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.’