penniless. He was a distant connection of the Hamiltons. He had gone on, en route for the Border, intending to call on his friend Sir Patrick Home of Polwarth, who would help him - having himself been incarcerated in Stirling Casde by the Privy Council some time before, for four years; Home had then gone to England but was now returned. Probably Baillie would still be at Polwarth, only a few miles from the Border. Perhaps if Andrew called in there, the two fugitives might go on together? Two men Scotland could ill afford to lose. They would be back, Andrew assured.
Part Two
5
Gilbert Burnet was a strange man, an extraordinary mixture, extraordinary indeed by any standards. Talented, cultured, handsome, amiable, broad-minded, he was yet strong-willed to a degree, all but obstinate, unafraid of giving offence in the highest places yet the gentlest of men in his personal relationships, utterly careless of his own advantage yet forever attracting offers of lofty position. Cadet of the ancient Deeside house of Burnet of Leys, son of a Lord of Session, he had been a Master of Arts of Aberdeen University before he was fourteen years, studied law, changed to divinity, licensed to preach at eighteen, a member of the Royal Society at twenty-one and Professor of Divinity at Glasgow at twenty-seven. Offered his choice of four Scots bishoprics at twenty-nine, he refused them all but chose to become a mere parish minister of Saltoun at thirty. There he stayed for five years, preaching twice of a Sunday, visiting the sick, tutoring the Fletcher brothers and writing his books, particularly his History of the Reformation, of both kingdoms. He was offered the first archbishopric vacant but again refused; and, hating the oppressions in Scotland under Lauderdale, removed to London in 1678. He was promptly offered a large city church, but, followed by Lauderdale's spleen, King Charles himself wrote to the congregation ordering them not to engage so dangerous a character. But the Master of the Rolls, no less, despite the royal displeasure, gave him charge of his private chapel, and gained him the Lectureship of St. Clements, with a house. There at St. Clements he remained, writing - and strangely, became the most sought-after preacher in London. And when his first volume of the History of the Reformation was published, received the thanks of both English Houses of Parliament.
This was the man, still aged only thirty-nine, who received with joy Andrew Fletcher and Robert Baillie at his St. Clements house that March day of 1683, to insist that they stayed there as his guests. Oddly enough, Baillie of Jerviswood was a connection by marriage, Baillie's wife being a niece of Burnet's mother. The fugitives, of course, emphasised that their presence must remain secret, if possible - and by the same token must therefore pose some risk to their host, if discovered. But Burnet would not hear of them going elsewhere. He owed his kinsmen shelter, he asserted; and he had always been particularly fond of his old pupil - on whom, of course, he had had an enormous influence. He approved most strongly of their present attitudes and must in consequence aid them in every way possible.
So they settled in at St. Clement's Lane, amongst the narrow, smelly London Thames-side streets. Andrew was able to write a letter to Henry, informing him that all was well, that there had been no sign of pursuit, that the journey down through England had been prolonged, uncomfortable but uneventful, and would he send him some money as soon as possible, for he was woefully short of clothing suitable for the kind of company Gilbert Burnet frequented. He also wrote three or four versions of a letter to Margaret Carnegie, but tore them all up and ended by merely asking Henry to convey his admiration and thanks and devotion to that young woman.
Burnet had an excellent source of information as to what went on in Scotland through none other than the Duke of Hamilton, who made a point of being kept up-to-date. The author's first book had been the Memoirs of the Duchess Anne; and he was now working on a companion-volume for the Duke. So he saw a lot of the Hamiltons and was able to keep his visitors apprised of much that transpired in that country. It seemed that the oppressions of the government grew ever more dire. The Duke of York, who had started out, not exactly by seeking popularity but by acting with seeming moderation and largely leaving political action and persecutions to the officers of state, even becoming a golf enthusiast on Leith Links like his grandfather, was now showing his true colours. There were more and more arrests and executions; edicts and orders flowed from Holyroodhouse, Catholics were promoted to high places, fervent Protestants brought low and the Test rigorously applied. No fewer than eighty Episcopalian ministers, mainly of Lauderdale's appointment, refused the Test and were ousted. The subsequent uprisings of the people were put down with a savagery hitherto unequalled - with Colonel Graham of Claverhouse the name which was apt to crop up most frequently as the greatest scourge, and in high favour with James Stewart. Indeed he was said to have been promised a seat on the Privy Council. Mackenzie, the Advocate, for his part, had been rewarded with the royal barony of Bute. And so on.
Scotland seemed a good place to be out of - but the exiles' anxieties for their kin and friends grew the more.
Not that conditions in England were so greatly better. With ever poorer health, the King's hidden Catholicism became ever more evident, and the English House of Commons, staunchly Protestant, grew ever the more restive. The House of Lords, with many more Catholics, was less so; but the Protestant lords were the more concerned in consequence; and in fact took the lead in agitation and protest. Plots and scares and secret groupings proliferated and talk was all of unconstitutional action, revolt and worse. The house of Stewart, which had survived for over three centuries, appeared to be lurching towards a fall.
Burnet, who had always been a King's man, however frequently he found himself in disagreement with the monarch, was pulled two ways in all this. He was a firm Protestant, but loth to turn against Charles Stewart. He was an upholder of freedom and hater of tyranny, but disapproved of violence and unconstitutional behaviour. When Charles had found it expedient to offer him the bishopric of Chichester, he had refused, but sent the King a specially-composed poem, expounding in notable verse the duties of kingship in a Protestant realm. He sought to remain friendly with men of all views and to avoid implication in politics - or so he declared. Nevertheless those close to him had no doubts as to where his heart lay. And Andrew Fletcher, whose own views had been so greatly moulded by the older man, who had had the rearing of him for five most formative years, knew better than most.
For all that, Andrew was surprised when, a week or so after their arrival, and with time already beginning to hang heavily, Gilbert Burnet asked his guests if they would like to accompany him to a meeting that evening? They need not worry, it would not be a public meeting; indeed a very private one. Those attending would be exceedingly discreet and trustworthy, and no risk to the fugitives be involved; but they might well find the occasion instructive and might in turn have the opportunity of instructing the others on conditions in Scotland, which might have some relevance to the proceedings.
Intrigued, they were glad to accede. Lying low was a dull business.
They had not far to walk, only two streets further west along Lombard Street, to Abchurch Lane, something of a backwater, where at a wine-merchant's establishment, by the name of Shepherd, they were led through a back-yard, amongst casks and barrels, and up a stair to the merchant's house. Climbing, Burnet asked them if they had heard of the Council of Six. It would have been strange if they had not. All England had heard of the Council of Six, reputedly the most lofty, influential and secret of the political groups and leagues which the present unhappy dynastic and governmental situation had thrown up. Just who the six were was a mystery - but they were highly-placed Protestants, inevitably. Scarcely able to believe their ears, that the allegedly inoffensive, non-political Dr. Burnet should be in a position to introduce them to such company, his charges marvelled.
Mr. Shepherd, a rubicund, bustling and very unplotterlike little man, ushered them into a large chamber, apparently part-office, part wine-tasting room, by the aroma and the many pails and flagons, where, beside a well-doing
coal-fire, four men sat at ease, glasses in hand. They were all of middle years, richly-dressed and assured of manner. They rose to greet the newcomers.
"Ah, Gilbert," one said, "here is a pleasure. We are always delighted when you will take wine with us."
"The privilege is all mine, my lords. May I present to you my friends from Scotland, of whom I informed you? Both lairds of substance and some renown, forced into exile."
"But not for long, I hope. Of both Mr. Baillie and Mr. Fletcher we have heard, of course. And quite recently - from my lord of Argyll, no less."
"I fear that you will have heard but little to my credit from the Campbell, sir!" Baillie said grimly. "I am Jerviswood. Argyll helped to fine me £6,000 none so long ago - for nonconformity!"
"You say so? A grievous imposition. But Argyll it seems has seen the light, if belatedly, and changed his tune. We have sent him on to Holland." The spokesman held out his hand. "I am Essex. And these are my lords Howard, Russell and Grey."
Impressed indeed, the visitors bowed. The Earl of Essex was one of the foremost noblemen of England, until recently indeed Viceroy of Ireland, and now Lauderdale's successor as First Lord of the Treasury. Lord William Russell, son of the Earl of Bedford, was one of the most famous parliamentarians of the day, leader of a large faction in the House of Commons. And Lords Howard and Grey were well-known peers, influential in the Upper House. If these were four of the Council, then its illustrious nature had not been exaggerated.
They were sat down, offered a choice of wines, and courteously but authoritatively questioned in detail about the Scottish situation, and especially the Duke of York's behaviour and activities. These men, it seemed, were particularly interested in any possible re-separation of the crowns, such as Fletcher had once suggested.
Andrew explained that this was not in any way a live issue, at present, in Scotland, although it was not infrequently spoken of. He had raised it in the convention more as a threat than anything else.
At this stage another gentleman arrived, proving to be none other than John Hampden M.P., another leader of the Commons, grandson of the famous Parliament general. He was a harsher man, less urbane and seemingly less pleased to see the visitors. He explained that he had been kept late at the House and would have to go back shortly, being down to speak in a debate which might go on into the small hours. With a doubtful glance at the Scots he asked if there was any word of The Sparrowhawk?
"He will be here," Russell said.
They were discussing the probable line-up and voting strengths in the Lords for and against the Exclusion Bill against the Duke of York, when the wine-merchant opened the door again to usher in the sixth member of the Council. And the others all rose to their feet with rather more alacrity than hitherto. Nor were Andrew and Baillie any more sluggish, when they perceived the identity of the newcomer. It was James of Monmouth.
If the Scots were astonished, having thought that the Duke was still in exile overseas, Monmouth seemed little less so on finding there Andrew Fletcher whom he had last spoken to in such very different circumstances in the Palace of Holyroodhouse. They greeted each other stiffly in consequence.
Burnet explained his friends' present state, although Monmouth did not feel called upon to explain his. But it transpired in the conversation thereafter that he was back in England secretly - although his father knew of it. Charles, however ailing, however frequent his blood-lettings and cuppings, appeared still to be playing a two-handed game.
Despite the doubtful glances of the two latest-come members, the other four were quite prepared to discuss their policies in front of the Scots exiles. It seemed that their principal preoccupation this evening was the possible setting-up of a regency. The King's state was precarious, his physicians' remedies growing ever more extreme, and these were weakening the monarch. He was still only fifty-three, but now scarcely in a fit state to reign - although he continued to pursue his pleasures with a sort of desperation. Since the Exclusion Bill had so far failed to pass the Lords, James Duke of York was still the legitimate heir to the throne. But if a regency could be established, and the King persuaded to yield the power to it, then the disaster of a Catholic monarch mounting a Protestant throne might be averted. The Regent, of course, should be Monmouth who was popular with the people, and Protestants - there was no other contender. Charles had innumerable other bastards but they were little more than children and he was not fond of them as he was of his firstborn. Could the King be persuaded to agree to this, even if he still refused to legitimate his son?
That young man, eyed by them all, hesitated. He started to say something and then seemed to change his mind. He just did not know, he said. His father was a strange man, all contradictions; and now in his sickness more unpredictable than ever. He knew that he was fond of himself, in his own erratic way -otherwise he would not have been allowed to return to England, even secretly. But there was clearly a grievous impediment about this matter of legitimation. The King would not consider it. No doubt it was something to do with the late Queen, Henrietta Maria, the King's mother. Also perhaps his own Queen, Catherine of Braganza. He held back, reluctant. And this attitude might equally affect his reception of the regency notion.
"There is some mystery here," Essex said. "We must seek to find out what it is."
"Could it not be the less mysterious?" Hampden put in bluntly. "That His Majesty.has all along been a secret Catholic? And holds back mainly because you, sir, are a Protestant? Now that he nears his end, deeming himself in danger of hell-fire if he does not play Rome's game?"
Monmouth frowned. "I do not know. He is not a religious man. And he has withheld this of legitimation for many years. Before he was ailing."
"What is important is not so much the reason as the fact," Russell said. "Is there no way by which we could persuade His Majesty to a regency? It would solve many problems."
"The King has always recognised his brother to be obstinate, injudicious, difficult," Gilbert Burnet put in. "I have heard him reprove His Royal Highness many times. Could you not play on that? Make much of what he is doing, or misdoing, in Scotland? The cruelties and persecutions. These took place under Lauderdale also, of course - but now it is the King's own brother doing it. Heir to the throne. Dividing the nation."
"Charles always supported Lauderdale," Hampden pointed out.
"But he is not a cruel or harsh man, in himself."
"May I speak?" Andrew said, eagerly. "If I may be so bold. Thank you. This of dividing the nation, the Scots nation. That may or may not grievously affect the King. But to divide the crowns - now, that would be a different matter! I think His Grace would do much to avoid that."
"But you said before, Mr. Fletcher, that this of the separation of the crowns again was not seriously considered, not a live issue?" Essex objected.
"It is not, my lord. But it might be made so. More important, could it not be used with the King? To help convince him that the Duke of York could in fact bring it about? He has, indeed, got his Succession Act through the Scots parliament. So if England did refuse him as monarch and Scotland does not, then the kingdoms are divided again."
"It could work the other way," Russell pointed out. "Make His Majesty more determined than ever that York be established in England, that the thrones be not divided."
"I think not, my lord." Andrew glanced at Monmouth to see how that man was taking this. "The King has sent his brother to Scotland, knowing his unpopularity here. He knows himself to be gravely ill. To make the Duke widely accepted in England would take long - and His Grace is unlikely to have that time. Moreover, I think that the Duke of York is not the sort to take kindly to seeking popularity."
"I agree," Howard said. "I think that it is worth a trial."
"Do you concur, my lord Duke?" Essex asked.
"I see no harm in it," Monmouth said slowly. "But do not ask me to put the issue before my royal father. He will only think that I invented it all, for my own purposes - whereas I would shed my blood to ke
ep the kingdoms united!"
Baillie opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again. He for one was no great believer in the United Kingdom.
Soon thereafter Burnet took his leave, with his charges. On the walk back to St. Clements he however expressed himself as well satisfied with the evening - odd, in one so deliberately non-political.
In the weeks that followed, the exiles, although they saw no more of the Council of Six, heard a great deal about sundry other groups and plots and alleged conspiracies; indeed London seemed to resound with such, almost farcically so. No doubt it was all a symptom of the general unrest and apprehension. But the stories circulating verged on the ridiculous. The various cabals gave themselves curious titles, which were duly whispered abroad, uttered dire threats about the Lopping Time and Striking at the Heart, referred to lofty personages as the Blackbird, the Goldfinch, the Churchwarden of Whitehall and so on. New drinking-toasts circulated and grew popular, such as 'Confusion to the Two Brothers, Popery and Slavery!' and 'To the Man who First Draws Sword in Defence of the Protestant Religion!'
Few could take all this seriously; but Gilbert Burnet for one feared serious repercussions from authority. That the Duke of York suddenly returned from Scotland, even if only temporarily, may not have been a result, but it certainly had the effect of further stimulating the unrest and the fears. The general assumption was that there would be major and unacceptable developments. Burnet said that his two lodgers must be prepared to take a hasty departure, probably across the Channel.
Then, at the beginning of June, all erupted. A city tradesman named Joseph Keeling, no doubt well paid to do so and an agent provocateur, announced, with names, a detailed plot to assassinate both the King and the Duke and to place Monmouth on the throne. This was the old story, but refurbished with dramatic and circumstantial particulars. Charles, despite his illnesses, was not to be denied his pleasures, or some of them, and had gone with his brother, by coach, to the racecourse at Newmarket. And, according to this Keeling, the royal coach was to be held up on the way back to London, at the farm of Rye House, owned by a veteran Cromwellian officer named Rumbold, with fifty armed men, and its occupants slain. But, as it happened, an accidental fire at the racecourse premises caused the King to return earlier than intended, and the alleged plot miscarried.
The Patriot Page 9
