The Rape of Venice Page 2

  ‘Wrong! How so? The nation is united under a stable government. The Coalition gives you an overwhelming majority in the House. We are still sustained by our Christian faith. The war may again be making heavy in-roads on our resources, but we still adhere to our traditions and are as determined as ever to maintain our rights.’

  ‘Mr. Brook, having lived for so long abroad it is understandable that you should have remained unaware of the changed feeling in your own country. Last October, on His Majesty’s going to open Parliament his coach was stoned by the mob.’

  ‘So I heard, Sir, and was most deeply shocked; but I took it to be an isolated act by a small group of fanatics.’

  ‘It was far from that. Thousands thronged the Mall and booed him. No such demonstration against a British Monarch has taken place within living memory. That it should do so is clear evidence that the loyalty of the masses has been undermined by the pernicious doctrines of the French. During the past two years they have spread like wildfire, and every town now has its proletarian club at which agitators preach revolution. Were the franchise universal at the next election there would be a real danger of this country becoming a Republic. So you may rid your mind of the idea that the people are still united.’

  Roger finished his glass of port, then said with a frown, ‘I was, of course, aware that hot-heads like Horne Tooke had long been creating trouble, and of the near-treasonable activities of the London Corresponding Society; but I had not a notion that sedition had become so widespread.’

  ‘Last autumn the Society of which you speak convened a meeting in Islington Fields. It was attended by no less than fifteen thousand persons, and resolutions were passed at it advocating armed rebellion. God knows what might have happened had I not promptly ordered numerous regiments of troops from their stations in the country to the outskirts of London. Norwich, Birmingham, Sheffield, Bristol, and a score of other cities have become hot-beds of revolution. I am at present holding the masses down only by having suspended Habeas Corpus and having put through a Treason Act making malcontents who speak against the Constitution liable to transportation for seven years,

  ‘You spoke, too, of the Christian Faith,’ Mr. Pitt went on. with a shrug of his narrow shoulders. ‘It has recently suffered as serious a decline as loyalty to the Crown. John Wesley’s teachings detached a great part of the masses from the Established Church. Methodism is a revolt from religious discipline and on doctrinal matters near synonymous with Freethinking. What more fertile breeding ground could you have for complete disbelief? Those who preach anarchy also preach atheism and, alas, thousands, many thousands, of the proletariat have now accepted both.

  ‘With regard to money: in the present war I have had to find vast sums to subsidise our allies. Without British gold they could never have kept their armies in the field so long, and the drain has near ruined us.

  ‘As for myself, ’tis true that I have the backing of a large majority in the House; but I no longer possess the confidence of the people. If ever I now drive abroad I am greeted with shouts of “Peace! Peace! Stop the War! Stop killing our friends! Murderer! Stop sending our money to the foreign tyrants! Give us bread! Give us peace!”’

  ‘Tell me, Sir,’ Roger asked, ‘what is the cause of this extraordinary change in the people’s attitude?’

  ‘The Whig aristocracy is fundamentally to blame. Unlike us Tories, they have never lifted a finger to protect the common people. Democracy means for them equality among themselves and striving to bring the Monarch down to their own level. They prate of Liberalism and the Rights of Man, yet did not scruple to take advantage of the Enclosures Act and increase their own properties by grabbing the land that for centuries had been held in common by the peasantry of each village. Robbed of free tillage, pasture and firewood, the peasants migrated to the towns. There they were sweated, brutalised from being forced to live in slums, and at bad times turned off to starve. Then came the French Revolution, and from it there emerged this wave of agitators who promise that the dethronement of Kings and the murder of the rich will bring about a Utopia. Yet can it be wondered at that any prospect of bettering their appalling lot should light a flame among the slum dwellers? I do not blame them. On the contrary, it fills me with despair that we should have to spend on war the millions that I might otherwise use in wise measures to ameliorate their lot.’

  After a moment the Prime Minister went on: ‘That is the root cause; but the positive factor that has turned widespread discontent into smouldering revolution is the failure of last year’s harvest. Early this year the best wheat was fetching six guineas a quarter—a positively phenomenal price; and bread now costs far more than the ordinary worker can afford to pay.’

  Roger nodded. ‘I was aware of that, Sir; and that you had taken measures to counteract it. Prohibiting the manufacture of whisky, putting a tax on flour used for powdering the hair, urging the bakers to use one-third barley when making loaves, and having the members of the House set an example by voluntarily denying themselves pastry until the crisis is over, should have gone a great way to restoring the situation.’

  ‘Nevertheless, considerable numbers of His Majesty’s poorest subjects have actually died from starvation. Should the harvest fail again this year, I’ll not answer for it that events here will not follow the pattern they took in France, and a guillotine be set up in Whitehall as a means of terminating the activities of people such as you and I.’

  ‘Plague on it!’ Roger protested. ‘’Twould be prodigious hard if having lived through the Terror in Paris I were called upon to spit in the basket no more than a quarter of a mile from my own Club.’ Then he added in a more sober tone, ‘I no longer wonder now at your anxiety to secure a peace. Yet I see no way to it short of betraying our Austrian allies and submitting to ignominious terms.’

  ‘That I would never do,’ replied the Prime Minister haughtily. ‘Nor, did I make such proposals, would His Majesty consent to them.’

  ‘Do you believe, Sir, that the Austrians will stand equally loyally by us?’

  ‘I believe the Emperor has the will to do so, but whether he has the means is another question. Only this week I received from him a request for a further one million two hundred thousand pounds. He asserts that without it he will be unable to pay his troops through to the end of this year’s campaign.’

  ‘Is it your intention to let him have it?’

  ‘Legally, I cannot do so without the consent of Parliament, and the House does not reassemble until October.’

  ‘By then he would receive it too late for the purpose he requires it.’

  ‘I had thought to shelve the matter, hoping that by the late summer the French would find themselves compelled to enter into negotiations for a general pacification.’

  Roger turned away to gaze out across the battlements. Far below some children were paddling in the gently creaming surf. The blue-green sea was calm, the sun glinting on its wavelets. A few miles out a brigantine with all sail set was heading down Channel. Otherwise the sea stretched unbroken to disappear in a heat-haze on the horizon. Without looking at Mr. Pitt, he said:

  ‘Should it be not France, but Austria, that has to give in through lack of funds, the whole power of the Republic will be turned against us. You must face it, Sir, that before this time next year we would then be at death-grips with General Buonaparte’s troops upon these very beaches.’

  The Prime Minister sighed. ‘Your having brought to my attention this new source of wealth which will keep the French fighting, I dare not ignore that possibility. It is clear, too, that in the Austrian armies lies our only hope of checking Buonaparte’s advance, and with it this flow of gold; so it has become more necessary than ever to keep them in the field. Let us go down to my room and from a map endeavour to judge the way in which the campaign is likely to develop.’

  Picking up the decanter and his glass, he led the way down a flight of stone steps, through a low nail-studded oak door, and so back to the room in which he had receive
d Roger that morning. It had no great map of Europe—such as one might have expected to find pinned up on the wall of the study of the leader of a nation at war—but Mr. Pitt took from a shelf a well-thumbed atlas and flicked over its leaves until he came to the map of Italy.

  It was a patchwork of different colours. The Kingdom of the Two Sicilies, embracing all southern Italy and the great island of Sicily, was the largest. Next in size came the Kingdom of Sardinia, consisting of that island, together with Savoy and Piedmont in the north-west, which, in the previous month, had been conquered by General Buonaparte. The whole middle of the peninsula was occupied by the States of the Church and the Grand Duchy of Tuscany. Above them lay a mosaic of smaller states: the Republics of Genoa and Lucia, the Dukedoms of Parma, Modena, Mantua and Milan, and, spreading over all of the north-east, from near Milan to the Adriatic, a territory as large as Switzerland that was still ruled by the Serene Republic of Venice.

  Roger laid a finger-tip on Nice, drew it eastward some way along the Ligurian coast, then twenty miles inland, and remarked:

  ‘That is the route Buonaparte took, and it was up there in the mountains that he carried out the first part of his plan by driving a wedge between the Piedmontese and General Beaulieu’s Austrians. Alone the Piedmontese had no chance against him, and one most unfortunate result of their surrender is that it has enabled Buonaparte to open direct communications through Turin with France.’

  The Prime Minister nodded. ‘Yes, Lord Cornwallis pointed that out to me at a recent meeting of the Cabinet. ’Tis a sad blow, as previously all his supplies had to be brought from Nice along the coast to bases on the Italian Riviera, and were then exposed to constant harassing from Commodore Nelson’s squadron working out of Leghorn. Now we are no longer able to aid the Austrians even to that extent.’

  ‘In such mountainous country,’ Roger went on, ‘and with so many river barriers, one would have thought that the Austrians would have been able to hold him; but I gather that their generals are old in years and old-fashioned in their methods. At all events, the Corsican foxed them by by-passing the Po and forcing the Adda at Lodi. He does not lack for courage and, by all accounts, his capture of the bridge there against great odds was a personal triumph, as well as the second important milestone in his campaign. It scared the Dukes of Parma and Modena into asking him for terms, and the Duchy of Milan, too, fell like a ripe plum into his lap.’

  ‘I am told that owing to the agitators he had sent ahead to spread revolutionary doctrines, the Milanese welcomed the French troops with open arms.’

  ‘The poor fools will soon have cause to rue it,’ Roger commented with a cynical laugh, ‘as did the Belgians earlier in the war when they opened the gates of their towns to General Dumouriez’s cut-throat soldiery. Within three months, the bringers of Liberty had stripped them of all but their shirts.’

  ‘What, in your opinion, will Buonaparte’s next move be?’ Mr. Pitt enquired. ‘Both the Papal States and Tuscany lie open to him and neither could put up a serious resistance. Such easy prey must be very tempting to him.’

  ‘No, he will not turn south. At least, not if he adheres to his grand design, as he expounded it to me. It was to drive north through the Venetian lands, and so into the Tyrol. There, he hopes to join up with the Army of the Rhine and thence, with the united armies giving him overwhelming strength, march direct on Vienna.’

  ‘One cannot but admire the breadth of such a conception. He must be a remarkable man and is, I gather, not much older than yourself.’

  ‘He is, in fact, my junior, Sir, by some eight months.’

  For a few minutes the Prime Minister remained silent, then he said:

  ‘Your mention of Venice reminds me of the main reason for my sending for you; but I’ll not enter on that for the moment. Your grasp of military matters has always impressed me, and I would like to hear what you consider General Buonaparte’s chances to be of carrying through his great plan?’

  ‘You flatter me, Sir,’ Roger smiled. ‘But my work has oft necessitated my living for long spells at the Headquarters of Generals commanding armies in the field, and maybe there is some little truth in the old adage that “the looker-on sees most of the game”. Even so, I hesitate to make a prediction in this case, because it is subject to so many unknown factors. In the first place, will the Emperor be able to continue the war without the new subsidy for which he has asked you?’

  ‘He shall have it, Mr. Brook.’

  ‘In time for it to serve its purpose?’

  ‘Yes; it shall be furnished to him within a month.’

  ‘Do you intend, then, to recall Parliament?’

  ‘No. I shall send it on my own responsibility.’

  Roger raised his eyebrows. ‘Should you do that, Sir, surely you would risk impeachment?’

  The Prime Minister gave his pale smile. ‘It will be ground enough and will raise no small outcry. Did you see Gillray’s cartoon based on the stoning of his Majesty’s coach? I was depicted as his coachman, driving like Jehu through a hail of bad eggs, carrots and dead cats, while Lansdowne, Bedford and Whitbread strove to stop the vehicle’s wheels. Fox and Sheridan, armed with bludgeons, were endeavouring to wrench open its door, and Norfolk was aiming a blunderbuss at the King. All these Whig nabobs will seize on such an unconstitutional act as a fine chance to demand my head; but I doubt not I’ll keep it on my shoulders.’

  ‘It is those traitors who should be sent to the block on Tower Hill,’ Roger declared, his face reddening with indignation. ‘Ever since ’89 Fox and the Holland House crew have at every turn encouraged the French revolutionaries by applauding their acts, and striven to thwart your measures for the defence of Britain.’

  ‘The right of the Opposition to attack Government in Parliament is the very cornerstone of our liberties,’ replied the Prime Minister mildly. ‘So I would be the last to wish things otherwise. And in himself, Charles Fox is a most generous and kindly man. But tell me; what prospects do you consider the Austrians have, given that we can keep them in the field?’

  ‘They should be able to prevent the enemy from invading their own territory, for this year at least; and they have one great asset which should aid them in doing so. That is the fortress of Mantua. It is one of the strongest in Italy. I greatly doubt if Buonaparte would dare to leave it untaken in his rear, and, if well provisioned, it should be able to hold out for several months.’

  ‘Should treachery or incompetence cause Mantua to fall within the next few weeks, what then?’

  ’Then all would depend upon the Army of the Rhine, Buonaparte’s line of communications would be so long and, having to pass twice through the Alps, too hazardous for him to advance on Vienna unsupported. Unless Moreau and Jourdan can, in accordance with his plan, rendezvous with him at Innsbruck by the early autumn, he would have to winter in the Tyrol.’

  ‘Can you, Mr. Brook, suggest any means by which we might assist our Austrian allies to prevent the junction of the two enemy armies?’

  Roger shook his head. ‘I can think of none; other than an attempt to rebuild the Coalition, and thus provide the French with additional enemies.’

  ‘If the war drags on there may come a time when that would be possible; but for the present it is out of the question. However, because I have had great hopes of negotiating a peace with the French this summer, that does not mean that I have altogether ignored the possibility that we might have to continue at war. And there is one powerful state that by skilful handling I believe could be drawn in to our assistance. I refer to the Serene Republic.’

  ‘Venice!’ The widening of Roger’s blue eyes showed his astonishment. ‘Admittedly I have never visited that city but, from all I have heard, centuries of luxury and debauchery have rendered its inhabitants the last word in decadence. Already both the French and Austrians have violated the Serene Republic’s neutrality by sending troops across her borders, yet that has not led to her even making a serious protest.’

  ‘It is true that t
he Senate have not yet defined the position that they intend to take up. But having witnessed the Kingdom of Sardinia, three out of the four Duchies and their sister republic, Genoa, all so swiftly brought under the heel of revolutionary France, you may be sure that they are greatly concerned about the future. I know that to be so for they now have a secret envoy in London. His instructions are to assess our capability and will to carry on the war, so that they can decide whether to ask us for an alliance and declare against the French, or if it would pay them better to offer General Buonaparte free access to all their strong places in exchange for a guarantee of the return thereof after the war, and of the Republic’s continuance as a Sovereign State.’

  Did you grant this envoy an interview yourself. Sir.’ Roger enquired, ‘or did my Lord Grenville see him at the Foreign Office?’

  ‘Neither of us has seen him; and we are not likely to. That’s just the rub. I have been privately informed about him. He is not here to make an official approach to His Majesty’s Government, but has been sent only to spy out the land; and from our point of view he could not have made a worse beginning. Like so many of these wealthy foreigners he was already acquainted with several of our die-hard Whig nobility; so he was promptly made much of at Holland House, and Sheridan has appointed himself his bear-leader during his stay in London.’

  ‘In that case ’tis a certainty that those pro-French traitors will send him back to Venice convinced that Britain is near down and out.’ With a shrug, Roger added lightly, ‘But I’d not let that worry you unduly, Sir. I doubt if the Venetians have a kick left in them; so whichever way their Senate may decide will make little odds to us.’

  ‘On the contrary, Mr. Brook. While the war continues, no chance whatever of securing help in it should be neglected. Despite my sanguine hopes that, within the next few months, peace might be restored, I have never lost sight of that. It is the reason that I sent for you. I desire you to make the acquaintance of this Signor Rinaldo Malderini, and give him clearly to understand that Britain still has great resources and will never agree a peace that does not embody a full recognition of her allies’ interests. Before our talk this morning, I had accounted this small commission as merely a precautionary measure, and one unlikely to require following up; but now I regard it as both urgent and of the first importance.’