A Question of Loyalties

by Josephine Bell

  ‘His Highness plans a desirable course,’ Laurence Hyde insisted. ‘But it will not succeed. The Scottish earls even more than the chiefs of the clans, and they are often the same men, will take no direction from a Papist, even though the Plot hath never smeared the kingdom of Scotland with its murderous filth.’

  ‘Indeed there are many Catholics here who go unharmed,’ Colonel Legge protested.

  ‘And a Church of Scotland that is Presbyterian,’ John added.

  They were agreed that the Duke must be humoured to keep his thoughts from his lost pomp and importance at Whitehall. John pressed for primitive operations against the more blood-thirsty clans. Anything, he felt, to allow him to exercise his true profession.

  ‘I cannot endure forever these futile, ceaseless missions abroad,’ he complained to Sarah in the privacy of their home, a cold, dour, grey-faced tall house not far from the castle on its rock. ‘I hate to leave you, my dearest love, when you are so lately past your danger. I hate to leave that little red-faced shrimp, my daughter.’

  ‘You shall not insult our Hariote!’ Sarah told him laughing. ‘And you know these last weeks you would rather have been anywhere than at home with the women keeping you away from me before and after the event.’

  It was true he had been excluded from all direct contact with his wife but had endured it as desirable, remembering Sidney’s catastrophe and terrified it might be repeated.

  ‘At least if I chase robbers and murderers in, the western isles and mountains I shall be able to send you letters and have your answers within days, not months,’ he said, embracing her tenderly.

  But his hopes of early military employment were not fulfilled. That work was assigned to Colonel Legge, while John was sent off once more to the capitals of Europe in search of money for his Master. He had to plead the poverty of the latter’s royal, Catholic person, exiled from a land where Protestant bigotry was raging so fiercely that his life and that of his family were in danger.

  The family note came to an end, unhappily, when both the Princess Isabella and her young brother died of illnesses brought on, the Duchess was convinced, by the terrible journey to Edinburgh from Brussels, where they had been living so happily until Charles’s sudden illness drove the Duke from her side.

  None the less John could find no satisfaction in his hopeless efforts. True, he established his personal importance in several European countries. He enlarged his personal knowledge of many miles of countryside in northern France, the Netherlands, Luxemberg and Denmark. All this brought profits to him and his career in the future. But he had to go back to Scotland with empty expressions of sympathy and no bonds or cash. His failure abroad was matched, he found, by James’s failure at home.

  For the Duke’s effort to subdue the unruly elements in Scottish society and promote peace, security and progress in all parts of the country, had been a dismal failure. In Fife, that agricultural gold-mine, and to a lesser degree in the Lothians, where the seats of learning attracted professional men, where trade through the Firth of Forth could find a secure outlet, some additional order did prosper. But beyond these parts attempts at violent control brought an even more savage response. Its was useless for James to attempt to send unruly spirits forcibly to the New World. They took to the hills and the heather, or if captured and embarked, for the most part escaped and returned, even from the other side of the Atlantic.

  As the Duke found himself impoverished and always unsuccessful, so his temper became more coldly savage, more set upon revenge. Neither Hyde nor Legge nor Churchill could do anything to control his ill-devised projects. John, in any case, already exhausted by the failure of his missions abroad, was saddened by the loss of little Hariote, who died when only a few months old.

  ‘They never live!’ Sarah sobbed in his arms. ‘They cannot live in this wilderness, this icy wilderness of Scotland. Her Highness hath lost both those pretty babes. She suffers and prays and is patient. I cannot copy her!’

  ‘We must, my dear love, we must. God is good. We must believe it.’

  Sarah knew it would be blasphemy to deny this, but in her heart she asked herself again and again why her child had been too weak to master what had seemed a common looseness of the bowels. Why had it grown worse, with vomiting joined? Why had the wet nurse’s own child suffered, but only slightly? Why did the physicians do nothing to help? And why, oh why, had her sister-in-law Arabella, now the happy contented Lady Gregory, succeeded in bringing up her children of sin without trouble of any kind? God’s ways were, indeed mysterious, Sarah told herself bitterly.

  The Churchills longed to return to the south, but this was impossible. John still depended wholly upon the Duke for his living. The King’s insistence upon keeping England from taking any part in Europe’s wars prevented all his eager young officers from exercising their talents in real warfare. They must wait and hope. In John’s case the frustration was made worse by his growing lack of confidence in his Master, who was proving day by day his inability to rule. It was a sour, unhappy outlook for the future, when this most unpopular heir to the throne would succeed his brother.

  Meanwhile James continued to blast his own reputation. He realised that most of the Scottish nobles were against him, though they did not express their views in public. Only the Earl of Argyll spoke plainly, qualifying his acceptance of James’s revised Test of loyalty. For this James accused the Earl of treason and managed to have him brought to trial, where he was convicted and sentenced to death.

  Laurence Hyde was frantic. ‘His Highness is more like to bring about his own death than that of the Earl,’ he confided to John. ‘I have heard threats that I know to be serious.’

  ‘Pray heaven I be not asked to guard either of them’ John answered. ‘I can keep Holyrood safe for the Duke, but he insists upon going out to hunt in the hills. He rides daily about Arthur’s Seat. He inspects the garrison at the Castle, where Argyll is held.’

  ‘I have heard the King treats my Lord Argyll’s fault lightly. He will reprieve him and that will incense the Duke further.’

  John could only agree. But his chief anxiety was relieved when James sent him again to Whitehall to implore Charles’s permission for his return. Together, the Duke pleaded through his envoy, they could defy the rebel Whigs under Shaftesbury and the revolutionary mobs who still claimed Catholic martyrs. Together, with the help of their strong, trained army, they could defeat all their enemies and secure the permanent help of Louis of France.

  Charles listened to Colonel Churchill’s presentation of his Master’s case. ‘My Lord Argyll is no traitor,’ he said firmly in reply. ‘You must tell our brother he makes mountains out of molehills. And that we cannot agree with any of his proposals, nor give him any hope of an early return, unless he accepts our demand that he cease to flaunt his religion before our people. And now, John,’ he said familiarly, in his old, friendly manner, ‘you and I will have a game of tennis to relieve our minds of this heavy matter. I will expect you at the courts in an hour from now.’

  It was a relief and pleasure to play with the King, who seemed to have lost none of his former agility. John was out of practice, for there was no tennis court at Holyrood, and in any case James was too much occupied with his misrule of Scotland to descend to simple, active pleasures. Controlling his superiority nevertheless, so as not to affront his sovereign, John won the match by a small, calculated margin.

  Charles was not deceived. At the end of the game he clapped his young opponent on the shoulder, laughing.

  ‘You make me feel my years, boy!’ he declared, adding, ‘You have become a very accomplished courtier. But my message to his Highness stands. England will not receive him. The Earl of Argyll must be pardoned.’

  So Colonel Churchill rode back to Edinburgh, thankful to find his position with the King had not suffered, but rather been improved. Thankful too, that the Earl would not die a traitor’s death.

  When he arrived at Holyrood he found that this part of his message was now unnec
essary, for the Earl had gone.

  ‘He escaped, as we all knew he would,’ Hyde told John before the latter was given audience to report to the Duke. ‘He had nearly all the populace on his side. His keepers were blind and deaf and helpless when they were over-powered in the night my lord escaped. He lay in hiding, we know not where, for a couple of days and then the stir over him ceased. His disappearance continues. I have no doubt we shall hear from him at the Hague.’

  ‘Have any suffered for the escape?’ John asked.

  ‘Not yet, for all who might have been concerned have likewise vanished.’

  ‘The King hath publicly pardoned the Earl for his indiscretion,’ John said. ‘I bear this news to the Duke.’

  ‘God defend you, then,’ Hyde said, grinning.

  Before he left London to return to Scotland Churchill managed to meet and discuss his mission with Sidney Godolphin. The latter had now been made Master of the Robes and was very close to the affairs of the Court, which filled him with anxious foreboding.

  ‘Charles may have refused his brother’s plan for ruling the country again by absolute monarchy,’ he said. ‘In plain face his Majesty dare not attempt such a thing. The so-called Papish Plot has, I think, reached its height and must soon decline. But the people’s hatred of Papists and the French is no less. Poor Lord Danby continues to languish in the Tower.’

  ‘I never heard his particular fault.’

  ‘Why, he was imprudent enough to sign papers proving the King took subsidies from France and he, Danby, took part in the transaction. He was impeached and convicted. He was only saved, not vindicated, by the King’s action in ordering his imprisonment.’

  ‘Yet he was the man who secured a fine income for Charles from Customs and Excise when he was plain Sir Thomas Osborne. That astute mind for figures could hardly be expected to avoid the dangers of high diplomacy and devious manipulation.’

  ‘Diplomacy or greedy blackmail! Corruption in so many quarters I am terrified of some overall, appalling total disclosure,’ Sidney went on, with a shudder of disgust.

  ‘How so?’

  ‘I dare not tell even you, John, for your own safety, all I know or guess of the present intrigues. The Court at Whitehall is sinking into wickedness of a darker hue than ever before. Greed of gain was always rampant. Now it thrives upon the evil example of Titus Oates and his followers. Bribes in all directions, for this or that project. Largely set up by the French Ambassador for his country’s purposes. And against these ploys by the enemies of France. The Duchess of Portsmouth, I hear, is so deep in love with the King she hath abandoned her position of French spy. But she joins with Buckingham and others to persuade Charles to take the succession from James in favour of the Duke of Monmouth.’

  ‘That he will never do,’ John said with conviction. ‘Even in Scotland we have heard he hath made a public pronouncement that he was never married to Monmouth’s mother and that the Duke remains and will always remain, his bastard.’

  Nevertheless Monmouth, again in England and daring greatly, began to make progresses in the west and north of the country, though not in Scotland. James was brought news of these exploits which sent him into another of his cold rages. He went about in silence, glaring at his disturbed followers, searching for faults in the performance of their duties and punishing any that he found with floggings for the underlings and withholding of salary, sometimes dismissal, for those of higher position. Even his most intimate courtiers, who could hardly be called friends, for the Duke was never capable of real friendship, were made to suffer from the gloom of his presence, becoming more and more uneasy as time went by and all news that came out of England was uniformly bad, in the opinion of his Highness.

  During this time John had another letter from his friend, Hugh Offord. It was sent on to him from London by Godolphin, to whom it had been passed by another officer in John’s regiment of Guards.

  Hugh was still in the west, still a captain and stationed at Bristol now. He wrote to say he had had the great privilege of being presented to the Duke of Monmouth on the latter’s fresh visit to his forces in the area.

  ‘His forces he calls the regiment,’ John said, showing the letter privately to Colonel Legge.

  ‘Meaning his Grace of Monmouth?’

  ‘So I take it. But Monmouth’s overall command of the Army was taken from him long since.’

  ‘Exactly. Doth Captain Offord not understand this?’

  ‘Apparently not.’

  ‘Then he should be instructed. And before Monmouth makes, further mischief with this exhibition of himself about the country.’

  John agreed. But he also took Legge’s advice not to write to Hugh upon the subject.

  ‘Our Master hath grown so suspicious of all about him, even ourselves. I think he may open our letters to pry out new treasons. Your friend will no doubt be disillusioned in time.’

  And so it would seem, he might, John decided. For Charles did not allow his volatile, ill-advised son, even though he loved him dearly, to pursue his foolish pursuit of popular support. He recalled him once more to London and after explaining to him the full extent of his dangerous folly, sent him into renewed exile, with a real threat of sanctions this time, should he dare to reappear.

  One further move Charles made to secure his throne against the terrible threat to which it was continuously exposed. His brother had a second daughter, now of marriageable age. A second pawn for whom a Protestant husband might alter the climate of total disapproval in which he suffered. So the Princess Anne, at Holyrood always stoutly defending her religion against heavy Catholic influence, was directed to separate herself from her father’s household, holding herself ready to return to the south if and when her marriage was arranged.

  The Princess, now sixteen, was pleased to obey her uncle. She understood the whole purpose of the order; she knew that her marriage was bound to be an affair of State not of personal choice. Like her sister Mary she was willing to submit, while hoping her trial would be less severe than that of the Princess of Orange. Not that Mary’s life was all unhappiness. She was still childless and the Prince had taken as his mistress one of her own English ladies. But apart from this neglect he was not cruel and in many ways she had become fond of him.

  So the Princess Anne accepted her fate, only asking that Mrs. Churchill, her much-loved friend and mentor, should be attached to any establishment set up for her in Scotland or elsewhere. This the King was willing to grant. So was the girl’s father, though the Duke resented deeply his brother’s use of the royal prerogative. He had agreed to his eldest daughter’s marriage reluctantly. He disliked the Prince of Orange. Now he simply dared not refuse consent to the younger girl’s disposal, though he knew it must be to yet another heretic.

  The Duchess of York was sad to be deprived of the constant companionship of her step-daughter, of whom she was fond. She wept again over the loss of her own Isabella, that little Catholic princess for whom she had hoped to plan a royal future. She could only pray to God for the further gift of an heir.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The Prospect of another Protestant marriage in the royal house of Stuart did something to calm the national hysteria, though the fright caused by the King’s illness had already driven much of the national emotion into a more realistic, healthier channel. Though Titus Oates continued his vile efforts, there were now occasions when his pleas were questioned, even failed. Accused innocents were freed, unconvicted. And when Oates attempted to punish the judge concerned for his reasonable verdict, he found the legal profession was against him. Surprised and alarmed he began to retreat, but it was a little too late. The habit of his success was still with him; when he found his generous pension reduced and his agents in perjury falling away from his rule, his base nature and dull mind drove him into open abuse that did nothing to restore his fortunes.

  Charles watched the decline of the Popish Plot with his usual careful calculation of its bearing upon his own position. He even considered the ca
lling of a new Parliament that might now be more manageable, since the Princess Anne’s future husband was likely to be Prince George of Denmark, a decidedly happy choice.

  So elections were held and Sir Winston Churchill was elected for Lyme Regis. The House of Commons was summoned to meet, but not at Westminster. Oxford was chosen instead and to that town the new members were ordered to appear, while Charles, carefully guarded by a sufficeint number of royal troops, moved to the university city to open the meeting.

  His hopes were destroyed at the very start. Shaftesbury, leading the Whigs, put forward yet another Bill of Exclusion. This was designed to prevent the Duke of York and also any future male heir of his from succeeding to the throne. It also provided for the Duke of Monmouth to be declared the legitimate heir.

  Charles was furious. He summoned Lord Shaftesbury to his presence. ‘You know well, my lord,’ he told his obstinate former Chacnellor, ‘that his Grace of Monmouth, though he be our well-beloved son, was not born in wedlock and we have pronounced this to be the truth which we will not have gainsaid. Will not, my lord.’

  Shaftesbury, white-faced, with thin lips compressed, bowed low, then answered, ‘Since your Majesty will have it so I must accept it. But there is no measure your Majesty’s Commons will discuss in this new House but one that must exclude his Highness, the Duke of York, from all pretension to the throne of this Protestant land.’

  ‘Must!’ The King spoke with difficulty through his anger. ‘What of the Lords? Have they no say in the matter? How would your Bill of Exclusion fare in our Upper House?’

  ‘I fear, sir,’ Shaftesbury persisted. ‘I greatly fear the People, not alone the House, your Majesty, but the whole People, may rise in their just rage to support the measure, should it be refused.’

  With unbreakable control of himself Charles brought the interview to an end. He sent at once for his chief ministers to discuss the position. Their reports were alarming.