"His Grace the King has sent a message to this Convention," he announced. "Surely this ought to be heard before we go any further? Do you wish to read it, or shall I, my lord of Dundee?"
"King William has also sent a letter. By myself," Hamilton declared, his first remark thus far. "I insist that it be read before James Stewart's."
"That would be quite improper, my lord Duke," Mackenzie asserted. "Dutch William may be King of England but he is not yet King of Scots. James is."
"Let him read it first, if so he desires - the result will be the same!" Dundee said, shrugging - to the surprise of many, not least Andrew Fletcher.
Hamilton took it as his right, produced the letter, and holding it this way and that, as though the writing was not of the best, began to read. He was not a very good reader and sounded bored from the start, so that the thing scarcely gripped the company. Yet it was a fair enough message, reasonable and moderate. William greeted all Scots subjects warmly, asserted that his dearest aspiration was to make them a just, fair and merciful monarch, promised to secure the Protestant religion and the ancient laws and liberties of the kingdom and emphasised that a union of the two realms of Scotland and England was the best means for procuring the happiness and welfare of both. He commended all who heard to God's good keeping and prayed that His wisdom might inform their proceedings. If it all rather seemed to lack the fire and challenge which the occasion warranted, perhaps that was the fault of the reader.
The Williamites now could not object to James's communication being heard likewise. Dundee indicated that Mackenzie should read it. The Lord Advocate, of course, was eloquent and a skilled reader and pleader, with a musically sibilant Highland voice. He did his best. But nothing would make that royal message anything other than it was, the dogmatic, unyielding pronouncement of a man utterly convinced that he was God's deputy/undoubted ruler by divine right, and that no question arose or could arise as to his authority as King of Scots. He announced that he expected all loyal and faithful subjects to condemn the base example of disloyal men, and emphasised the dangers which they must needs undergo if they failed to do so; and the infamy and disgrace that they would thereby bring upon themselves in this world, and the condemnation due to the rebellious in the next. He commended all loyal subjects, assured them that his help was at hand, and promised indemnity to the mistaken and disloyal who had the good sense to declare for him by the end of this month at the latest. For all others, the direst of penalties.
Andrew, listening and watching, was as astonished as most others at the blind, arrogant assurance of this man who had failed so utterly and yet continued to act the victor, who appeared to have learned nothing by his misfortunes. Eyeing John Graham, as Mackenzie read, he was sure that he detected an unease in that normally confident-seeming character. He, almost certainly, would have preferred to have left that letter unread.
The company sat silent, thereafter, for moments on end. Then an almost animal-like growling began and grew, containing its own threat and menace. As that growling became more like a sustained snarl, Dundee beat on the table with his fist.
"For your further information," he cried, "hear this. I have just had word that King James has landed in Ireland, at Kinsale, with 15,000 French troops lent by King Louis. With more to follow. Everywhere the Irish are rising in his support and are throwing out Dutch William's friends. Soon all Ireland will be his. He has called on the old Irish Parliament to meet. Then -he will come to Scotland! Give him a month or six weeks, he says . . . !"
After that bombshell and the tone of James's message, William's moderate letter, however fair in comparison, seemed the less impressive or inspiring. And there seemed to be nobody prominent on William's side, just then, capable of producing the required fire and inspiration. The one man who might have done it, possibly, was sitting quietly in an obscure corner, having had to promise not to open his mouth.
"I invite the Marquis of Atholl now to assume the Chancellor's chair," Dundee went on, after a pause, grimly.
"No!" That was Hamilton, the reverse of fiery, cold, stiff but sufficiently determined. "I refuse to accept your authority so to do, sir. You have no authority here, save as one Lord of Parliament. And even that is doubtful, since James Stewart had forfeited the Scots throne by misgovernment, and the breaking of his coronation-oath, before he made you viscount! I shall preside, on King William's instructions."
The platform-party glared at each other.
"A vote, then. A vote," two of them said, almost in the same breath - the two lawyers.
The cry was taken up from various quarters of the hall and, significantly, from protagonists of both factions.
Dundee shrugged.
Dalrymple raised hand, "A vote, then. Those who would wish the Duke of Hamilton to preside, show."
Amidst much excitement, now that the test was come, not only hands shot up but men jumped to their feet, making the counting the more difficult. Eventually it was decided that eighty-six were voting for Hamilton.
Andrew, trying to count the abstainers, could not be sure that eighty-six would be sufficient.
But when the Atholl votes were taken, they proved to add up to only seventy-one. Shouts for a recount produced the same total. The Williamites had a majority of fifteen.
In a din of ringing cheers and angry shouts the Duke moved to the Chancellor's chair and sat down.
Dalrymple bowed to the chair, and turning, moved off down to his place in the body of the hall. After a moment or two of hesitation, Atholl and Mackenzie did likewise. That left only Dundee standing beside Hamilton, who turned to stare at him coolly.
"Will you take your seat, my lord," he directed.
"I will not," Graham answered, quietly but firmly. "As the King's representative, I cannot accept this vote, your authority or the validity of any proceedings under such direct denial of the royal prerogative. I shall leave this hall, and thereby remove any further competency from this assembly. It is no longer a Convention of the Estates, merely a gathering of individuals - too many of whom are in manifest and open disobedience to their monarch and so guilty of the crime of treason. I shall, however, seek to ensure that the royal authority is otherwise and vigorously enforced." And turning on his spurred heel, he marched to the door by which he had entered, and out.
For an appreciable interval there was a hushed pause. Then some few of the Jacobite members rose to follow the example of Dundee. But Atholl, perceiving it, turned, rose and gestured, finding his voice at last.
"Do not leave," he urged. "Or the King's cause could go by default. We need to speak for him. Even if we cannot here win a vote."
"The voting is altogether unsound," another voice cried -that of the Archbishop of Glasgow. "Many are not present who should be - because of wrongful and wicked constraint! My lords of Crawford and Cardross are imprisoned in their town-lodgings by the mob. Most of my brothers-in-Christ, the bishops, dare not venture into the streets, or leave their own sees, for fear of rabbling. Other supporters of King James likewise. The Chancellor himself is unlawfully immured. The Earl of Balcarres, new-returned from England, likewise. It is all a shameful travesty of justice, I say. Had all who should be here been able to come this day, the vote would have gone quite the other way, I vow!"
"Sit down, Curate-master!" somebody shouted. "How many better men, who should have been here now, lie beneath the sod because of you and your like!"
"Aye - and what of Graham's dragoons?" another challenged. "He rode here with sixty of them in his tail. No doubt they are out there still, waiting for us! I had to push my way through them to get in, as did others. They spat on me!"
"The Papist Duke of Gordon is not here to vote," a third pointed out. "Why? Because he holds Edinburgh Castle against us, his cannon trained on this hall . . . !"
Hamilton banged on the table with the Chancellor's gavel. "Silence! Enough, I say! This is a Convention of the Estates, not a packmen's fair! All will be done in due order, all speech addressed to and through
myself. I warn all, and shall not warn again, but will call officers to eject offenders." He stared around him, almost with distaste at all he saw. "Now - to business. In effect, this Convention has but the one task and duty - to decide on the destination of the Scottish crown. Sufficiently important, none will deny. But important and fateful as it is, it should not take us long, I think. James Stewart has forfeited all right to that crown by his actions. A successor must be offered it, in his place. There is but one successor evident and apparent - William, already King of England. He is not yet King of Scots, for reasons of our ancient laws and customs. We have it in our power to make him so. But - since this is a matter of law and legalities and I am no lawyer, it had better be put to you by one who is. I call upon the Lord President Dalrymple." That was a long speech for one usually curtly sparing in words.
To cheers and groans Dalrymple rose. "My lords and friends," he began, "for those not conversant with constitutional law, it may be proper to explain the differences in this matter between ourselves and our English neighbours. Our Estates of Parliament have a different history, background and function from their two Houses of Lords and Commons. Ours is only one, and stems from the ancient Celtic polity, from the Council of Mormaors or the Seven Earls, later enlarged and made more representative of the realm at large. But losing nothing of its original powers and authority. In it, the King should preside in person, as does a chief in his clan-council - to which it is indeed related, a supreme clan-council. The English Parliament is of Norman-French origin and quite different. The King does not attend it. There are many other differences, most of which need not concern us here . . ."
Hamilton cleared his throat loudly, indicating eloquently that that was enough of that.
Shrugging, Dalrymple took the hint. "To the point, then. The English Parliament cannot lawfully forfeit the occupant of the throne. They can seek to force him to abdicate. If he will not do so, then they can unlawfully cut off his head, as they did with King James's father, although against Scots wishes! Or they can, with almost equally doubtful legality, declare him abdicate by having voluntarily deserted his kingdom. As they have done with James . . ."
"Unlawful! Shameful! The act of renegades!" sundry Jacobites cried.
"Perhaps. But that is not our concern today. Our position is quite otherwise. We can forfeit the monarch. The Council of Mormaors and Earls had always to appoint the King. From one of the ruling-house, yes - but they appointed. And whom they appointed they could, in theory, forfeit. The great Bruce himself admitted as much, in the famous Declaration of Independence at Arbroath in 1320. That declares directly that if the King, even one so heroic, should fail to defend the people's safety and liberties, he should be removed and the people make another King. This is the law of this land, and this Council of the Estates can so declare, forfeit and replace. No need to call for an abdication. We have but to declare the crown forfeit by James, for due and sufficient reason - in especial the breaking of his coronation-oath to maintain the Protestant religion. And to offer it to a successor chosen by us, of the royal blood. William's mother was a Stewart princess, as is his wife."
Into the noise Hamilton banged on the table. "Sufficiently
clear," he asserted. "Our right is plain. We have a decision to make. In due form. Does anyone so propose?"
A score of lords were on their feet at once, clamouring for the privilege. From amongst them the Duke chose Archibald, tenth Earl of Argyll, son and grandson of executed earls. A better-looking man than either of those, MacCailean Mor put forward the formal motion that King James of Scots had forfeited the crown and should be replaced by William of Orange, presently King of England. All the other would-be proposers remained on their feet, to second it.
Flatly, Hamilton asked if there was any counter-motion.
Atholl rose, and with every Jacobite in the hall shouting support, his words were lost in the clamour.
"Vote," the Duke said, to the clerks. "The counter-motion first."
A new voice spoke up strongly, that of a heavily-built man of middle years, Sir James Montgomery of Skelmorlie, a cadet of the house of Eglinton.
"My lord Duke - before we agree this motion and offer the crown to William, let us pause for a moment. I am wholly in favour of William. But let us consider. Scotland has suffered much since her monarchs removed themselves to London — misgovernment, ignoring our liberties, rule by favourites, outright tyranny, and the like. King William in his letter promises to observe our rights and laws, as King James did not. But ought we not to make these clear? The English drew up a Bill of Rights before they gave William their crown. We should do no less. It is a notable opportunity. We are in a position of strength, the like of which we may never have again. Let us not throw it away by too easy an offer. Let us at least set out our own conditions for good government and the maintenance of our ancient freedoms, in our message to William."
A murmur of agreement arose from various quarters, muted at first, then growing, swelling.
Andrew sat back in his seat, thankfully. For the last few minutes he had been clenching his fists tensely in a fever of agitation lest this great chance was neglected. It had been only with the most stern self-control that he had prevented himself from calling out, promises or none.
From the lords' benches Johnnie Belhaven rose. "If that is accepted as another counter-motion, I second," he said.
"I, too, urge all here to support such prudent provision," Surprisingly, that was James's Archbishop of Glasgow.
There was a pause whilst men considered the implications, especially in view of that last contribution, Hamilton drumming his finger-tips on the table. Clearly there was considerable backing for Montgomery amongst the Williamites; and if the Jacobites chose to follow the Archbishop's lead, even if only for purposes of delay, the counter-motion could be carried.
"To decide upon and draw up such conditions would take time," he observed, at length.
"What matters a day or two?" Johnnie demanded.
"King William wishes no delay," the Earl of Lothian asserted. "Such matters can be negotiated later. I say vote."
The Lord Melville, home from his Dutch exile, seconded.
The Duke frowned. With William's supporters divided, James's, throwing in their numbers, could seem to win. He made up his autocratic mind.
"Very well - I shall allow time for this matter to be considered by all and proposals listed. I therefore adjourn this Convention until two days hence, at noon." He rose, without further remark, and stalked to the door.
Thus, unexpectedly, the session came to an abrupt end, men staring at each other uncertainly.
As movement began, Andrew made his way through the throng to speak with Sir James Montgomery.
That evening, in Penston's Tavern in the High Street, the upper room was crowded - and with a very different clientele from its normal bibulous citizenry. The wine flowed, yes; but its drinkers were without exception men of standing, lords, lairds and lawyers, most of them commissioners of the Convention -although not all, for Andrew Fletcher and a few others were amongst the company. Indeed it was Andrew and Montgomery who had organised the gathering, carefully inviting only men of wide and progressive views; mainly Whigs inevitably but some with no political affiliations save a known love of their country, although there were no actual Jacobites amongst them. What they had in common was a dissatisfaction with the way that the Convention was being managed and a determination that matters must be improved.
Andrew in fact took the lead, once all were assembled and their glasses and tankards filled. "We have asked you all to come to this tavern, rather than to any private lodging, for good and sufficient reason and purpose," he announced. "In the state in which we find the city and country, to meet in any man's house might well cost that man and his womenfolk dear, either from Dundee's dragoons, other Jacobite supporters or the town mob - which is quite out-of-hand and knows not friend from foe. So much for a leaderless nation!"
Cries of heartfelt agr
eement greeted that, for none could be unaware of the dangers of the streets, with wild rumours rife, no authority acceptable by all, the worst elements coming to the surface inevitably, a broken and unpaid army loose in the town and Dundee breathing threatenings and slaughters whilst the castle's canon were loaded day and night and aimed down upon the city streets in the name of King James. Prudent folk stayed at home, behind barred doors, and even great lords who seldom moved about without a tail of a dozen or two armed retainers, went warily. In consequence, there was a poorer attendance tonight than hoped for, only about a score present.
"We meet behind closed doors, then, necessarily," he went on. "And by the same token, what we may say must remain secret meantime, lest any or all suffer. So care was taken as to who was invited. We are in each other's hands, gentlemen - and this city is full of informers. If I seem too fearful, to overstate matters, recollect my own position - and therefore your own. I am still a forfeited outlaw and condemned felon. Most of you are magistrates, and know that everyone associating with me therefore commits an offence which could be punishable by death! This under King James's laws - and James is still lawful King of Scots. So I bid you to think well - and if you prefer to leave, do so now."
There was some talk but no leaving.
Montgomery took over, a baronet of ancient lineage but a shrewd lawyer. "So we must be agreed, my friends, that what we have to discuss and decide here, and possibly at other such meetings, is sufficiently important to warrant taking these risks. I say that it is. All know that we have reached a crossroads in the affairs of our nation and are about to make a notable change of direction. But it is clear that too many do not perceive the wise path to take in that direction — or care not -and so may well lead us along the wrong route. And we have been on wrong routes for too long! It is our task, our duty I say, to try to ensure that the right road is taken. Most of us here sit in the Convention. Yet we see that the Convention is likely to fail the nation. So we must plan how we may influence it for the right."
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