*Epilogue - Full Circle*
Virtue owns a more eternal foe
Than Force or Fraud: old Custom, Legal Crime
And bloody Faith, the foulest birth of Time
Shelley, 'Thoughts of a Republican on the Fall of Bonaparte'
*******
1834
Barrow insisted on seeing him at least part of the way out. Lord Hornblower appreciated the small courtesy. John Barrow was well enough entrenched at the Admiralty to have no need to exert himself towards a former minister out of office, an ageing Admiral without current employment. Hornblower had been sensitive to slights these last four years, as the broom of Grey's reforming government swept through the corridors of power.
He knew the man who was entering at first sight, still unmistakable after a quarter-century and despite the civilian dress. The recognition, however, seemed fortunately lost on Barrow, Hornblower's self-control had been perfected by the years.
"I don't know if you know.." receiving no help from either party the Second Secretary embarked on a formal introduction, "Rear-Admiral Lord Dundonald: Rear-Admiral Lord Hornblower."
Yes, of course it was Earl of Dundonald now, the eccentric, bankrupt father finally dead. He had known the man was back of course, back in England, back in the Navy, back after years of exile and near outlawry, back to a hero's welcome.
Of course he had known. Whatever Cochrane - Dundonald - did was never quiet. He had known when the man was marooned without employment by a vindictive Admiralty after the Basque Roads business. Had known of his conviction and imprisonment, a few years afterwards, upon charges of fraud (even Hornblower, hardly impartial, had thought him almost certainly innocent and his trial blatantly unfair) and of his consequent ejection from the Navy. He had known (who did not?) of his subsequent selling of his services to other countries, Chile, Brazil, Greece, all new nations striving to free themselves from their old rulers. Of the victories that had made him once again a famous name in his home country. He had even known, as few did, about the crazy scheme to liberate Bonaparte from his island exile and make him Emperor of South America. He wondered sardonically how the mob that believed Cochrane a hero would react if they knew of that particular escapade, fortunately aborted by the ex-emperor's early death.
He had known Cochrane was back, reinstated into the Navy with full rank and privileges; friends with several in the current government; approved of even by the king, old Sailor Billy. Gambier was dead, he had died an Admiral-of-the-Fleet but that was a hollow title now, a mere honorific without power. The Channel Fleet had been his last active command - and he had never become First Lord of the Admiralty, perhaps that court martial had not been a full victory after all. Most of Cochrane's other longstanding foes were dead as well. Now was the old rebel's hour, the age of reform, when the mob threw stones at Wellington's house because of the rigid opposition to change which had finally brought down his government, and hissed Lord Hornblower in the street because he was Wellington's ally and brother-in-law.
Politics was a fool's game. But when the sea had finally become intolerable he had to do something with himself. And Barbara had been pleased.
"We have met," Cochrane - Dundonald - oh, Cochrane, dammit, said coldly. "It was many years ago, but I have not forgotten." Or forgiven, his tone said.
"Those days are... long past," Hornblower said in an attempt at conciliation, although why he should be conciliating a man loathed by the whole of his wife's family, heaven knew.
"Before you married so well, of course," Cochrane said with significance. The loathing was mutual. "But I have never believed the passage of time alters the facts of any case. Good day, Mr. Barrow." The snub to Hornblower was pointed. Cochrane strode further into the building without another word.
He was right in a sense. Time did not alter the past, but it did alter men, and Hornblower was not the man he had been twenty-five years ago. Although there was no reason why Cochrane should like the one he was now any better.
"I'm sorry for that," the Second Secretary said with ready diplomacy, "Lord Dundonald is a brilliant man, but his manners leave something to be desired."
"That's quite all right," Hornblower said, "No blame to you."
Barrow, ever the perfect civil servant, asked no further questions and Hornblower volunteered no explanations. If asked he would have said that he counted John Barrow a friend, but he could not tell the Second Secretary what was in his heart now. There was no-one he could tell it to. There never would be.
*He holds me responsible for his cousin's disgrace and death. He's only half right. Archie was driven to a felon's grave, but not by me. I didn't know what he intended. I would have stopped him if I could. I loved him....*
*But I let his good name be destroyed. I doubt he'd have cared much for that, but I did, I did, and yet I let it happen. I called it my duty.*
*Archie would have defended my memory with every breath in his body. Cochrane would have spoken out even if there was no memory to defend. But I... did not. But not for advancement. Because I needed to believe my superiors were right. I couldn't adhere to them and to Archie. I made my choice, except I barely even realised I was choosing....*
*But I did know that when I dismissed justice as unimportant I rejected everything he believed. I set myself to be a man that he would not have liked at all. I believed that it was right, more than right, necessary. I had to believe that, or I could not have borne to keep my silence and serve those that had destroyed him.*
*So I had to support the cover-up over the Basque Roads business. I had to lie. I had to. Because if I ever accepted Cochrane was right, then it would mean that I'd been wrong. If exposing incompetence and corruption was justified then I'd betrayed Archie's memory, not for duty, but for nothing... worse than nothing....*
All long past, and what difference had it made? None to Cochrane: the outcome would have been the same whatever Hornblower had said. Probably none to Hornblower, those captains who had testified for Cochrane had not suffered, nor had Frank Austen, although as far as Hornblower knew his views had not reached Gambier's, or the Admiralty's, ears.
No difference except to his conscience - and perhaps his name. When the histories of this time were written some at least would see him as a man who sold his honour.
That was small penalty enough.
Keeping his silence Lord Hornblower left the Admiralty building.
**The End**
Endnote: It bears repeating that I have invented very little here. I would never have dared dream up Harvey's professional suicide or Gambier and his tracts, let alone the character and history of Thomas Cochrane. Most of the dialogue is fictional of course, but any court martial testimony that is given in quotation marks is real. The accounts I've read differ over whether Frank Austen was at the court martial, but his opinion of the Basque Roads action is certainly genuine, as is his connection with Gambier. He was the brother of Jane Austen the novelist.
Virtue owns a more eternal foe
Than Force or Fraud: old Custom, Legal Crime
And bloody Faith, the foulest birth of Time
Shelley, 'Thoughts of a Republican on the Fall of Bonaparte'
*******
1834
Barrow insisted on seeing him at least part of the way out. Lord Hornblower appreciated the small courtesy. John Barrow was well enough entrenched at the Admiralty to have no need to exert himself towards a former minister out of office, an ageing Admiral without current employment. Hornblower had been sensitive to slights these last four years, as the broom of Grey's reforming government swept through the corridors of power.
He knew the man who was entering at first sight, still unmistakable after a quarter-century and despite the civilian dress. The recognition, however, seemed fortunately lost on Barrow, Hornblower's self-control had been perfected by the years.
"I don't know if you know.." receiving no help from either party the Second Secretary embarked on a formal introduction, "Rear-Admiral Lord Dundonald: Rear-Admiral Lord Hornblower."
Yes, of course it was Earl of Dundonald now, the eccentric, bankrupt father finally dead. He had known the man was back of course, back in England, back in the Navy, back after years of exile and near outlawry, back to a hero's welcome.
Of course he had known. Whatever Cochrane - Dundonald - did was never quiet. He had known when the man was marooned without employment by a vindictive Admiralty after the Basque Roads business. Had known of his conviction and imprisonment, a few years afterwards, upon charges of fraud (even Hornblower, hardly impartial, had thought him almost certainly innocent and his trial blatantly unfair) and of his consequent ejection from the Navy. He had known (who did not?) of his subsequent selling of his services to other countries, Chile, Brazil, Greece, all new nations striving to free themselves from their old rulers. Of the victories that had made him once again a famous name in his home country. He had even known, as few did, about the crazy scheme to liberate Bonaparte from his island exile and make him Emperor of South America. He wondered sardonically how the mob that believed Cochrane a hero would react if they knew of that particular escapade, fortunately aborted by the ex-emperor's early death.
He had known Cochrane was back, reinstated into the Navy with full rank and privileges; friends with several in the current government; approved of even by the king, old Sailor Billy. Gambier was dead, he had died an Admiral-of-the-Fleet but that was a hollow title now, a mere honorific without power. The Channel Fleet had been his last active command - and he had never become First Lord of the Admiralty, perhaps that court martial had not been a full victory after all. Most of Cochrane's other longstanding foes were dead as well. Now was the old rebel's hour, the age of reform, when the mob threw stones at Wellington's house because of the rigid opposition to change which had finally brought down his government, and hissed Lord Hornblower in the street because he was Wellington's ally and brother-in-law.
Politics was a fool's game. But when the sea had finally become intolerable he had to do something with himself. And Barbara had been pleased.
"We have met," Cochrane - Dundonald - oh, Cochrane, dammit, said coldly. "It was many years ago, but I have not forgotten." Or forgiven, his tone said.
"Those days are... long past," Hornblower said in an attempt at conciliation, although why he should be conciliating a man loathed by the whole of his wife's family, heaven knew.
"Before you married so well, of course," Cochrane said with significance. The loathing was mutual. "But I have never believed the passage of time alters the facts of any case. Good day, Mr. Barrow." The snub to Hornblower was pointed. Cochrane strode further into the building without another word.
He was right in a sense. Time did not alter the past, but it did alter men, and Hornblower was not the man he had been twenty-five years ago. Although there was no reason why Cochrane should like the one he was now any better.
"I'm sorry for that," the Second Secretary said with ready diplomacy, "Lord Dundonald is a brilliant man, but his manners leave something to be desired."
"That's quite all right," Hornblower said, "No blame to you."
Barrow, ever the perfect civil servant, asked no further questions and Hornblower volunteered no explanations. If asked he would have said that he counted John Barrow a friend, but he could not tell the Second Secretary what was in his heart now. There was no-one he could tell it to. There never would be.
*He holds me responsible for his cousin's disgrace and death. He's only half right. Archie was driven to a felon's grave, but not by me. I didn't know what he intended. I would have stopped him if I could. I loved him....*
*But I let his good name be destroyed. I doubt he'd have cared much for that, but I did, I did, and yet I let it happen. I called it my duty.*
*Archie would have defended my memory with every breath in his body. Cochrane would have spoken out even if there was no memory to defend. But I... did not. But not for advancement. Because I needed to believe my superiors were right. I couldn't adhere to them and to Archie. I made my choice, except I barely even realised I was choosing....*
*But I did know that when I dismissed justice as unimportant I rejected everything he believed. I set myself to be a man that he would not have liked at all. I believed that it was right, more than right, necessary. I had to believe that, or I could not have borne to keep my silence and serve those that had destroyed him.*
*So I had to support the cover-up over the Basque Roads business. I had to lie. I had to. Because if I ever accepted Cochrane was right, then it would mean that I'd been wrong. If exposing incompetence and corruption was justified then I'd betrayed Archie's memory, not for duty, but for nothing... worse than nothing....*
All long past, and what difference had it made? None to Cochrane: the outcome would have been the same whatever Hornblower had said. Probably none to Hornblower, those captains who had testified for Cochrane had not suffered, nor had Frank Austen, although as far as Hornblower knew his views had not reached Gambier's, or the Admiralty's, ears.
No difference except to his conscience - and perhaps his name. When the histories of this time were written some at least would see him as a man who sold his honour.
That was small penalty enough.
Keeping his silence Lord Hornblower left the Admiralty building.
**The End**
Endnote: It bears repeating that I have invented very little here. I would never have dared dream up Harvey's professional suicide or Gambier and his tracts, let alone the character and history of Thomas Cochrane. Most of the dialogue is fictional of course, but any court martial testimony that is given in quotation marks is real. The accounts I've read differ over whether Frank Austen was at the court martial, but his opinion of the Basque Roads action is certainly genuine, as is his connection with Gambier. He was the brother of Jane Austen the novelist.