, Sir Richard. In fact, you will not be asked to serve for two or three years, in all probabilities. The war with Austria may well have started already and I much suspect that you will not be called upon until the following conflict, against either France or Russia.”

  Dick was not at all sure that he wished to be called at all as an observer of other countries’ battles; any fool could do that, they could even send cavalry officers for the purpose. He would give this particular form of service long thought before he committed himself to it.

  The extra breadth of beam conveyed by paddle-wheels made the ship particularly stable in all except the worst of gales, and the captain was under strict orders to avoid North Atlantic storms if at all possible. It was not unknown for a Cunarder to reach as far south as Cork, offloading her passengers there to the railway and then the Irish Sea ferries; it was necessary to fill her bunkers before she sailed again, and coaling could not be done with passengers aboard, the clouds of coal dust quite intolerable. On this occasion Scotia made Liverpool in her twelve days and set her passengers down with never a case of mal de mer between them; it was noted that the First Class did not lower itself to sea-sickness.

  They took their final decision on their immediate destination in the Irish Sea, almost in sight of the Lancashire coast.

  “A few days in Liverpool, Louise, or will you wish to go immediately to Burkes?”

  “Directly to Burkes, if you will, Sir Richard. I rather doubt that I wish to unpack here in Liverpool only to have to fill the trunks again next week. It is not that I do the work, of course, but it is so inconvenient that I would much prefer not to do it at all.”

  “The London train then. I will inform the Purser.”

  The decision taken, there was nothing for them to do other than to wander down the gangway and walk through the Customs Shed behind their porters and then mount the waiting Boat Train; if the Customs Officers should prove importunate then Plaistow would deal with them. The Purser had wired for hotel rooms overnight in London as well as arranging their tickets for the next morning. All was as it should be, for a wealthy and titled young couple.

  “I am, I think, glad to be back in England, Sir Richard. America has much to be said for it, but it is not my own country, I fear. It does not look quite the same and the appearance of the people is somehow different, which is very strange as the fashion of clothing is really almost identical.”

  “Size, perhaps, my dear. I do believe that the Americans run a little taller and are somewhat more heavily built than the English. A diet of burned beef must be good for them, surprising though that may seem.”

  “One must not forget the ubiquitous bean, Sir Richard!”

  “Very true, ma’am! Though I must say I shall be very happy to have the opportunity to do so. I have eaten this year’s ration of beans, I believe, and shall be quite pleased if my plate remains empty of them for the next many months!”

  The faster express trains of England were another obvious difference between the two countries. They reached London in late afternoon of a spring day; it was raining.

  “Wet and drab – but paved!”

  The streets outside the station were neither flooded nor swamped in mud, which made a very pleasant change from the bulk of American towns they had seen. They were crowded and the traffic crawled so that the two miles to their hotel, conveniently close to Waterloo station for the morning, took more than an hour to traverse.

  “Had it not been raining then the smell would have been far worse, my dear. We must count our blessings.”

  Dorset was enjoying its spring, was dry and sunny, and obviously very poor. Even Louise was able to see that the farms were less prosperous than most of those in the States; they were smaller as well.

  “Why, Sir Richard? Why are American farmers more prosperous than ours?”

  “In part because we have too many people trying to take a living from too little land, I suspect. To an extent because our people are growing the wrong crops. This is not ideal country for grain, for example. They should be producing milk and cheese for the nursery; cabbages and, dare I say the word, beans for the dinner plate; bacon and hams for breakfast; potatoes and parsnips and swedes for the stew pot; lettuces and cucumbers and radishes and strawberries for the genteel tea table. Instead they insist upon wheat for the flour mills, at a price which hardly pays their labourers’ wages, low though they are. They are masters of their own fate, as may be said for every man, and they choose – through ignorance and stupidity – to be poor. I have no patience with them!”

  “But farmers have always grown wheat, sir!”

  “So they have, my dear. Is it so utterly impossible to change? Cloth was always made by spinning wheel and hand loom, but now it is produced by machines in the mills. Iron was forged slowly by the local smith in hundredweights; now it comes from the blast furnaces by the tens of thousands of tons. Why must farmers alone of all folk be unaffected by the modern ways of doing things?”

  “The countryside is different, Sir Richard. Here we still have Old England!”

  “And you still have the old poverty, except when they can steal the tax revenues produced by industry!”

  She could not regard the process of subsidy as theft – surely the industrial people must be glad to preserve the way of life of the farmers at so slight a cost to them.

  Dick laughed – while he lived in the backwoods then he supposed he must accept their way of thought. Something for nothing was the agricultural way, it seemed. It did not matter, too much.

  The Purser of the Scotia had been very efficient, sending a telegraph message to Burkes to warn them that their master was to return. The house was bustling, servants busy and kitchen fully staffed, Briggs opening the doors as their carriage drew up and gravely welcoming them home.

  “It is a pleasure to be back, Briggs. Is all well?”

  “All has progressed in the most proper fashion, Sir Richard.”

  “Very good! You will have noticed the need to establish the nursery, I have no doubt.”

  “That shall be placed in hand, Sir Richard. I shall confer with the Housekeeper. Nurse and nursery maid and an extra kitchen girl can be discovered very easily.”

  “Of course. Would you be so good as well as to locate a chef for the kitchens, Briggs? I think it might be well to employ a gentleman from France, or Austria even, to grace our ranges and stoves.”

  It could be done, though it might take a little while to achieve – French chefs did not, regrettably, grow on trees, were in fact very thin on the ground in Dorset. A letter to the appropriate people in London would be necessary.

  “It will, of course, Sir Richard, be not inexpensive to persuade a man of skill and ability to immerse himself in the rural depths, far from Town.”

  “Pay what is needed, Briggs. My lady has discovered good food while we have been away, and I believe it not inappropriate to indulge her so far. We shall entertain, I suspect, and cause great envy among the County.”

  “There is much to be said for having a good reputation for one’s dinners, Sir Richard.”

  “There is indeed, Briggs. What of the neigh
bourhood? Is all well?”

  “Within reason, sir, yes. There was an outbreak of scarlet fever in the villages over the winter which resulted in a number of deaths, but that is not too uncommon an event, after all. My lady’s family has flourished but there are rumours of financial difficulties affecting some of the neighbourhood.”

  That was inevitable, Dick felt. The Land no longer provided wealth and the squirearchy, dependent on rents for their existence, must occasionally find themselves in debt.

  “Mr Meridew, sir, is experiencing a number of problems, due, it is said, to the unwisdom of his son.”

  “That was the case last year, of course, Briggs, when we purchased the land for the park from him. I gave Mr Meridew unpalatable advice then and it would seem that he has chosen to ignore it. Is he in bankruptcy? Has he been forced to put more land on the market?”

  “I believe that he has reached that extreme, sir.”

  “Foolish of him. I do not believe that we would wish to buy him out, Briggs. I am not to be burdened with an old-fashioned estate, no doubt badly kept up and needing many thousands poured into it.”

  “He has made enquiry of your whereabouts, Sir Richard, you being the only man of the locality known to have cash to hand. He would prefer to make a private sale to you, at a reasonable price, than take the risk of a public auction where there may be few buyers and a very low knock-down as a result.”

  “But I do not want to become the owner of run-down farms, Briggs! There is no profit in agriculture, and no future prospects of improvement. I have just come back from America, Briggs, and I know that there will be millions of tons of wheat produced every year and hundreds of thousands of beef cattle and hogs going into the meat packers of Chicago. Every family in England will be eating from America before a decade has passed – there is no hope for farming in this country, or not without great and unpopular change.”