Knowles was uncertain, shook his head discouragingly.
“One can, Lady Andrews, but not, perhaps, dressed too finely. Smoke, smuts, ash and the occasional hot cinder are all to be discovered in the vicinity of our stack, and the vagaries of the sea winds can often bring the vapours swirling about the deck, to the detriment of the clothes of the exposed. To be blunt, ma’am, one may be fashionably well-presented when one enters upon the deck, but one will not be when leaving it again!”
“A pity, a little of fresh air would have been welcome. Can I at least view the engine, from a distance, perhaps?”
That could be arranged, a cloak draped about her and stood in the companionway, peering down into a fiery but dark hell-hole. She could see moving pistons, the flare and blast of heat as the stokers opened the fire-box, the engineer stood on a low iron platform in view of his gauge and looking over the whole space. The noise - a dozen different noises all clattering and banging against each other - made it impossible to speak.
“How do they work in that, Mr Knowles?”
They had returned to the saloon after a very few minutes.
“Four hours, each watch, on and off, as is normal at sea, but the ferries do not run at night and in effect they work two watches one day and one, or one and a half, the next. They sleep at home all night, unlike the existence at sea where the watches continue unbroken, and mostly live very close to the wharfside. There is talk of building a docks, with basins and warehouses and such, and that will force them a half mile or so further away, but still only a short walk. They tell me that the ferries are a delight to work on, from the seaman’s point of view, and the steam men are masters of their new world, and so full of themselves that they make nothing of the heat and the din. The engineers walk into their pub of an evening and men already there make way for them, stand up from their favourite table and often compete to buy them a pint – they are the great men of the town, ma’am!”
It was a new world, and the people who lived in it were strangers to her. She could see the possibility that within a few years the country would be divided into new-fashioned and old-fangled, industrial and agricultural, urban and rural, the one with nothing to say to the other. If the politicians all came from the one side of the line, the wealth-makers from the other, then the country would split apart, fall into ‘Us’ and ‘Them’ – a recipe for civil war, not necessarily with guns and bombs, but certainly in the minds of the masses.
“The seeds of our own destruction, Thomas. I think, my dear, that it would be well for the family if we were to be very careful that some part of our funds was always to be invested overseas. We should buy land in the States and Canada, possibly even in Botany Bay, and put money into coal and iron in the New World as well. It seems not impossible, Thomas, that just as we are the first country to build the new industry, so we will be the earliest to discover its drawbacks. Other lands may perhaps learn from our errors, may take the gains and lessen the losses, but I think it will be well not keep all of our eggs in the one basket.”
She tried to explain her unease but was unable to wholly convince herself; she felt, logically or not, that the old sense of unity was being lost, while not being certain that it had ever truly existed.
The Payntons were, as ever, glad to be rescued from their solitude in the midst of the barbarians.
“A month is a long time to be bereft of civilised conversation, Lord Andrews. I wonder just what I did to be punished so? One must, of course, endeavour to see the best in everything, and if one is doomed to spend a time in Purgatory after death then I am sure my sentence will be lessened by this premature experience!”
Tom smiled, because it was obviously a witty sally, but he was not at all sure what Purgatory might be so his appreciation was limited.
“Did I see evidence of a new enclosure in process on the road up from Poole, my lord?”
“There are still several in completion in Dorset, my lord. Enclosure came late here – the whole county is behind the fair in fact. The people are displeased – which is hardly surprising, for the old wartime remedies are lost to them – they cannot go to the army or navy as was used to be the case, must go foreign with no prospect ever of returning instead.”
“There will be work in plenty in the North Country, if they can get there or find out where it is.”
Without money, forced to walk, Newcastle was as far away as New York, possibly in fact would take a longer journey as America could always be reached in six weeks or less of sailing.
“Are there emigrant ships?”
“A dozen have sailed from Poole this year, and many more from Bristol – how many, I do not know, for there is no office to count them. Mostly to the States, fewer to Canada; one or two have gone to the Cape; there is a rumour of land being made available to free settlers in the Antipodes, but again, I know not. The better landlords have been putting their people to the ships; the worse, as always, have been kicking them out onto the roads.”
“Fifty years of busy enclosure activity in Lowland England, and still there are proprietors who will not learn, who seem determined to create revolution!”
“’We must be tender of the Rights of Property’, my lord – their watchword has never changed, and the judges still uphold them.”
“And what of the Rights of Man, Lord Paynton?”
Paynton glanced about to be sure he could not be overheard, smiled resignedly as he saw his son bearing down upon him.
“There is a short and uncouth naval expression, my lord, that expresses the feelings of the judges rather well – but it is not apt to a withdrawing room. Shall we just say that the Rights of Man are not the preserve of the wealthy whilst the Rights of Property are.”
“And judges exist as arbiters of laws made by the rich, for the rich – and to a judge, the letter of the law is the sole concern. That it may be a wholly unjust, tyrannical law is merest irrelevance.”
Tom snorted, commented that ‘judge’ and ‘justice’ were not words that sat well together.
“I hear that Peel is to abolish the death penalty for more than one hundred crimes, by the way,” Paynton said.
“Leaving only five hundred hanging offences in the book. A measure of our civilisation, perhaps, my lord. Can order be kept in no other way?”
“Ours is a turbulent country, one to which order is alien. The Militia and the cat and the noose seem to be the best that we can discover, though the end of smuggling has done a lot of good in the countryside.”
The old gangs, some of which had perpetuated themselves for almost a century, had simply disappeared as the illicit cargoes had been swept off the sea by a large and busy navy with no other prey to hunt. The gang lords had held power in the coastal areas, often to the extent of being known figures who could not be touched by the authorities; now, suddenly, they were gone, a few to the gallows they had long avoided, the bulk into, it was presumed, genteel retirement. Their money had gone with them and farm labourers who had come to rely on two or three half-crowns a month for nights of illicit work on the beaches found themselves wholly without beer money and given yet another grievance.
Gervase Drew reached their side and extended his ponderous greetings, apologising that he had been with the bailiff and so had not been present when the visitors had arrived.
“May I say that you are looking far more the thing, Lord Andrews? You seem to have recovered from the dastardly attack, sir. I am very pleased!”
Tom made the correct response, discovering that, now that he thought about it, he did feel a lot better.
“And you, sister! You seem very well, flourishing, indeed!”
“And at my age, too! Thank you, Gervase! I trust we find you and yours well?”
They did, as he explained at length, his wife and sons all very healthy, no doubt because of their country existence – ruralising it might be, but there was much to be said for bringing up children away from the pernicious atmospheres of the towns.
It was annoying t
o admit it, but for once he might well be right.
“Do we have promise of a good harvest, brother?”
“The barley is in and has shown a very respectable tonnage, and we have hopes for the wheat. We shall cut next week and there seems every prospect of good weather, the wind set in the east, a little colder than one might desire, but invariably dry. Beans, peas and turnips have done well this year, and the hay cut was within reason satisfactory. It may well be the case that this will be one of the best years yet this century.”
That was pleasing news – a good harvest benefitted the whole country.
“Lord Andrews, is there anything you can tell me of this dreadful business of the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs? You were in Town when the event occurred.”
“I was, and partook of some of the arrangements that were made before and after his unfortunate death.”
Lord Paynton, who had heard some of the rumours, raised an eyebrow; Tom nodded, implying that he would tell him all, later. For the while, Gervase Drew was not his choice of a man to keep damaging information to himself – he would undoubtedly wish to seem important amongst his local acquaintance, assuming, of course, that such existed.
“Lord Castlereagh showed signs of derangement, Mr Drew, but it was felt, erroneously, that there was time to persuade him to shed some or all of the burden of work that was breaking his mind. I and some others were sadly mistaken, did not realise just how far gone the poor man was. But, of course, we had no power to coerce him, and he showed only mildly unwell in his manner – he was not a raving lunatic like the old king.”
Lord Paynton took Tom on a tour of the estate while Gervase was busy again with the long-suffering bailiff, received a true account of the events.
“All tidied up, I presume, my lord?”
“The scandal has been buried with him, and I see no reason to suppose it will ever be fully exhumed. The extortionists are all, without exception, dead - mostly in unmarked graves, I am told. The victims have been disposed of more humanely and I believe them to be mostly on their way to the Cape – the climate salubrious and control quite easy because there is only one port. Apparently the Cape is a favoured location for the exile of the embarrassing – I heard some mention of the old king’s youthful indiscretions being kept in some comfort there.”
“Hannah Lightfoot and the FitzGeorges? I believe so, though that was very well hidden away from general view. Small wonder that the poor old fellow was driven mad, you know, assuming that it was not hereditary, which one may wonder about when one observes his sons. A poor set of princes, when all is said and done, and remarkably short of legitimate offspring, which may not be too bad a thing. Just the one girl, what is she, three years old?”
“Too young to know whether she has escaped the taint, Lord Paynton. What’s to be done if she shows mad?”
“There are some Prussian princes, related back to George the First, and a selection can be made if the need arises – a youth of some, but not too much, intelligence will be picked out, with the agreement of their government and ours. Prussia will have no desire to see England become a republic and will cooperate. Russia and Austria would as well, but religion would be a problem; the Spanish might volunteer, but their royal house is cram-packed full of loonies so they are out. France is impossible, obviously. The Dutch would volunteer, have already tried to do so, but who wants Slender Billy?”
“The army would not be pleased after his performance at Waterloo – I believe that the Duke has privately damned his eyes in comprehensive fashion.”
Paynton had not heard that, but was not surprised – the Prince of Orange was believed by those in the know to have killed the better part of six thousand allied soldiers at the battle, all dying as a result of his arrogant stupidity and refusal to be corrected.
“Have you heard of any other candidates, Lord Paynton?”
“The Danes do not love England after our handling of them in the war. The Swedes are a poor lot – Bernadotte is not an English favourite. The Portuguese royal family is madder than ours. The rest of the lesser German states probably could come up with a dozen of Archdukes and assorted princelings, any of whom would do at a pinch, but most of them expect to have a degree of political power, and that ain’t going to happen!”
“Has Liverpool the strength to stand against the Crown? What if our present king should wish to be involved in the selection of an heir to the throne? The Duke of York is none too well; Clarence is stupid; the young girl may not survive to adulthood, and may be incapable for all we know. Five years from now the question may be of some urgency.”
Paynton was not close enough to the workings of the innermost power-brokers; he did not know.
“I spoke with Viscount Hawker last week, and he was not sure what might come to pass, but he was quite certain that power was never to be returned to the hands of a king, or a queen for that matter. The real question is of how much influence they might come to possess, and that may well depend on the individual, and on the character of the Prime Minister of the day.”
Canning was almost certain to succeed Liverpool, but would not last for too many years, he was getting old. After that, who could tell? Wellington must be of importance and could be guaranteed to lend a Prime Minister backbone if the commodity was in short supply, so probably it did not matter too much.
“What of Peel?”
“A very good question, my lord.”
They laughed, neither having a liking for the intelligent but shallow and overtly ambitious young gentleman.
“The Whigs?”
Paynton shrugged – as far as he was concerned they were much the same as the Tories, possibly inclining a little more towards intelligence and less given to view the ability to read and write as morally enfeebling, but essentially members of the landed order.
“They have these silly Radicals, but they do not permit them influence in their counsels. They will certainly not tolerate any access of Royal power – even when they courted Prinny they did not let him dictate to them. The sole problem is that the current King is becoming visible to the mob, and they like the sight of him for some reason, and that does give him a little more strength – not actual power, but the ability perhaps to indicate that he does not wish a certain gentleman to become a Minister – though I much doubt that he has the ability to state who he would prefer.”
“It was easier when the king was mad.”
They agreed on that – the politicians had gained much from the royal incapacity and were unlikely to give up their new power. It would take a very strong personality to re-establish a real monarchy.
“I presume you will visit the Burleys again, my lord?”
“I intend to. Is all well with them, do you know?”
“Two children, as you probably know, the baby said to be flourishing, the little boy strong. Barely a year between them. I presume they may wish for a delay before a third comes along. A problem arising in the area, though, due to the very low wages prevailing in local farms. There happens to be an active chapel with a busy Sunday School and very many of the labourers can read, and, needless to say, have been exposed to some of the more pernicious political doctrines as a result. There have been meetings, seditious in their nature, Gervase tells me – he wishes to suppress them.”
It seemed typical of Gervase that he should respond with unthinking authoritarianism – he would be convinced that he knew better than any of the lower order of people, his position lending him wisdom, no doubt.
“Are there many ex-soldiers on the farms?”
“Too many! And sailors as well, warrant officers amongst them. Several young men of ability were pressed soon after the war restarted in the Year Three – I understand that there was a celebration, a birthday party involving a dozen or so of youngsters who had attended the one day-school, them getting together at one of the more respectable inns in Poole and then making their way outside drunk to see what the fuss was in the street.”
“And their
ship had sailed before their parents became aware of their plight and could force their release?”
“The old story – it was unlawful to press any man who had not used the sea, and the Imprest Service was obliged to hold its victims in a Receiving Ship for a week or two so that action at law could be taken, if appropriate. But where the press gang was sent ashore from a particular ship, then there was no such delay and they would typically be off on the next tide.”
“So, a dozen or so of able young men taken away, some of them surviving and making the best of their situation, knuckling down to it and achieving promotion, eventually returning as somewhat older men with the habit of command and a deal of bitterness in them.”
“Only three came back,” Paynton said. “Some died; some deserted in a group on the American station; one became a master’s mate in a small ship and then very quickly rose in successive actions to lieutenant and eventually post-captain – he is still employed at sea, I believe.”
The three who returned it seemed had found it difficult to settle down – they had been at sea during the years when they would have learnt a profession or trade, had little to offer on land. One had gone back to sea in the merchant service; one had rapidly hanged, caught red-handed in a highway robbery; the third eked out a living as an usher in the day-school, and taught on Sundays, and was generally credited with the spread of the pernicious doctrines of equality and democracy.
“Have you tried to persuade Gervase to open another school and put this man in as Head Teacher? A larger salary, enough to marry on, and much more work to keep him busy would soon cure his tendencies toward revolution!”
“Gervase would sooner hang him. As for another school, and more literate young men – he believes there to be too many of them already!”
“I wonder…”
Paynton did not ask Tom what he wondered, probably preferring to be able to profess ignorance to his son.
“Captain Burley, I trust I find you well, sir?”
“You do indeed, my lord, and I see that I can say the same of you – far better than you seemed last year, sir.”
The Old Order (A Poor Man at the Gate Series Book 7) Page 17
