The Wisest Fool

by Nigel Tranter

  Clearing his throat, Ellesmere came forward, to bend and whisper. "The Commons, Sire. The faithful Commons."

  "Ooh, aye—the Commons. Have them in, man."

  "His Majesty, James, by the Grace of God, King and Defender of the Faith, summons his faithful Commons to this place," the Chancellor declared in ringing tones. "My lords, you may be seated."

  As officials went in search of the members of the Lower House, who normally met in the Chapter-house of Westminster Abbey, James stared about him with interest, pointing out features of the building to the Queen and his son and comparing it unfavourably with the Parliament House in Edinburgh—which of course had to be sufficiently large to hold all three estates of Church, Lords, and burgh and landward representatives, met therein together in session, not separately as here. The King made these points in loud tones, for the edification of all.

  When at length, led by their Speaker, the Commons made their somewhat belated entrance—no doubt they likewise sought to establish their position and privileges—and the bowing process to the Throne commenced, the monarch smiled on them benignly, and waved a beringed hand.

  "James is in good fettle," Lennox observed. "He intends to enjoy his day, I can see. Whoever else does."

  "You think that there will be trouble?"

  'The possibility is never absent when our liege lord is about. But he is in good humour. All may be well."

  Before all three hundred-odd Commons finished shuffling into position in ranks at the back of the hall—there was no seating for most of them—James had had enough of waiting. He fished under his magnificent robe of state and found the speech which Cecil had prepared for him, straightened the crown on his head— he had a large head, as he said himself most apt for wearing a crown—and cleared his throat vehemently. When that failed to quell the hubbub and stir, he hawked again—Heriot feared for a moment that he was going to spit on the floor, as he had seen him do before this—and banged on the arm of his throne. This had the required effect. Of the firm conviction that wearying ceremonial should be cut to a minimum, he decided that Loyal Addresses and the like could be dispensed with and the meat of the business got down to. He licked moist lips and launched forthwith into action.

  "My Lord Chancellor, honourable representatives o' foreign princes and powers, my lords and faithful Commons," he declared thickly. "We salute and greet you warmly, on this the opening o' the first parliament o' our reign." That was as far as he read from Cecil's paper—which he then laid firmly aside by tossing it on the floor. "Aye, it's a new reign, to be sure," he went on, "but it's a deal mah'n that, you see. It's a new dispensation, no less. A mile-stane, aye, a milestane in history. And a fingerpost, forby. To point the way in this new situation. Much that's auld is by wi'— and well by wi'. Much o' enmity and bloodshed and foolish bickers. We mak a fresh start Experientta docet stultos."

  That was received in a wary silence.

  "Aye, well—here is a new kingdom, see you. No longer the Kingdom o' England. Nor yet o' Scotland. But the United Kingdom o' Great Britain, united in dynastic union in my royal person. And to be united hereafter in state, governmental and political union, indissoluble and for a' time coming."

  "No! You'll no' do it No! say!" a single voice cried loudly from the back of the hall—and it was a distinctly Scots voice, so that it could scarcely have been a Member of Parliament

  There was a horrified silence, and then uproar. Some applauded, some shouted at the in tempter; others, especially Puritan M.P.s, equally appalled at what the King had said about there being no longer a Kingdom of England, yelled their agreement with the protester; still others, upset at this wholesale departure from traditional ceremony into the realm of policy, exclaimed to each other. The Lord Chancellor, much agitated, held up his hands for silence and when that failed wrung them instead.

  James Stewart, to whom controversy, debate, argument, were as meat and drink, leaned forward eagerly in his chair, great eyes alight, letting the hubbub ride. Then, when he esteemed it sufficient, he flicked a quick glance and nod at his principal trumpeter, who stood nearby at the ready. The subsequent bugle-blast brought down dust from the hammer-beam roof and stilled every voice.

  Into the hush James spoke genially enough. "I'll do it, to be sure. Och, aye—I'll do it As is right and proper and my Christian duty, in Church as in State. Aye, we'll hae an end to disorders. This my realm maun be one realm. You canna hae me, the King and Christ's Vice-Regent, reigning at the one time ower twa warring and divided kingdoms. I am the husband, see you, and this whole island is my wife. I am the heid and it is my body. I the shepherd and it my flock. And flocks and bodies—aye, and wives too, should be dutifu'." He cast a roguish glance at the Queen, and leaned over to poke her in the ribs with his padded elbow.

  Anne managed to retain an admirable impassivity of appearance.

  Warming to this pleasing and vital theme, James went on, saliva copious. "I am hoping, therefore, nae man will be sae unreasonable, aye unreasonable, as to jalouse that I, who am a Christian king under the Gospel, should be a polygamist and husband o' twa wives! Or that I, being the heid, shall hae a monstrous arid divided body. Or that, being the shepherd to sae fair a flock— whose worth hath nae wall to hedge it in but the four seas— should hae my flock pairted in twa 1 Na, na—that wouldna do. A union there'll hae to be. One state, one church, one parliament, one law. You'll proceed to establish this great matter in this your first parliament, my lords and Commons. That's the first thing."

  There was a spontaneous outcry now from all sides of the hall, as the shaken legislators took in what was being commanded. Having just learned how to upraise their voices in the royal presence—a thing they would never have dared hitherto—they gave tongue vigorously.

  "Sakes—had you any notion that he was going to do this?" Heriot demanded of the Duke.

  "No. He has talked often of the need for a union, a political union. But to thrust it down their throats, thus ..! He'll have them all against him, all the factions, English and Scots both. Look at Cecil there—he's fit to burst! Look at old Nottingham-aye, look at all the Howards ! And the Chancellor ..."

  "It is the Commons I'm looking at! They are not going to like this. Any of them. They don't want to be tied to Scotland. They will not share their privileges and wealth with us—in trade and colonies and monopolies. They consider us beggars, paupers, all but savages ! And the Puritans will never agree with the Presbyterians, any more than with James's bishops. He may win over or bribe a sufficiency of the lords—but he'll never cudgel the Commons into doing his will. Certainly not by telling them what they must do and they must not, like this."

  'Yet—look at what he has already achieved. The man is impregnable. Knows that he is right..."

  James stopped the noise again, with his trumpeter. Now he wagged a minatory finger, the diamonds of his rings catching the light. "Ower much noise," he said. "I'll no' have it Debate is good and right But aequam memento rebus in arduis servare mentem ! A' this din isna suitable. Like the braying o' asses ! Your turn to speak will come. Meantime, you hear me, James."

  Despite the drooling and the slobbers and the flapping hand, the sheer authority in that was extraordinary. None raised voice to contest it

  "Aye, well. You've mair'n the union to see to, this session-plenties mair. There's to be peace wi' Spain. Aye, peace. I'll hae nae mair wars and bickers wi' my princely neighbours in Christendom. Or elsewhere, forby. War is no' only wicked, it's the business o' fools ! And costly—aye, right costly, as you should ken! My Treasury is empty—empty, d'you hear? Its siller squandered on wars wi' Spain and Ireland. This England's bled white—aye, white as well as red! That's to end. Scotland's no' at war wi' either, nor yet wi' France. My United Kingdom willna be—and you'll a' profit in your pockets, I promise you! I've given orders, as is my divine right, that a' hostilities at sea cease forthwith—there's nane on land the now, anyway—for I've never been at war wi' Spain, and couldna become so by merely inheriting this Eng
lish throne. Aye, and a Spanish ambassador is being received at my Court o' St. James—as at my Court o' Holyroodhouse. And one frae the Pope o' Rome, too. Aye, and the Earl o' Tyrone, the Irish leader-mannie, will grace my Court also. Parliament will draw up a' the necessar papers and the like."

  The stir this time was more in the nature of a long, low growl-in fact more frightening. But clearly James Stewart did not find it so. Licking his lips, he proceeded on his appointed way.

  "Anent matters o' the Church you here assembled hae nae business. That's my affair, as heid o' the Church, in consultation wi' my bishops. You'll hae heard tell I had a bit conference at yon Hampton Court—I dinna like the name Nonsuch—wi' the churchmen. That’s a' by wi'—but it is fitting, aye fitting, that you ken what's what, and that in matters spiritual this realm is now in guid hands. The bishops and mysel' are agreed right well." And he waved a conciliatory hand towards the benches of the Lords Spiritual. "There will be one Church in this United Kingdom, of which Christ is the Heid and I am His Regent—as is right and proper. I will settle bishops in Scotland—for the Scots Presbytery as well agrees wi' a monarch as God and the Devil! If they had their way then Jack and Tom and Will and Dick shall meet and at their pleasure censure me and my Council, and say it maun be this or that! Ooh, aye—we'll put an end to that! But there's bickering and unseemly strife too, see you, wi' the Puritans and Novelists on the ane hand, and the Catholics and Jesuits on the other. Aye, even in your parliament, so they tell me. Weel—that's to cease. I'll no' have it Quiet, you! I hae just put down a Catholic against my life and crown—aye, and what did parliament or my faithfu' Commons do to save me, heh? I may procure peace wi' the Pope, and welcome a Papal ambassador—but there, will be no Catholic faction and cabal in my realms, no nor Catholic public worship either. But nor will there be Puritan. In private, see you, it's different, aye different A man must can follow his conscience in matters o' religion—let there be nae doubt about that But public worship is otherwise. Persecution is one o' the infallible notes o' a false Kirk, and I will never agree that any should die for error in faith—as distinct frae treasonable attempts on my royal person, you'll ken. But one Church there shall be. The Holy Scriptures will be written oot again, plainly in guid English for a' to read and understand. And I'll expect this parliament to aid me in a', as is its bounden duty, nae less."

  The commotion which followed differed from the earlier interruptions, as no doubt was intended, with men starting to argue with each other rather than railing at the King.

  "That was cunning," Lennox said. "There was no call to introduce religion here. He did that of a purpose, I swear, to set man against man, Catholic against Puritan, Puritan against churchman, Scot against English. So they are less able to unite against himself. He has not forgotten what he learned in Scotland. This is as good as a play-acting !"

  "But dangerous," Heriot averred.

  James gave this particular dose of his medicine more time to act, and then raised his hand for quiet. "I hae one final matter to express my royal will upon," he declared, jabbing an accusatory finger before him. "I am displeased, maist displeased, at the lack o' proper provision, in moneys and funds, made for mysel' and my family and household. I came frae Scotland to this England, as your due liege lord and sovereign prince—and find the Treasury empty, the realm in debt and no right maintenance, purvey and resource made for my sustenance and upkeep, and the support o' my Court and household. This was ill done. Och, a wheen great lords hae put their hands in their pouches—their deep pouches, aye—to our royal aid. But—would you hae your monarch a pauper in this rich land? Living on the charity o' lords? And Sir Robert Cecil, whom it has been my pleasure to create the Viscount o' Cranborne for leal service, has done much, right worthily. But it is parliament, they tell me, which insists, aye insists, that a' matters o' money and supply are its affair. And parliament has done nary a thing. I have been near a year here in England—and parliament hasna even met. Ooh, aye—for fear o' the plague, you tell me! But if my parliament insists on keeping a grip o' the purse strings—and, and interfering in plans o' my ain for the provision o' moneys by knighthood—then my parliament will hae to recollect its duties. We are displeased."

  The silence was now profound.

  The King sat back, as though he had said his piece, with no more to add, straightened his crown again, crossed his legs, fiddled with his cod-piece beneath his robe and considered the golden buckle of his shoe. Then, almost as an afterthought he added, "Mind, parliament canna insist on anything, wi' me, James. Any authority, right and privilege it has, to meet, pronounce or even to exist, depends on my royal permission, good will and favour. Naught else. If you doubt me, consult your judges o' the courts, my courts. Under God, I am King, absolute and without contradiction. Aut Caesar aut nullusl The King reigns, and the King-in-parliament rules, aye. But tak the King out o' parliament and what is left? Whereas the King can rule lacking parliament-aye, and has done these five years. So—my revenues are the prerogative o' none save myself'. If I permit that parliament arranges them for me, then parliament must mak them adequate. Aye, adequate." James nodded, found it difficult with his crown, and took it off. "My stick," he said. Then he smiled round, with a sort of qualified benevolence. "Aye, then. Enough's enough. My faithfu' Commons can go back to their ain place."

  There was considerable agitation at this abrupt ending of a unique interlude. The Speaker of the House of Commons was due to deliver an address of grateful thanks to the Throne for a gracious opening speech. But what he had come prepared to say hardly corresponded with the realities of the royal lecture received; moreover, the King, stick recovered, had already clapped on his high hat again and was obviously about to leave. Catching the Lord Chancellor's eye, the Speaker hurried a few steps forward, bowed deeply, and launched into a brief and entirely formal vote-of-thanks, courteous and restrained though somewhat gabbled.

  James, on his feet, nodded agreeably, told his Annie to come on, and set off for the door at a fair pace. Hastily the Yeomen of the Guard raced, passing through the midst of all and sundry unceremoniously to get there first The parliament of 1604 was opened.

  "God save the King!" the Duke of Lennox, in the Throne Gallery, declared. "Although, to tell truth, I do not know that divine aid is necessary I God save the parliament might be more apt"

  But Heriot shook his head. "They will have to come to terms, these two," he said. "King and parliament This will not serve. James will never browbeat parliament for long. In Scotland that was possible. There the King was part of parliament, sat in it, debated with it, could dominate it—as well as arrange that his own men controlled it Here that is not possible. He can only open and prorogue parliament—he cannot sit in it He may dominate the Lords. But, his person removed from the company, he cannot control the English parliament for long."

  "You may be right But it is also true what James said. That without him parliament had no authority. It is King-in-parliament that rules."

  "Authority, no. But influence, a vast deal. That is what I say— they need each other, and so must come to terms, one day." "Not this session, I swear!"

  9

  THE HILLS WERE hazy blue on every hand in the early August sunshine, the heather was beginning to purple, and the corn to yellow in the valley floors as the two friends rode pleasantly up the wide and fertile vale of Strathearn, with a trio of armed grooms well behind, all the Highland Line ahead of them. The swallows darted, the bees hummed amongst the meadow-sweet, a pair of buzzards circled on seemingly motionless pinions high above, and all was for the moment well with their world. London and the Court seemed very far away, almost in another life—and one which neither by any means pined for. Had they asked themselves seriously why indeed they continued to put up with such a life, when they both could, in fact, have opted out of it, defying royal displeasure, undoubtedly each would have been hard put to it to answer adequately. Mere men are all to apt to find themselves in such a position, when they pause for a moment t
o think about it George Heriot had been up in Scotland for nearly a month. His business in Edinburgh was still large and demanding of periodic visits, with his half-brother James only a competent but unimaginative manager. With hundreds of thousand of pounds Scots on loan, and many estates held as security, most careful vigilance and over-sight was necessary. James Heriot was well enough for looking after the jewellery and small loan side of the enterprise; but the estate and nobility side of it had him floundering.

  Ludovick of Lennox, on the other hand, had only just arrived from England, sent up by the King—or, more truly, only allowed to come up, as he was ever wishing to do, by James, as suitable escort to bring South the little Prince Charles, now considered sufficiently strong to stand the journey and join his parents. A doctor and an apothecary had been sent up with him, to minister to the prince, and these had been dispatched directly to the Lord Fyvie's house at Dunfermline Abbey while the Duke made a detour to Methven to see Mary Gray and his son. In Edinburgh, he had persuaded Heriot to accompany him.