The Patriot (13 page)

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 circumst
ances in the Palace of Holyrood
house. 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
Catho
lic? 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 keep 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.

Whether there was any truth in what became known as the Rye House Plot is doubtful. Certainly Rumbold and some others named by Keeling were members of one of the rather wild groupings, and were promptly arrested and put to the question. But much bigger game than this was the objective. It was the members of the Council of Six, and some of their associates, at which the thing was aimed - although all knew well enough that these were not the kind of people to be involved in assassination and the like, nor to associate with such as Rumbold's company of extremists. Despite their lofty rank, however, all save Monmouth were arrested and thrown into the Tower, with some of their close friends.

The worst followed swiftly. Lord Grey contrived to escape, by plying his gaoler with drink, and managed to get away to Holland. Lord Howard proved to be weak, a broken reed, and under pressure signed his name to what their enemies wanted him to say, condemning his friends. The Earl of Essex was found dead in his cell; and Hampden and Lord William Russell were condemned to death for high treason.

With Algernon Sidney, Trenchard and one or two other M.P.s arrested as accomplices, and also condemned to execution, Gilbert Burnet was in no doubt as to his own vulnerability, and that of any guests of his. Indeed the presence of the two Scots exiles in his house was a further menace to him. They must flee, therefore, and at once. Burnet himself refused
to do so - indeed he insisted that he must attend Lord Russell, his especial friend, on the scaffold, as minister; but his lodgers must go. He could arrange for them to sail for the Low Countries in one of the many wool-ships, as was being contrived for Monmouth.

Andrew accepted the inevitable. But Robert Baillie said no. He would go back to Scotland, secretly. He had a wife and family there and no brother to mind his estates and send money. He would return to Home of Polwarth, from where he could slip back and forth across the Border at need. There too he could keep contact with his estates. He had intended this, anyway.

Andrew tried to dissuade him, emphasising the dangers, as did Burnet, but to no effect. Andrew, of course, was tempted to do likewise; but he recognised this could only involve others in danger. He would go to Holland where so many Scots exiles received protection from the young Protestant Prince of Orange, William, married to the Duke of York's eldest daughter Mary, herself strongly Protestant. Monmouth, it seemed, was bound there also, not for the first time.

So, in tense circumstances, they parted, all wondering whether any would see each other again.

6

Strangely enough Andrew did not feel so much of an exile in Holland as he had done in London. That small country seemed to be full of Scots; and here he did not have to go furtively but could behave like an ordinary citizen. The people, too, were friendly, a simple, undemonstrative, down-to-earth lot not unlike the Lowland Scots - and of course Protestant.

Andrew arrived at Rotterdam in the spring of 1664, having come by easy stages, via Paris and Brussels. Like so many another of his class and background, he had made the tour of Europe as part of his later education, and so knew the Continent reasonably well. Henry was supplying him with adequate funds, these reaching him mainly at the hands of merchants from Scottish ports, for these kept up a great trade with their various French, Flemish, Dutch and Germanic counterparts, with much coming and going. Some of the delay, therefore, was occasioned by awaiting the arrival of such messengers, at arranged points. Besides, there was no least hurry. Indeed, after the stresses and contentions of Scotland and the confinement, secrecy and dangers of London, this Continental interlude seemed almost like a prolonged holiday, even though Andrew did tend to fret, with guilty feelings of inaction and uselessness.

Henry sent him letters as well as money, which kept him informed of conditions in Scotland and the fortunes of their friends, as well as on estate matters and problems. Henry himself so far seemed to have suffered no real hardship as a result of his brother's activities, save for the further billeting of militia on Saltoun; he was, to be sure, an inoffensive character, who was apt to look well before he leapt, in marked contrast to his vehement and hot-tempered elder brother.