The Iberian Flame

Chapter 55

‘Your Grace?’ Leveson-Gower ventured softly. The prime minister remained at the window, looking down on the angry crowd, his aide supporting him in his infirmity.

‘Sir?’ he persisted.

‘Oh, yes, Spencer,’ he muttered, in a thin, whispery voice. He turned away from the window, shuffled over to the empty cabinet table and sat painfully. ‘What does all this agitation and perplexity mean, pray?’

The man’s age was now a crippling burden, his lifetime of service barely remembered in the weak, confused figure of William Cavendish, the Duke of Portland, as world-shaking changes were taking place. It was said he had only a short time left in this mortal world – but who could replace him without shaking the fragile political balance that kept the administration in power?

‘It is the convention lately signed, Your Grace. The people do consider the terms shameful, our part in its conjuring despicable.’

‘Convention? I’ve not heard of this. Go to Canning and find out what’s to do, there’s a good fellow. He’s sure to know.’

Canning was not in a good temper. ‘Convention? Convention? I’m only secretary of state for the foreign affairs of this benighted kingdom, how should I know anything about what’s happening outside our gates? Hmm?’

In answer Leveson-Gower passed across a newspaper. ‘The mobility are restless, George. They want heads for what they see as a besmirching of our honour with all this about-’

‘I know, I know – I’ve just read the foolish twaddle. Well, I’m not the one who can answer – let the military out on their own and this is what results. They didn’t consult this office so I’ve no idea what possessed them. See Castlereagh. He’s minister for war and supposed to be in charge of those tin soldiers, the useless fool.’

Leveson-Gower knew better than to go immediately to Canning’s deadly enemy and let it lie until the afternoon.

‘There’s going to be a question in the House, nothing surer,’ he advised the minister quietly.

‘God forbid,’ Castlereagh muttered. ‘And blood at the end of it,’ he added, with a sigh.

‘There’s one answer for it all,’ Leveson-Gower offered.

‘Yes?’

‘Come what may, we have Portugal and the French do not.’

‘You mean well, old fellow, but it won’t do. Not at all.’

‘Why not?’

‘The terms. The generals got what they wanted, and without fighting for it. They should have asked themselves why they were being handed the entire country.’

‘Why?’

‘Neither Dupont nor any other could have held Portugal in the face of a general uprising and no aid possible from a Spain in retreat. They had to leave, and on the best terms they could get. And our generals fell right into it in their eagerness to show victorious.’

‘So …’

‘This explains why the terms are so disgraceful. In fact, could they be worse?’ Castlereagh groaned, holding his head in his hands.

‘The foreign minister implies that he will defend this by telling it as a military blunder.’

‘I’m sure the villain will. So I’m to answer the question, I believe. Thank you, Spencer, m’ friend.’

The cabinet met later that evening. The prime minister took his seat and, as was his wont, some minutes to marshal his wits before opening the meeting.

As all present were well aware, the Convention of Cintra was the foremost matter in hand and a business-like summary was quickly delivered by Camden, lord president.

At its conclusion the prime minister quavered, ‘This is … disgraceful. And – and not to be borne.’

The lord chancellor stirred uncomfortably. ‘I rather fear it must be, Your Grace. An act duly signed under the articles in the presence of-’

‘This is none of my doing, that is to say, neither is it my department,’ Canning snarled. ‘The Foreign Office stands absolved of blame in the matter of this shameful act done without its knowledge. I call on the secretary of state for war to make explanation of this farrago – if he can.’

Castlereagh looked up wearily. ‘As well the minister knows, I’m not privy to the full circumstances of all the deliberations leading up to their, er, act of state.’

‘Then what possible use are you, then, sir?’

Ignoring Canning’s venomous gibe, he went on calmly, ‘There is, however, a course open to me that serves not only to enlighten us but give answer to the carping wretches in the streets below us.’

‘Pray tell,’ the foreign minister said sarcastically. ‘We’d like to know.’

‘Why, the simple measure of shipping back the principals of the convention to answer for their conduct before a committee of inquiry.’

‘A full recall, all of ’em?’

‘All three – Dalrymple, Burrard and Wellesley.’

‘Who is a public hero and has friends.’

‘Who will no doubt protect him in the event it goes badly for them.’

‘The chief object will be achieved, sir.’

‘That the public will be mollified. This I can see well enough. But what of the army left in Iberia? Who will-’

Castlereagh’s pale face was growing steadily pallid at the interrogation and he snapped back, ‘There’s one senior general still in the field, Sir John Moore, who I’d think well able to take the war to the enemy.’ He drew a sharp breath. ‘Sir, this is naught to do with foreign affairs and I will not have your stepping into areas of competence that do not concern you. I’ve outlined a course of action-’

‘Gentlemen, gentlemen.’ The weary voice of the prime minister intervened. ‘Let it be so. Recall the signatories and have your inquiry but let it be privy, not for public spectacle. And directly – the sooner this distasteful business is behind us the better.’