Inferno

Chapter 23

No. 10 Downing Street, London

His Grace the Duke of Portland paused between the two Corinthian pillars at the entrance to the Cabinet Room. His waiting ministers rose in a massed scraping of chairs. Supported by a footman, the prime minister of Great Britain made his way to his place at the centre of the long table. Although old and in failing health, he was arrayed in state robes and a full-bottomed wig.

‘I trust Your Grace is taking well of his Ward’s drops,’ murmured a tall, nearly bald man. The remaining hair at the sides of his head was ridiculously dressed, but no one in the room would say as much to George Canning, the imperious foreign secretary.

‘I thank you, sir, but it does not answer, I’m grieved to say,’ Portland replied, in a thin voice.

Canning allowed a shadow of concern to appear. ‘Your Grace, I’m persuaded I speak for all present in wishing you speedy relief from your bodily trials.’

‘That is kind in you,’ the prime minister answered, with a civil nod.

Further down the table an intense-featured man, handsome in a distant, patrician manner, muttered, ‘As we have been here assembled to do business of the realm, let us not waste time in flatteries.’

‘My lord Castlereagh,’ Portland said, to the secretary of state for war, ‘be assured, we’ve come to discuss the gravest of matters. Do set aside your differences, I beg of you, in the face of this peril.’ He looked around the room, then paused to collect his thoughts.

Spencer Perceval, a pale individual, the able and principled chancellor of the exchequer, prompted, ‘Meaning Bonaparte’s Continental System, Your Grace?’

Perceval had performed heroics to fund Britain’s lonely stand against Bonaparte without ruinous taxation imposts and stood outside the poisonous feuding between the power-hungry Canning and the gifted Castlereagh.

‘Quite, quite. Gentlemen, it doesn’t need me to remind you that this has been a truly momentous development. When Bonaparte issued his Berlin decree, prohibiting any from trade with this country, we were not to know that within months almost the entire continent would be closed to us. His master-stroke has been to hurt us grievously without ever a shot fired in battle.’

His cabinet stirred restlessly. It was the fate of the most talented government for a generation to be led by a frail figure of the past – the previous administration, following Pitt’s inspired leadership and then premature death, had been called the Ministry of All the Talents but had collapsed in ignominy. The Tories had returned to power, but under this enfeebled figurehead leadership.

‘For the sake of clarity in our deliberations I would call upon you severally to state your opinion as to our position from your perspective as a minister of state. Foreign Secretary, would you outline to us how you believe we stand in these parlous times?’

Canning pursed his lips. ‘Easily laid out, Your Grace. Napoleon Bonaparte has devoured most of the civilised world. This leaves us with precious few friends. To the east of France, Austria is tottering and Prussia is being overrun as we speak. At the present time, sir, the only nations in the whole of the continent not under the tyrant’s boot are Denmark, which as ever remains strictly neutral, Sweden, with its eccentric king, Gustavus, and Russia. As this last is ruled by the ambitious but dim-witted Tsar Alexander, we can be sure of nothing. To the west of France there is only Portugal, our last and most loyal friend. And a pitifully vulnerable liability.

‘In sum, Boney and his puppets hold a vast empire stretching from the Russian border to the shores of the Atlantic. There is nothing left, I’m grieved to say, and it must be faced that the entire European seaboard, save Denmark and Sweden, now girdles his private fiefdom.’

‘Hmmph. Secretary of State for War?’

Castlereagh wasted no time outlining his views. ‘In fine, we have a stalemate. At sea we are peerless and unconquerable. On land Bonaparte stands invincible. Only if he puts to sea to try conclusions with us, which I very much doubt he will do, or on the other hand we make landing with an army to match his millions, which I equally doubt, will there be any chance of resolution. This is the essence of the situation – a stalemate.

‘Yet with this Continental System he seeks to break the impasse and take the war to a different dimension. It’s now a species of trade war, of economical contention, and I fear one we are sore pressed to counter. Europe is near cut off to our exporting, bar some contemptible smuggling, but should things turn even more against us we lose, in addition, our vital imports of materials for industry. Frankly, I confess I cannot see any way in the military line out of this situation.’

His words hung in an uncomfortable silence until Perceval said heavily, ‘In course this is not to be accepted.’

Canning’s response was immediate. ‘Not to be? My dear sir, it has to be accepted, for this is where we are, and no amount of-’

‘Sir!’ Perceval retorted. ‘Tolerating a state of impotence is not to be countenanced. And why? Let me detail it for you. The raw materials market now closed to us has consequences that set us on a downward spiral to oblivion as a nation. There is-’

‘We all know this, Perceval. When-’

‘Let me finish! We were lately in prodigious growth, our industries propelled by steam power and machines producing goods in quantities that the world marvels at. Without markets it’s as nothing to us. In my tour of the north there were howls of anguish from the merchantry. I saw ironmasters ruined, manufactories silent, the working masses turned away at the gates to penury, a sight may I say to wring the hardest of hearts, sir.

‘And I appeal to you, where is now the revenue to continue the war? At ruinous expense we maintain our far-flung navy and its dockyards, the army must prepare for any assault on these islands and-’

‘Hold, sir!’ Canning interrupted. ‘Are you saying you’ll have us put down our arms? Cravenly yield to the tyrant?’

Perceval breathed deeply. ‘His Grace wishes a summation of my views. I shall continue. And it is to say that there is an even worse prospect that looms larger as we procrastinate. I point to the situation where France within the Continental System has complete and unfettered control of the markets. What, then, of us? Europe, sir, is turning by degrees into a captive marketplace for French goods alone.’

He paused significantly. ‘Then later, at any peace, we will see all our customers lost to the French. Without exports to pay for our imports we will face ruination, sir. It will then be far too late for idle discussion.’

Portland harrumphed, then said weakly, ‘It does seem that time is not on our side. I put it to all of you that we must decide on a course of action that can break this stranglehold. I beg I might hear of some suggestions.’

Castlereagh sighed. ‘A hardening of our orders-in-council against neutral shipping and the like in reply to Boney’s decree risks upsetting any remaining uncommitted nations, the United States in particular. It would be a blow indeed to see them ally with the French as they did back in the American war, do you not agree?’

‘What other instruments have we to hand in a trade war?’ Canning rapped. ‘Only the navy is active in this matter, and to tie its hands …’

‘Gentlemen, gentlemen, do remember your dignity. What is needed now are answers, not difficulties. Now, is there among you any constructive line of thought that can be brought to bear?’

As the room erupted into an ill-tempered babble, Canning gave a twisted smile. ‘Well, there is one thing that is on our side. With the Whigs in such disarray we’ve little to be feared from the floor of the House. We’ve some small space to arrive at a decisive solution …’

Portland ignored the barely concealed contempt at his handling of the parliamentary opposition, and declared loftily, ‘Well, it can hardly be worse for us, now, can it?’