Dark Rosaleen (15 page)

‘I can tell you candidly,’ replied the Lord Chancellor, ‘no such policy is intended, Mr. Ogilvie. If you have, or think you have, any friends among the malcontents, tell them so. Lord Campden has been instructed to put down all insurrection by force of arms — in case of trouble we shall have over as many soldiers as England can spare — the Hessians — Sir Ralph Abercrombie and Sir John Moore are already spoken of to lead ’em.’

‘You do want to make slaves of the Irishmen or to exterminate them — as they themselves realise.’

Castlereagh raised his fair head; under his pleasant, almost indolent manner, such a flame of energy and resolution, such a steady purpose, so unmovable a courage flashed, that the Scot felt himself suddenly futile and foolish before a force that nothing could check.

‘I suppose, sir,’ said the Secretary for Ireland, ‘you have imbibed a good amount of Jacobin sentiment at Leinster House. How much folly is talked on the subject of liberty and tyranny! I suppose Mr. Pitt may be allowed to be as good a patriot as, say Mr. Wolfe Tone? Pitt’s concern is England. It is mine. We are in the midst of a dangerous war. We intend to survive it, and with undiminished prestige. That is, plainly, our business. We have no other. We do not mean to see the French anarchy that the Jacobins copy introduced in Britain. You mentioned that I was a reformer, I am so still. But one does not talk of reform in the midst of war, treason, revolt. I press for a Union with England — for what reform you will, but — in time of peace.’

‘Good God, my Lord!’ exclaimed Mr. Ogilvie. ‘What peace do you expect from the methods you employ?’

‘Quite a sound one,’ replied Castlereagh severely. ‘If I can root out the United Irishmen and all their works, I dare say Ireland will be quiet for another hundred years.’

‘Lord Castlereagh, I profoundly disagree with you — the cruelties, the injustice, the misery —’

Clare interrupted the Scot, who was deeply moved:

‘You would expect us, Mr. Ogilvie,’ he smiled grimly, ‘to be at least as loyal to our duties as these misguided wretches are to what they consider theirs? We can have no mercy with traitors, with conspirators, and, as I think, assassins.’

‘No, no, my Lord!’ exclaimed Mr. Ogilvie, ‘that is going too far! You have mentioned Lord Edward Fitzgerald and other gentlemen of repute, and then you speak of assassins!’

‘There may be such in the ranks of the United Irishmen.
The
Union
Star
, I think you would call that an assassination journal. It advocates all manner of violence. You can see it for yourself posted on the walls any day in Dublin.’

‘Aye,’ retorted the other, with his hand on the doorknob, ‘it is common talk in Dublin that the wretched editor of that so-called assassination journal is protected by the Castle.’

‘Where did you hear that?’ asked Castlereagh quickly. ‘It is a most insolent libel.’

‘It is also a strange thing, my Lord, that this paper is allowed to appear when many more respectable journals are suppressed, and that the editor of it comes and goes in peace, though his whereabouts must be well known at the Castle. The Irish are a quick-witted people, my Lord, and they have supposed that this journal is allowed to be published to discredit them, to give a handle to the cry that they are murdering cut-throats.’

Castlereagh did not deign to reply to this. He said gently, yet briefly: ‘Please repeat to Lord Edward Fitzgerald this conversation — if you have any friendship for him.’

CHAPTER 2

Mr. Ogilvie went directly to Lord Fitzgerald’s lodgings; he was considerably alarmed, the more so as Fitzgerald had for the last few weeks kept out of his way and that of most of his friends, seldom seen at Leinster House, never at the Castle or in vice-regal circles, and seemed indeed to have so cut himself off from society that he might be considered in a manner hidden, coming and going between Dublin and unknown destinations in the country, appearing for a little while at the house of a friend and then going again. Since his journey to Hamburg he had kept very removed from his family, and Mr. Ogilvie knew that they were deeply anxious on his behalf. He had himself of late several times endeavoured to see his stepson, who was always, however, abroad; and from Pamela he had been able to glean nothing save that she herself lived in scarce concealed agitation.

But this time as he paused on the step of the house, his hand on the bell, Lord Edward himself came out. The old Scotsman had him at once by the arm. ‘You’ll not escape me this time, Neddy! I have no doubt you don’t wish to see me, but I must speak to you.’

A look of apprehension crossed the young man’s face. It was a wild night, and the wind swept round the two men, blowing at their coats and scarves and their hair.

‘Is it really important?’ asked Fitzgerald, grasping his step-father’s hand warmly, ‘for I have an appointment in half an hour.’

‘I fear, my Lord, it is indeed important; for your family’s sake, permit me to see you.’

Lord Edward’s dark eyes continued to search the Scotsman’s face as if he hoped to read something there.

‘Come into the house, of course,’ he murmured in a distracted manner, and led Mr. Ogilvie into a small front parlour where a low fire smouldered. He lit two candles and set them on the table, then flung off his hat, but did not remove his cloak, and remained standing by the table in the attitude of one who has been checked in a hasty errand. He asked Mr. Ogilvie to tell him his news.

‘It is just this, sir,’ said the Scotsman, lowering his voice. ‘Nay, Neddy,’ he dropped into more familiar address of childhood, ‘is it safe to speak here?’

‘It is my own house, sir.’

‘Yes, I know, but I am terrified even here. Well, then, come close and let me whisper it. Clare sent for me to-day — I went at once as you may imagine; Castlereagh was there.’

‘Two enemies of Ireland,’ said Fitzgerald, still keeping his eyes on Mr. Ogilvie’s face.

‘Two friends of yours though, Edward; they warned me.’

‘Of what?’

‘I expect you know; I don’t want to go into it. I don’t altogether like them nor admire their policy, but I must say they behaved in a humane and gentlemanly manner.’

‘Why did they speak to you?’ asked Fitzgerald, still staring across the small flare of the newly lit candles.

‘I don’t know. I suppose they thought I was sufficiently tactful — it seems they don’t want to disturb Leinster or your other brothers.’

‘What do they suspect?’ muttered Fitzgerald, frowning.

‘That’s not our concern, Edward, my dear fellow, they gave me a distinct warning for you. Clare said you were to get out of the country as soon as possible. There is talk of a French fleet leaving the French coast for Ireland.’

‘Well, there’s nothing in that,’ said Fitzgerald; ‘there’s rumours of that in all the prints.’

‘Maybe, but these two seem to have certain knowledge. They talk of Hoche being on board and Wolfe Tone, and of there being a descent planned on Bantry Bay. They said there were two large military forces coming from England under Abercrombie and Moore, and that Campden had full and secret powers; that there would soon be military law in Ireland.’

‘Ah, well,’ sighed Fitzgerald in a troubled whisper, ‘that might have been expected. That is only what one looked for.’

Mr. Ogilvie held up his hand. ‘Don’t say a word to me, Edward; confide nothing in me; be as circumspect as if you were before your greatest enemy — I won’t hear a word. I said I knew nothing of your affairs — I swore it.’

‘Well, it was true enough, and you’re right, I won’t speak before you, my secrets are not my own.’

‘I mustn’t even know that you have secrets, Edward. I just wish to give you the warning of these two men. Won’t you listen to it?’

‘How much do they know?’

‘Too much for your comfort and safety! Naturally I had to be guarded, and plead even a blanker ignorance than I possess, but it seems that they have all the details of a secret society — the United Irishmen.’

‘Impossible!’

‘Edward, I entreat you to be prudent. Do not let me even know that there is such a society and much less that you belong to it.’

‘Well, then,’ said Lord Edward, smiling, yet with a certain wildness in his looks, ‘there’s no more to be said, my dear sir. I thank you for your kindly love, and now you must let me go my way, I shall be late.’ He pulled out his watch and gazed at it anxiously. ‘I understand quite well. Clare and Castlereagh have warned you that I may be possibly a rebel, a dangerous one.’

‘They think that you and your friends are in league with this French fleet, that you went to Hamburg to arrange this invasion. Edward, did you meet a woman the last stage of the journey to Hamburg? Did she travel in the coach with you?’

‘Yes, yes, I recollect I did — a poor creature in mourning.’

‘She was one of Pitt’s spies,’ said Mr. Ogilvie grimly. ‘She found out who you were. She wrote a report of it to England. You must have been very imprudent, Edward.’

Fitzgerald blushed with amazement and shame.

‘But I told the creature nothing. And a spy! It seems impossible.’

Mr. Ogilvie sighed.

‘You were always too ingenuous and credulous, Edward. Maybe you told her nothing, but you allowed her to infer a great deal. In brief, she guessed much, and sent her surmises to England. You’ve been watched and spied on, my poor boy.’

‘Spied on!’ said Edward, looking at Mr. Ogilvie with an increasing bewilderment. ‘How is that possible? I mingle with none but my friends.’

Mr. Ogilvie laid his firm hand on the young man’s shoulder.

‘Those two men, Clare and Castlereagh, know what they are talking about. They admitted they have their spies in the very heart of your organisation, that they receive almost daily reports of your meetings, of your plans, your schemes.’

Lord Edward shook his head and laughed. ‘They’re cunning foxes both of them! But that was only a feint to draw you! On my honour, I swear it was. I can undertake for all my fellows and for myself — they’re gentlemen, all of them. It is impossible.’

‘Impossible — you use that word too often — impossible that
one
informer has worked his way among you?’

‘Impossible,’ repeated Lord Edward, still smiling, for to him what Mr. Ogilvie had said was so absurd that he refused to heed it. ‘Can’t you see that that is what Clare and Castlereagh would say to force your hand? They hoped, I suppose, that you knew something and that you would then betray it, thinking the cause lost. Why, it is the very oldest trick of all. A most primitive way of discovering a conspiracy to say “all is confessed, useless now to conceal anything!”’

‘You try to make me out the simpleton,’ smiled Mr. Ogilvie. ‘I must say I never thought of that. Lord Clare’s speech carried conviction. Castlereagh’s not the man to play the fool either.’

‘Not the fool, perhaps, my dear sir,’ agreed Fitzgerald, more and more confident, ‘but the man would set a trap. Now, I have undertaken not to tell you any of my plans, and I won’t. But do be confident; don’t think that I’m running into anything stupid or adventurous, a mere boyish prank to scare the Castle. No, no,’ he added, with increasing warmth, ‘assure all my friends that I am perfectly safe, and as for traitors amongst us, or informers, why, it is out of the question.’

Mr. Ogilvie looked at him steadily, wondering if this superb unblemished confidence was based on a good foundation.

‘I must be gone,’ said Lord Edward, ‘there is an appointment to-night which I must keep. Thank you, thank you a thousand times, but don’t be afraid of these men.’

He took his old step-father’s hand in his warm fingers. ‘Do you remember all the good times we had together, sir, and in France, too? That was splendid, was it not? Do you know, I often remember them now, and it heartens me so.’

‘You do need heartening then, Edward?’

‘Why, every man does.’

‘And there’s Pamela and the children.’

‘I’ve thought of them. I fear she is not too happy, sir. I wish you’d come and see her often.’

‘You keep her hidden away. You hide away yourself, avoiding all your friends, Edward. Everybody notices it.’

‘I don’t want to involve any one,’ said the young man frankly. ‘I must tell you that, although I promised not to speak to you of my dangerous affairs.’ He paused a moment, playing with his gloves, swinging them across the palm of his hand. At length he asked:

‘Did Clare mention any names beside mine?’

‘Yes, he mentioned the two Sheares, John and Henry — with venom, I thought.’

‘Yes, yes, that’s nothing new; he hates both of them. He thinks John wrote some of those articles which stung him so. Then there’s a question of a duel once. He insulted John, of course, in the House. There’s nothing in that. Any other names?’

‘He spoke, naturally, of Wolfe Tone.’

‘Ah, poor Tone.’ Fitzgerald laughed. ‘He has long since come into the open, has he not? Nothing there either. He didn’t mention any other names?’

‘No, Edward, no other names.’

‘Nor give any inkling of where he thought the meeting place was?’

‘No, he’s too clever for that. He would have no such knowledge if, as you think, he merely spoke to draw me, and I suppose, though he wished you warned, he did not wish all your friends warned.’

‘Well, then,’ continued Lord Edward earnestly, ‘there was no hint, no mention of any names or places? He didn’t betray that he really had any knowledge of this so-called conspiracy, of these so-called secret meetings?’

‘No, I cannot help you there, Edward. It was merely a general and a most solemn warning for you to leave Ireland. Clare said all the ports should be open for you and your family. Oh, Edward, why not take his advice? Be a man of the world for once. Go with Pamela to visit Henry at Richmond. It’s charming on Boyle’s Farm. You will be heartily welcome. Forget all this.’

Lord Edward shook his head. Without any subterfuge he replied:

‘I can’t. I’ve gone too far. To draw back now would be to betray my friends.’

‘My God,’ cried Mr. Ogilvie. ‘I feared as much!’

‘Well, now you know what you only guessed. Don’t disturb my mother with it. Believe me that it will be all right. Pray for me, sir. Trust that my intentions are honest. Come with me now. I don’t want Pamela to find you here, it would disturb her.’

With gentle force he drew the old man out into the windy street, pressed his hand again, then hurried away into the darkness, his head bent before the rain.