So wrote the chancellor to Mr. Pitt, who replied in courteous language; for his chief puppet was jumping admirably: he would soon be battered and worn out--would then have to be replaced by another. But the doll was not past service yet--it was still gay and bright with paint; was still capable of dancing: so Mr. Pitt wrote civil letters to Lord Clare, bidding him not to stick at trifles. Thus supported, Lord Clare spoke clearly at the Council Board. Desperate diseases must be met with desperate remedies, he said. Arthegal, figure of justice in the Faery Queen, is armed with an iron flail. The people are furious, are they? Then they must be made more furious still. When you want to tame a lion do you pat him? No, or he would rend you. You strike him with whips--touch him with red-hot irons. To be governed he must be ruled by fear; and so is it with the people of this island. Having gone as far as we have, it will never do to show that we're afraid of them. They must be ground down--must be rendered so passive by exhaustion that, French or no French, they will be too weak to do much harm. In the first place we'll arrest those lads again who have been playing the fool too long. We will make a plunge at the leaders, so that if the Gauls should happen to arrive, they will find nobody in authority to co-operate with them. Lord Camden endorsed these sentiments, mumbling platitudes about self-preservation; that it has unpleasant duties, but that many unpleasant things have to be done, etc., etc., and the council broke up; my Lord Clare strutting forth to give his orders, Arthur Wolfe moving slowly homeward with a worn and troubled face. Then by deft hints and nods and winks, my Lord Clare brought those who served him to know what was expected of them. He rallied the members of the Houses on their nervousness. 'You wear his Majesty's uniform, my lords and gentlemen,' he said. 'I presume you would not wish to be mere carpet-knights. The Irish always were good fighters. You will defend the King's rights if it comes to a brush with the rabble?' He gave the squireens to understand that they were fine jovial fellows, with a strong sense of humour and a subtle appreciation of a practical joke. 'Now that recent invention of yours,' he observed airily, 'of wringing confession from a man by hanging him, then cutting him down before his soul has had time to escape, is vastly droll!'