“Only to hear the German violinist, Spohr. Acquaintances in the various embassies and consular offices throughout Europe have assured me that he is numbered amongst the great as a player and is very competent indeed as a composer. He has worked with Herr Beethoven on some of his violin sonatas but is primarily a follower of Mozart. His wife will play as well, she is a harpist of no mean repute and he has written for the pair of them. They are in London for part of this year.”
Frances had heard that there was a German violinist in London, knew no more of him, was very willing to attend a recital. The three agreed to purchase seats, a box if possible, at his next performance.
The man was a giant, they discovered, literally in stature, he stood nearly a head taller than Tom and was broad on his shoulders, but as well in musical ability. His playing displayed a delicacy of tone and sentiment that came strangely from one so large and his compositions were assured and technically very correct.
“Not an earth-shattering genius such as Herr Beethoven, but at least as enjoyable as Hummel, and destined not to be forgotten!”
It was a fair summary they thought; Herr Louis Spohr had earned his place in the world of music.
Robert returned from the North Country, was glad to greet Major Plunkett, having little knowledge himself of Ireland and always ready to discover more opportunities for business.
“How are things on Teesside, Robert?”
“Flourishing, sir! There is a cloud of coal smoke so thick one can often barely see the sun! The foundries are working at full stretch and the ship-building yards have night shifts. The word is that Joseph’s favourite engineer, Mr Stephenson, is enjoying a marked degree of success with his steam engines and he is reputed to be on the verge of creating a long trackway, part or all of which will be steam-driven. Men are flocking in from the countryside and seeking to buy their food from the new stores which are opening. The roads on the outskirts are more often than not blocked by flocks of sheep and herds of cattle walking into market and the ports are full of small coasting vessels bringing in vegetables from up and down the coast, even from the Low Countries, to fill those empty stomachs!”
“So… your Belgian store-keepers are operating at a profit, I presume.”
“They are, sir, and fortunately, you will remember, I persuaded them to make two borrowings, separately and for distinct firms, one for the food stores, the other for the coal and iron project in Flanders.”
“Flanders not successful?” Tom responded.
“It all depends, sir, on how one defines ‘success’. They have a well-run coal pit, producing cheaply, and they have built a foundry on modern principles, capable of out-producing the old Roberts Works. What they lack, sadly, is customers – the demand for iron is simply not present. Their shipyards are tiny and work exclusively in wood, and there are no great warehouses or manufacturies needing cast-iron pillars; bridge-building is at a standstill; there are no trackways in the whole country, I believe; the demand for armaments of war does not exist. Both pit and foundry are to close their doors this month.”
It was a pity, in many ways, but it did mean that there was to be no foreign competition outside of the States, which made life easier for the English manufacturer.
“You said food stores, plural, Robert?”
“I did indeed, sir. The original warehouse to import foodstuffs from Flanders has expanded its activities. Never a hugely profitable undertaking, by its very nature, but equally very steady – except in deepest depression, folk must buy food.”
“What do they do in depressed times, Mr Andrews?” Plunkett asked.
“Starve, sir.”
There was a moment of silence, filled by Tom enquiring whether it would be possible to sell Irish whiskey by the bottle in the stores.
“I would think so, sir. Certainly they move much gin and a small amount of brandy, so an in-between sort of bottle might go very well. From your estates, I presume, Major Plunkett?”
They explained the plans they had sketched out.
“A good idea, I think. We really do need some way of discovering firms that could be bought out to our convenience, because I do not know of any bottlers in the country, nor do I know of any way of locating the three we would wish to buy… except, of course, that we have the very man immediately to hand.”
He told them of Captain Eustace Hood and the work he had done for the bank in the previous few months.
“Was he to be willing to travel this country, in much the same way, then he could be very useful to us, Robert.”
“He is unmarried and has led a restless life, doing this and that in the Navy. I am fairly well certain that he would be amenable to the suggestion, sir.”
It seemed good to all three.
“What of the political aspects of business in Belgium, Robert?”
“Difficult, sir! We do not wish to encourage the Belgians into the arms of foreigners. The harbours of Belgium must remain neutral if not actively allied to us. A hostile navy in the ports from Antwerp to Dunkerque would threaten the Thames Estuary and could strangle British trade and starve London. Belgium in French or Prussian hands would be an instant cause of war. The Scheldt is closed to navigation by treaty because of that fear. Trade may help Belgium stay independent, but… trade in what? The country is poor, broken by war, ten years at least from recovery.”
Frances thought she remembered Belgian lace, wondered if perhaps the skills might still exist, though it would hardly lend itself to the manufactury and large-scale production.
“Your famous pin-makers would be hard-pressed to extend their new ways into lace-making, I believe.”
“Mechlin lace, ma’am, though I know not whether that be French or Belgian. My lady wife wore her mother’s and grandmother’s wedding gown and told me it was that.”
Patrick Plunkett was quite proud of himself for remembering such a detail from the harassing day.
It seemed a promising line of business, until they discovered later in the week that most of the Mechlin was made in England and, indeed, a first mechanical loom had been devised in the previous year.
Agricultural products seemed to be the only answer, a little value added by processing milk into cheeses, as they were already doing.
Robert took Major Plunkett into the bank with him and made the commercial arrangements for his new business.
“Will you be returning immediately to Ireland, Major?”
“I must, I am afraid, Mr Andrews. Leaving aside that I should not be away from my lady wife for too long just now, the estates need to see me very regularly. Absentee landlords are not loved in Ireland and I take pains to be visible in all four of my holdings at the shortest possible intervals. I am lucky that they are within reason close together, not one of them more than a day’s ride from Dublin, situated variously between Drogheda, Navan and Trim. Poor lands, compared to yours in England, I doubt I see ten shillings an acre from the best, but there are the better part of thirty thousand English acres, so I make a living of them. But you will see why I am anxious to improve on production, and the whiskey will put at least another hundred men into work, and that is five or six hundred mouths fed when all is said and done.”
“What of your sister, sir?”
“Poor Rosemary? She is situated on her husband’s piece of land, further north, not so far from Belfast. He was comfortably off in money more than acres and she has been well-served by the attorney who invested for her, so she has a very fair income, and when her son reaches his majority he will be in good financial shape, and she will have her jointure, which is not small. A lonely life though. She was a sheltered girl in many ways and the Captain was a hard man it transpires and she has never looked at another since he died so opportunely at sea. Young Simon must be just a few months off of one and twenty and I believe Rosemary has it in mind to retire to live in a comfortable house in England, down towards Worthing, perhaps, on the coast.”
“Easier for her in many ways, Major. From being mistress of th
e house she would have suddenly to take second place to her son. Better for both to put a distance between them. The Bristol boats mainly go to Cork so you will be taking the packet from Liverpool, I presume?”
“I shall, Mr Andrews. I shall ride the new steam ferry-boat, for the experience. Do you know if it was built in your yards?”
Robert shook his head, ventured a quiet smile.
“No, sir! Captain Star talked over such a venture last year and concluded it was better left to others. The thing is, you see, that the Irish Sea is stormy in autumn and winter, and sometimes in spring, too. Ferries sometimes sink, in the nature of things – a piece of ill-fortune, a sudden hurricane gust, a rogue wave – these things happen naturally. But what if it is a steamship that sinks? It will be one day, in the very nature of things. Will people say it was bad luck, which can happen to anybody? Or will they say the boiler blew up, the ship caught fire, the paddlewheels broke?”
Both men knew what people were – rationality would go out of the window and steamships would be demonised.
“None of Roberts’ tugging boats or river ferries have ever suffered a fatal misadventure, and we would wish to keep matters that way. It is our intent to stay in the production of smaller ships in coastal waters until the engines are improved and the hulls are made stronger. One day, or so I am told, it will be possible to make steel in plates and as cheaply as wrought iron. When that day comes, then we shall venture upon the oceans – but not before!”
Robert escorted Major Plunkett to the bank’s front door, waved a farewell as he stepped carefully up into the waiting cab, turned to the senior clerk.
“Is Captain Hood in the building?”
“Yes, Mr Andrews. He has been familiarising himself with the folder you sent down, sir. We have put him in the office at the rear on the first floor.”
There were four rooms available for speaking to clients of the bank, well separate so that they would not bump into each other. The senior clerk had put Captain Hood into the largest and most comfortably furnished, an interesting choice; he evidently had a degree of respect for the captain.
“The captain has no background in banking. Has he asked for assistance with the files I have directed to him?”
“Only to explain certain of our terms, Mr Andrews. He has shown, if I may say so, a very astute apprehension of our practices. One is inclined, sir, to assume that the gentleman was something out of the ordinary way of seafaring officers.”
“I really must not comment on that, Mr Meyer, as you will appreciate.”
The senior clerk would not say a word out of place to his juniors and it was possible to offer him slight indiscretions. He would be very pleased to have been given oblique confirmation of his suggestion that Captain Hood had been engaged in intelligence gathering – it showed a flattering trust in his integrity.
“The captain will be performing a number of specific tasks for the bank, Mr Meyer. He may well on occasion request information about the business of some of our clients. He is to be given untrammelled access to our files – all of them.”
The bank collected information on all of its customers as a matter of simple prudence. In the nature of things it occasionally became clear that a firm or individual was skirting very close to the boundaries of legality; such information was held in the strictest confidence, was certainly not to be released to law officers or others who wished to pry into the private concerns of the bank’s valued clientele. Very rarely a client ceased to be valued and in that case the policy could be eased.
Captain Hood was to be at liberty to access all knowledge held by the bank.
Robert walked up the marble staircase that led into the less public areas of the bank, only to be available to the favoured few, tapped on the door and let himself in.
“What is your opinion on the Belgian loans, Captain Hood?”
“Generosity, sir! The bank should offer a moratorium, writing off the sums advanced on the foundry and coal mine, on the condition that Mostyns shall be given first refusal on future business with them. They will reopen one day, I believe, but probably not in this decade. The warehouses in the North Country should be treated as an unrelated enterprise and the bank should continue its normal relationship with them. I believe that it would be wise to inform the Foreign Office of your intent, sir – the political interest is quite obvious.”
The losses would not be huge, their normal provisions for bad debt would cover them and the government would once again reflect upon the reliability of the bank.
“That is what we will do then, Captain Hood. Thank you for your advice. Now, sir, we have a proposal from an Irish gentleman that is of potential commercial value.”
Robert outlined Major Plunkett’s business.
“Selling in London, the Birmingham area, Lancashire and the North-East. I would imagine, Mr Roberts. Three or four bottling enterprises, existing breweries or large-scale sellers of gin would be my first thoughts. One printing firm for the labels – they will be much easier to transport about the country. Corks, sir, to be procured from Portugal or Spain, I should imagine, Crates for the bottles, a dozen or so at a time, one would imagine; wood to be sourced, it is difficult to come by, I believe.”
“I had not considered corks, I will admit, Captain Hood.”
“You will wish me to investigate all of these matters, Mr Andrews?”
“If you would be so good, Captain Hood. You might, while you are doing so, keep your eyes and ears open for any other opportunities that might interest the bank or the Roberts Iron Foundry. It is our habit to pay a significant commission on information that leads to profitable undertakings, sir. Purchases of strategic acreages of land can often be very profitable, as you will imagine.”
“Such as the derelict wharfs immediately next to the East India Company dock at Rotherhithe, sir? I hear John Company intends to expand this year or next.”
“I heard the same, Captain Hood. We now own those wharfs.”
Their minds seemed to work in much the same way; there could be a profitable association in the making.
“I think it would be well for you to make contact with Mr Joseph Andrews, Captain Hood. My youngest brother, an engineer of some genius, but perhaps a fraction erratic in the application of his talents. His eyes are firmly fixed on the future, and he may be able to suggest potential developments of significance. Incidentally, what do you think of coal gas?”
“Street lamps, Mr Andrews. Has it any other use?”
“Lighting of houses? Heating? Possibly its use as a fuel for cooking? All of these advances have been suggested.”
Captain Hood’s nose wrinkled – not in his house seemed to be his opinion.
“Nor in mine, sir! But, as you know, firewood is in short supply over most of the country, and coal is heavy to carry from door to door in every town in England. Coal is burned to coke at every ironworks, and the gas is mostly wasted. The possibility of use is there.”
“It is indeed, sir. I shall keep my ears open for any suggestions of practical application that I may come across. For the meanwhile, do you know if the bank has copies of County Gazetteers for the whole of England?”
Robert doubted it, recommended Captain Hood to visit a large bookseller, account to the bank, of course.
“I have heard of ‘A New Picture of England and Wales’, written and published by Samuel Leigh, who, I believe, is located in the Strand, or was, certainly. It might be easier to peruse the single volume rather than hunt through the various publications for each county.”
Captain Hood’s interests had all been overseas; he knew little of England and would be very pleased to study the guide.
Half an hour at his desk and Robert had brought himself up to date with the bank’s activities in the days he had been away, reassured himself there was nothing out of the ordinary. He could afford to travel an hour or so on the Great North Road, to visit his other, less official family.
“Is all well with you, Judy-love?”
&
nbsp; “We flourish, me dear. The country air must be good for the boy, the way he’s growing. They say a lad doubles the height he has at his second birthday, and that will make him taller than you, Bobby.”
They watched Patrick chasing and stumbling after a ball on the lawn, falling over his own feet.
“Big built, too – he will not be a slender, trim sort of man.”
“Clever as well, he is talking with good ease now and I am after teaching him his letters and numbers already, and he is lapping up the learning.”
“Good! He will be coming hosed and shod into the world but will still have his own fortune to make and a quick brain will do him no harm at all.”
“And your other children, Bobby? Is all well there?”
“Two sets of twins now, boys and girls! They are healthy, and more than that one cannot ask for. The boys show sign that they will be bright enough and it is far too soon to say anything of the girls. The new house is built now and I shall be moving Miriam into it by summer’s end. London is growing dirtier by the day and disease is more and more common, spreading up from the River and the docks. I have it in mind to put the builders in here, Judy-love, water closets and tap-water and sewers to a distant cess-pit, for there is a strong possibility, the doctors insist, that cleanliness and disease are related.”
“I’ve been reading the same, so I will not disagree with the course.”
They talked quietly for the while until a cloud came over the sun and they brought Patrick indoors for his dinner. They would eat much later, but small children needed be fed their main meal by four o’clock, for the good of their health, as was well known.
“How is your brother, Mr James, coping, Bobby? I read in the Court Pages that he had stayed at the Pavilion with the Prince Regent, as he then still was, so I’m thinking he must be within reason well.”
“Much better than could have been hoped! He is building himself a life and I have every expectation that two or three years will see him wed and quite his own man. He is making a good fist of being a member, showing himself to be quiet and steady, not one to be rushed into any false conclusion, and there are those who have developed a little respect for him, enough to enquire his opinion occasionally. They all know he is no great genius of a policy-maker, he is no Peel, but he has a feel for right and wrong which people like.”
Illusions Of Change (A Poor Man at the Gate Series Book 6) Page 22