“The best,” said the president. “We have a head-centre here, Citizen Desmond, who will give you the most recent and the most authentic intelligence on that head.”
“The whole country is organized,” said the head-centre; “we could put three hundred thousand men in the field at any time in a fortnight. The movement is not sectarian; it pervades all classes and all creeds. All that we want are officers and arms.”
“Hem!” said the general; “and as to your other supplies? Any scheme of commissariat?”
“There will be no lack of means,” replied the head-centre. “There is no country where so much money is hoarded as in Ireland. But, depend upon it, so far as the commissariat is concerned, the movement will be self-supporting.”
“Well, we shall see,” said, the general; “I am sorry it is an Irish affair, though, to be sure, what else could it be? I am not fond of Irish affairs: whatever may be said, and however plausible things may look, in an Irish business there is always a priest at the bottom of it. I hate priests. By-the-by, I was stopped on my way here by a cardinal getting into his carriage. I thought I had burnt all those vehicles when I was at Rome with Garibaldi in ‘48. A cardinal in his carriage! I had no idea you permitted that sort of cattle in London.”
“London is a roost for every bird,” said Felix Drolin.
“Very few of the priests favor this movement,” said Desmond.
“Then you have a great power against you,” said the general, “in addition to England.”
“They are not exactly against; the bulk of them are too national for that; but Rome does not sanction—you understand?”
“I understand enough,” said the general, “to see that we must not act with precipitation. An Irish business is a thing to be turned over several times.”