Ashworth Hall - Anne Perry [4]
“In order to keep the appearance of a perfectly ordinary weekend, my wife will accompany me, as would be natural on a social occasion,” he began. “As perhaps you are aware, the factions in Irish politics are not simply Catholic and Protestant, although those are the two principal divisions. There are always class divisions also, between those who own land and those who do not.”
He moved very slightly in a gesture of resignation and regret. “That used to be directly according to religion. For decades all Catholics were banned from owning property; they could only rent, and as you may be aware, some of the landlords exercised their power in the most brutal fashion. Others, of course, were the very opposite. Many bankrupted themselves trying to take care of their dependents during the potato famine in the forties. But memory is subject to great distortion, even without the added twists of Nationalist propaganda and folklore perpetuated in story and song.”
Pitt was on the edge of interrupting. He only wished to know who was expected, how many people he would have to consider.
But Greville did not permit anyone to override him when he was in command of the situation.
“And all points of view have their moderates and their radicals who at times can hate each other even more than they hate the opposition,” he went on. “And those whose families have been part of the Protestant Ascendancy for generations, and have convinced themselves it is the will of God, can be harder to move in their opinions than any old-fashioned martyr, believe me. I think some of them would welcome a den of lions, and even a good stake to be burned at.”
Pitt could hear the exasperation in his voice, and caught a momentary glimpse of the years of frustration of the would-be peacemaker. He felt a surge of sympathy towards Greville which surprised him.
“There are four principal negotiators,” Greville continued. “Two Catholic and two Protestant. Their particular points of view do not need to interest you, at least at this juncture, and I think not at all. There is the very moderate Catholic Padraig Doyle. He has fought in the cause of Catholic emancipation and land reform for many years. But he is a respected figure; not, so far as we know, associated with any form of violence. He is my brother-in-law, in fact. But I would prefer that the other participants did not know that at this stage. They might consider me unduly partisan, which I am not.”
Pitt waited without interruption.
Cornwallis made his fingers into a steeple and listened attentively, although presumably he was already aware of all that Greville was saying.
“He will come alone,” Greville resumed. “The other Catholic representative is Lorcan McGinley, a younger and very different kind of man. He can be charming when he chooses, but lives in a state of permanent anger. He lost family in the potato famine, and land to the Protestant Ascendancy. He is quite openly an admirer of people like Wolfe Tone and Daniel O’Connell. He is for a free and independent Ireland under Catholic rule, and God knows what would happen to the Protestants then.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know myself how close his ties are to Rome. The dangers of reciprocal persecution of Protestants might be very real indeed, or equally it might be a great deal more extreme in talk than in fact. This is one of the things we need to find out in this conference. The last thing we want is civil war, and I assure you, Superintendent, it is not an impossibility.”
Pitt was chilled. He had enough schoolroom memory of what the English civil war was accounted to have been, the death and bitterness which took generations to heal. Ideological war had a brutality unlike any other.
“McGinley will bring his wife,” Greville went on. “I know very little about her, except that she is apparently a Nationalist poet. Therefore we may presume a romantic, one of those highly dangerous people who create stories of love and betrayal, heroic battles and splendid deaths that never happened, but they do it