GEORGE HERIOT was at his promenading in St. Paul's Church, discussing the state of quite a number of prominent folks' credit with Sir William Herrick, now also Court jeweller, and alleged to be the richest money-lender in London, when a stranger approached them and rather diffidently requested the favour of a word or two with Master Heriot. He did not look, nor sound, like any sort of prosperous client, was modestly dressed, but had a certain air about him which appeared to be compounded of an odd mixture of demonstrative if superficial self-denigration, contained force and down-damped humour. Heriot had seen him before somewhere. Excusing himself to Herrick, he led the newcomer aside, into the same side-chapel where he had once taken the Duke of Lennox.
‘I should know your face, sir," he said-and that was true, for apart altogether from the demeanour and bearing, the countenance was unusual, with a great swelling brow which seemed to dominate all, and receding hah, above keen, almost foxy features, with a long nose and chin and pointed little auburn beard. The eyes were deep, dark and rather sad. He was approximately Heriot's own age.
"You will have seen me at certain Court masques, Master Heriot-since I think that you are not a play-goer? My name is Shakespeare-Will Shakespeare, of the Globe Playhouse, in Southwark And of His Majesty's Players."
"Ah-to be sure. That is it. I saw you at Wilton once, I think. With my Lord Southampton's company."
"My lord has been sufficiently kind to advance my poor offerings, in what we are assured are the right directions!" the other agreed gravely-although Heriot did not miss the faint mockery behind the words.
"Your offerings, as you name them sir, are their own best patron. You have, I believe, written many plays and sonnets and masques, all well-spoken of by those knowledgeable in such matters. I have heard that you have not failed even to write of the sad plight of money-lenders and usurers. Her Majesty indeed, for a little, took to calling me Shylock!"
"My Merchant was of Venice, sir, not of Scotland-but a man of parts, nevertheless. He had a long memory, a strong sense of justice and a grim humour. I am told that the Scots very generally display the same? Even His Majesty's royal self!"
"H'mm. Perhaps. And what can I do for you, Master Shakespeare? You now have no lack of wealthy patrons, I understand. It cannot be that you wish to borrow money, I think?"
"No-on that I can set your mind at rest, Master Heriot, at least! As well as counselling you never lend to folk of the play and theatre anyway-for their own good! I come to you because His Majesty sends me."
"The King? To me? Here's a strange charge, surely? I know nothing of plays or playwrights, nor yet of masques or costume either…"
"But you do of Scotland, sir-which is to the point." The other looked round him. "I come of a sacrilegious, not to say impious profession, I fear, and I find a church scarce the place for discussion of my craft. I did call at your premises at the Exchange, and your man sent me here. Perhaps we could speak more freely there?" The man had a Midland countryman's accent, overlaid by an actor's emphasis and intonations.
"As you will. It took some time for me to accustom myself to doing business in this church, I assure you. It is not so in Scotland. Let us move out, yes-but better than my shop, there is an ale-house just beyond the churchyard here…"
Seated in a corner of a dark, low-ceiled tavern, with beakers of ale before them, the man Shakespeare came to the point. "King James is concerned to improve-or perhaps I should say, correct -the view, the notion, of the Scots and Scotland held here in England," he said, picking his words. "You, I have no doubt, knew well that in truth your fellow-countrymen are scarcely loved, sir! The fault may not all be their own, but there is little question but that most Englishmen would fain see them all back in Scotland tomorrow-and rejoice! This is unfortunate, lamentable-but a fact, whatever the reasons."
"I know it well, never fear," Heriot nodded. "I could scarcely help doing so. But I am interested to hear that the King is so concerned. I had not thought that it would much trouble him."
"It seems that it does. Sufficiently for him to seek the aid of such as myself. He would have me to write a play, which would make folk here see Scotland and the Scots in a kinder light, make them better aware of the virtues of your nation, its antiquity and history. He believes that this would benefit his united kingdom."
"You surprise me, sir-or at least, His Majesty does. But then, he seldom fails to do that! A monarch who would think of such a thing is something new! Could a ploy have such effect?"
"I know not But the King believes it so. I have never written one with such an object But staged and enacted, many see and speak of such productions. Who knows what their influence might be? Who am I to refute our illustrious and so erudite sovereign?"
Heriot ignored the thinly veiled mockery in that. "This play, then, is to be about Scotland's history? That I fear, is a bloody one, sir, from first to last. I do not know whether this is the stuff of plays and entertainment 1"
"Tragedy can be as entertaining as comedy, Master Heriot-I can move people to tears more easily than I can make them laugh. And they will remember the sorrow long after they have forgot the merriment."
"As to theme-has the King any notions for you, Master Shakespeare?"
"Yes, indeed. He would wish me to magnify and extol the antiquity of his own royal line, as is to be expected. But he is concerned to emphasise the nobility of the Scots-since he perceives that the impression made here in England by many who have come South in the royal train is scarce of that quality!"
"That I can understand. I fear my countrymen, as a whole, who have followed the King, make but a poor showing. But then, it is seldom the best who leave their own land. Nor who form princes' courts. I sometimes think that I myself should have remained in Scotland."
"If the others were all like you, sir, I think King James would have little need of my services 1 No-I do not flatter you. Your reputation stands high in this city for honest dealing, shrewd wits and a modest bearing and civility, less than usual in such of your compatriots as we find amongst us."
"You exaggerate, Master Shakespeare-as perhaps playwrights will tend to do. Both the good and the ill. But-how can this paragon of shrewdness and modesty aid you, since I know nothing of your craft?"
"It is the King's belief that you can help me to know the Scots, the true Scots. He say that I will learn little of them, or of Scotland, from the nobles and courtiers that flock around him. But Geordie Heriot, as he names you, is different, it seems. A man of the people, who has yet his roots deep in the soil of Scotland- for I understand that you come of a landed family, sir? The King thinks most highly of you."
"Sometimes you would scarcely suspect it. But I will help you if I can. What is required?"
"Guidance, first as to theme, and then as to scene and character. For I am all too well aware of my own ignorance in this matter. We need a dramatic situation, where a great evil is committed, but by a man for whom the playgoers may feel some sympathy, some understanding of his lapse and fall into temptation. It must be an ancestor of His Majesty. And there must be a strong part for a woman, or women-this all insist upon. Though not the King! Moreover, as you will understand, since it is to please and edify the English, battle and intrigue against England will not serve-and, to my mind, most of Scottish history seems to be concerned with that! So the great Bruce and his successors, or any of the Jameses until this one, tend to fail us…"
"The death of James the First? Our James the First. Murdered by the Graham, before his English Queen's eyes-Joan Beaufort? At Perth With Catherine Douglas barring the door against his assassins with her arm, broken to try save her liege. That has nothing to do with England."
"Aye-that would make notable drama. The King did indeed suggest it But assassination of monarchs by their subjects is scarce suitable theme, he feels! After Guido Fawkes his plot Moreover, he is greatly interested, it seems, in witchcraft He has written a volume upon it-as you will know. He believes that Scots witches are of an especial sort, with great power of divination. He would have me to bring this in-indeed purposes to instruct me in the matter! The which I hope to escape! He therefore suggests the case of King MacBeda the usurper-he who, it seems, slew King Duncan whose general he was, and ruled in his stead. Witchcraft, King James claims, was partly responsible. His wife, Grula or some such name, was closer to the throne than was MacBeda himself, and spurred on her husband's ambition. The chronicler Holinshed tells of this, the King says. It seems a likely theme. You know of this MacBeda, Master Heriot?"
"To be sure. Though most in Scotland call him MacBeth. And his wife was Gruach, grand-daughter of Kenneth-Kenneth the Third. I would not call MacBeth usurper, any more than half the kings before him. He was of the royal line, as was his wife, and strong where Duncan was weak Scotland has always needed strong kings. And he reigned well, for many years. As to witchcraft, I know not."
"Ah that is nothing harmful to the drama of it King James sees it not as a subject slaying his lawful monarch so much as a fellow prince replacing another, under the dominance of an evil woman. He is strong on this-the sin of women dominating men, especially in the rule of a state. Only ill can come of women with overmuch power, he says-which will scarce please those who loved the late Gloriana, I fear! So the murderer must die-but the woman to suffer the worse fate. And at the hands of the murdered King's son. From which son, of course, our liege lord claims descent"
"In somewhat round-about fashion! But the throne descends from that Malcolm, yes. If you think this so old a story-for it was five hundred years ago and more-will make a play to cause the English better to love the Scots, then I will aid you the best of my poor ability. But, sir-I do not see in what I may be of use?"
"You can keep me right on matters Scottish, customs, titles, lands. And the King says that, perchance, we might go to Scotland hereafter, so that I may learn something of the true scene and setting." "Ah I Now, sir, you speak to the point! I ever seek excuse to return to my native land. Or royal permission to do so, which is something different." "So His Majesty indicated! He said that I would find you nothing backward." "When do we go?"
"That I know not The King did not make it clear, for certain. I am acting, myself, just now, in a comedy at The Globe-Love's Labour's Lost You may have heard of it? It would not be convenient to go until the run is ended. Besides, King James, I think, has the Scots virtue of thrift well developed! He does not wish me to travel to Scotland at any great cost to himself. His suggestion is that I take the company of the King's Players with me and that we play in Edinburgh and other Scottish cities and so earn the price of our journey"
"That certainly sounds like James Stewart!" Heriot admitted. "When will this be, think you?"
"Our comedy should run for six weeks yet Mid-autumn- October. Would that be too late for travel to Scotland? Snow? Ice?"
"Scotland is not Muscovy, sir-nor yet the Arctic wastes! Our West has a gentler winter than you have here in London, our East drier. October will serve very well."
"I learn, Master Heriot-I learn! And where should I best go, then, to learn of this MacBeda? To set the scene of the play?"
"That I shall have to think on. As I mind it, Perth, Dunsinane, Birnam, come to mind. Lumphanan on the Dee. MacBeth was Mormaor of Moray, and Elgin his capital, I think. I must refresh my memory."
"Very well. And if you can think of aught where I may read more of all this ancient story, pray inform me. Meantime, I shall seek out the chronicles of Holinshed. I thank you for your courtesy, Master Heriot" "Another mug of ale, sir?"
The anticipated summons came some ten days later, and Heriot duly repaired to Hampton Court, the vast palace which Cardinal Wolsey had built a century before and presented to his monarch-who had repaid him by dismissal. He found Will Shakespeare there already; but when the call to the presence came, it was for Heriot only, with the playwright left in the anteroom.
James was tottering alone about a great gallery lit by many windows, hung with crystal candelabra, the walls adorned with hangings and rows of stiff-looking portraits which had the appearance of being all painted by the same hand. There was a long central table, with many chairs drawn up to it, paper, books and scrolls spread, as though for a meeting.
"Aye, Geordie-it's yoursel'?" James greeted. "Shut the door behind you, man and come here." He was moving over to the far comer of the gallery. "See this, now. Easy seen this house was built by a churchman 1 It's a squint, see. Right cunning." He had pulled aside a tapestry of gods and goddesses beside a waterfall, to show behind it a narrow door contrived in the panelling, un-noticeable save to one who knew of its presence. Opening this, the King revealed a small dark chamber, cut in the thickness of the walling, only about six feet square, furnished but with a bench. Beckoning the other in, James pointed to the back of the door on which hung a sort of sliding shutter-device. Drawing this to one side, a series of oddly-placed holes, perhaps half-an-inch in diameter, were uncovered. Letting the tapestry fall back into place, amidst a puff of dust, and closing the door on them, he pointed. The darkness of the garderobe was illuminated by rays of light coming through these holes which the shutter had covered. "Have a peek through there, Geordie."
Peering, the other could see, through the various holes, about two-thirds of the gallery, including almost all of the central table.
"Holes cut in the arras," James went on. "Where the eyes o' thae shameless hussies are-so's they'll no' be noticed. I noticed it, mind. The holes. One time at a meeting. I kent it couldna be moths-no' just there. That's how I found this bit convenience. Right handy, on occasion. I use it now and again. So this gallery makes a suitable place for some meetings, see you!" "Very interesting, Sire," Heriot acknowledged, warily.
"You can hear, too-och, fine and clear. There must be some kind o' laird's lug some place-though I havena found it!" The King opened the door very quietly, and peered round the side of the tapestry, to make sure that no one had entered the gallery. "Out wi' you-quickly 1 Aye, then. You'll ken where to go, Geordie. You'll no' have to cough or sneeze, mind. That wouldna do." As an afterthought, he added. 'The Privy Council whiles meet here. When I so order. Other meetings, forby."
"Ah-I see I Convenient, as Your Majesty says. And my Lord Salisbury and his spies have not yet smelt this out?"
"Eh? Cecil? Na, na-he kens naething o' it Or he wouldna have said some o' the things he has done at yon table 1 When he's been left to preside in place o' my royal self"
"H'mmm. And why me, She? Where do I come into this? You do not wish me to spy on Master Shakespeare, do you?"
"Sakes, no! But I dinna want him seeing it, mind. I can trust you, Geordie-but others havena to ken o' this. No-there's a Privy Council to be held here in an hour frae now. No' an ordinary meeting. I've commanded that limmer Andra Melville, and his Kirk cronies frae Scotland, to compear before me and the Privy Council here. He's a proud, upstuck and arrogant deevil, yon, as I ken well. I want him to deliver himsel' o' his sentiments and treasons before these English lords and bishops-so maybe they'll ken better what I have to contend wi' in Scotland frae these black corbies o' divines, and accord me the better support. But they'll no' ken one hah o' what he's at, being only English. And the Scots members o' this Council, Vicky Lennox and Geordie Home, are up at Perth for the parliament I canna invite the likes o' you, Geordie, to attend at a Privy Council, or any no' sworn into it. So you'll bide in yon bit squint-hole, and watch and listen. And there'll be twa o' us who'll understand what Maister Melville and his crew are at! You've sharp wits for some things, Geordie, and just the man for this."
"I do not know that I like the notion, She. Of spying on my fellow-countrymen…"
"I didna ask you if you liked it, man-I'm commanding it! A leal duty you owe to your monarch. I whiles wonder if you're no' developing ower delicate a stomach for an Edinburgh moneylender, Geordie Heriot I You'll look and listen, in there, and afterwards we'll have a bit crack about it. For the weal o' the realm o' Scotland! You understand? Aye-well, now go and tell yon guard to have the man Shakespeare in."
With the playwright bowed in, and obviously somewhat overawed by the company and surroundings, they had a further discussion on the proposed Scottish play. James was quite decided now that it should be on the theme of MacBeda-as he called him-Duncan and Gruath. He dismissed Heriot's suggestion that Malcolm Canmore, Duncan's son, and his Saxon-English Queen Margaret, might provide a more cheerful and profitable subject, as representing Scottish-English co-operation, on the grounds that tragedy was the real stuff of drama; moreover, Margaret had been much too strong-willed a woman, and had largely ruled Scotland through her husband and sons thereafter-an ill thing and unsuitable to be published abroad. Had she not well-nigh imposed Popery on Scotland, in place of their own good native Celtic Church? Well, then.
Will Shakespeare seemed quite happy with MacBeth and Duncan, delating a little on some of the scenes he proposed to introduce. He was not so sure about the witchcraft aspect, however, having no real knowledge of the subject, and not seeing how it was to be fitted in.
James allowed him to get no further than that, but plunged forthwith into a deep and lengthy exposition of witchcraft and warlockry, satanism and demonology, in all their branches, with illustrations back to the Witch of Endor and other Biblical references, quotations, largely from his own works on the subject, Latin interpolations and classical parallels. In a spate, a flood, this continued-and since subject could by no means interrupt monarch, and there was no pause, the thing developed into a major discourse and dissertation to an increasingly dazed and lost audience of two.
Their ordeal was only terminated by a knocking at the door and the entry of the Earl of Salisbury himself-who looked distinctly disapproving at finding the King closeted with two such low-born nonentities-coming to inform that the Privy Councillors were now assembled, as were the Scotch presbyters, and awaiting His Majesty's summons to the table.
Frowning, James flapped an unwashed hand at the newcomer. "Aye, well-they can just wait," he declared. "Awa' and tell them so, Cecil man. I'll have them in when I'm ready, and no' before. You're interrupting me, sir-aye, intercluding and anteverting me, the King! I'm expounding a serious matter. You should ken better. Experientta docet stultosl When I want you, I'll send for you."
Shaken, the Principal Secretary of State, and earl, tip-toed out -but he got in a venomous glance at the monarch's companions in the by-going.
"A right tiresome limmer, that!" Majesty commented. "And crabbit, too. Now-where was I?"
Heriot cleared his throat, greatly daring. "Sire-do you not think… would it not be wise… in the circumstances, to leave this subject meantime? I swear Master Shakespeare and myself have been given as much, and more, than our poor wits can take in, on this deep matter of witchcraft For the time being. We have not Your Majesty's profound and long-standing familiarity with the subject. We are but babes at this…"
"Aye-I can well believe that!" the King said severely. "I've been watching the pair o' you-and you've no' shown the interest and comprehension, aye the apperception and perpension I'd have expected frae men o' proper wits. But maybe you're right-and it would be wasting time to gie you mair, the now. Forby, there's the other matter," and he glanced conspiratorially from Heriot to the corner of the gallery where was the hidden chamber. "Maister Shakespeare-you have our royal permission to leave. I'll see you again, on this."
"Yes, Your Majesty. To be sure. I thank Your Majesty, I, ah, bid Your Majesty good-day and godspeed. If, if I may be so bold. With my deep thanks for your, your disquisition of these occult and difficult matters."
"Aye-then see you mak guid use o' what I've told you, man, in this stagery and dramaturgy. Our witches, mind, are to be maist notable and horrid, of a right powerfu' and diabolic quality. Nane o' your auld wifies wi' simples and herbs, drying up coo's udders and lassies' maidenheids, such as your dweebly English beldames go in for. Ours are otherwise in Scotland, Satan's ain sisterhood! So see you to it. Now-off wi' you. Geordie-you bide here."
When the playwright had bowed himself out, Heriot was hustled to the hidden garderobe behind the tapestry, with much shushing and adjurations as to no coughing, sneezing, or coming out until he, James, came for him. Then the door was shut, and he was left in darkness save for the dusty lances of light coming through from the gallery windows opposite.
Sighing-not audibly, he hoped-the man sat on the bench, immured in the cause of duty.
He had not long to wait, at any rate. In only a minute or two the Privy Councillors came trooping into the gallery-and the King was proved right about a watcher being able to hear clearly as well as see, for Heriot was promptly regaled by the sight and sound of the highest in England's church, state and court manoeuvring and squabbling over precedency and who was to occupy the best seats round the table. Clearly, the Howards and Cecils were most adept at this endeavour. The head of the table was just opposite Heriot's squint-holes, but the rightmost aperture was so aligned that he could see the bottom also, where two secretaries sat. James's throne-like seat at the head was flanked by two lesser chairs, whereon sat the Lord Chancellor Ellesmere and the Principal Secretary of State, with the new Archbishop of Canterbury, Dr. Richard Bancroft, on the former's right and Thomas Howard, Earl of Suffolk, Lord Chamberlain and Treasurer, on the latter's left. When the King had sat down, all others did likewise, save for Salisbury, who, hunched and crooked of back, addressed His Majesty and Council. They were met together, he declared, not for any normal meeting but at His Majesty's command, to hear certain views and assertions put forward by prominent members of Christ's Church in Scotland, which views impinged upon and affected the processes of government in the state. Admittedly that state was the realm of Scotland; but since their kingdoms were now in measure united, in the person of their gracious and respected monarch, and would, it was to be expected, be further united hereafter; and moreover their Church of England was concerned-it was deemed proper that these views should be heard by the Council, from the mouths of spokesmen of the Presbyterian persuasion, in particular Master Andrew Melville, Principal and Rector of the University of St Andrews. Master Melville and his colleagues had already been given opportunity to address sundry assemblies and parties, including some of their Spiritual lordships here present This occasion was for a general exchange of views on policies, all attending entitled to hear and question the Scotchmen. With His Majesty's permission, he would call them in.
Yeomen of the Guard had barely got the door open when eight black-garbed figures strode in, as though to battle, heads high, led by a white-haired and bearded man of noble features, stern expression and flashing eye. He, and they all, were dressed in ordinary clothing, not Geneva gowns but noticeably plain and all black, relieved only by deep white linen collars-very different from the rich and colourful dress of the Privy Councillors-the few Puritan lords thereof had not been summoned, naturally- and the splendid canonicals and rochets worn by the bishops. Their leader marched half way up the chamber and then halted, to jerk his head towards the throne, in what would better be described as a curt nod rather than any bow. His colleagues did not even do as much. They were all men of middle years.
"Aye, Maister Andra-it's yoursel’," the King greeted genially. "And you, Maister Jamie. Yon's his nephew, wi' the big belly," he added, for the benefit of the assembled councillors. "I dinna mind a' the names o' the rest. But come up a bittie further, Andra-so's I can have a right sight o' you, man." James darted a quick glance towards the important tapestry to ensure that all would be within its range. "Aye, then-that'll do, that'll do."
"Sire-before aught else, I hereby do mak protest!" Andrew Melville cried strongly, in a clear but rich and powerful voice that contrasted notably with the monarch's thick and wetly conversational delivery. "We have been subjected to notable folly and intolerable affront We have been forced to attend and listen to nae fewer than four sermons in what they ca' your Chapel Royal, a right scandalous place filled wi' shamefu' Popish mummery, altars, idols and superstitious imagery. Aye, sermons of a puerility and extravagance and inordinate length, submitted by men as lacking in a' knowledge o' God's revealed Word and purpose as, it appears, they were in any decent education! And this, we were told, on Your Grace's direct command."
James's voice rose somewhat squeakily above the gasps and exclamations of his outraged councillors-but not in any evident disapprobation. "I wouldna have thought that you would object to sermons, Andra-or the length o' them! I've had to listen to some right dingers frae yoursel', man. Hours and hours, aye-at St Giles and Holyrood. I jaloused they'd put you a' at ease-your ain coin o' exchange, just. Moreover, fas est et ab hoste doceri, eh? Aye, and it was fitting that you should be informed on the doctrines o' the supremacy o' the Crown and the rights o' the Episcopate, which we're a' here to decide on. I'd no' have you ignorant o' the case contrar to your ain, Maister Andra."
"Doctrines! Yon werena doctrines-they were sacrilegious encroachments on the prerogatives o' Almighty God, sir! The mouthings o' vain and uninformed profaners…!"
"Sire!" Archbishop Bancroft of Canterbury jumped to his feet. 'This is beyond all bearing! This, this ranting demagogue must be silenced! To abuse Your Majesty and the leaders of Christ's Church in this fashion is utterly without precedent, and, and…" His voice was drowned in the angry agreement of the rest of the Privy Council.
"No' exactly without precedent, my lord Archbishop-no' for Maister Melville! I've heard him at it before-ooh, aye. And you mauna ca' him a ranting demagogue, mind-for he's the Principal o' a great university, and former Moderator o' the General Assembly. And no' only in Scotland, forby-he was Professor o' the Humanities at Geneva, one time. Is that not so, Andra?" James was smiling happily-as well he might
Melville drew breath, as well he might-for he was far from a fool, and could be playing into the King's hands. "I have made my protest, Sire," he answered, more quietly, "as I was in duty bound. On a matter of principle. Liberavi animam meam. As Your Grace will agree is wise."
"Ooh, aye. But principles can be mistaken, man. Homints est errare. And again, graviora quaedam sunt remedia periculis! Eh, my lords?" The King looked around him, beaming.
The Privy Councillors considered each other, at a loss, and stirred and coughed uncomfortably in their seats. "Aye well, Andra-we'll let thae fleas stick to the wa', meantime. But there's some points need clearing up, see you. In matters o' policy, no' principle. You and your like refuse and deny the office o' bishop. Yet you found a' on the Word, the Word o' God as revealed in Holy Writ. Is that no' so? Well, then-tell you me any place in Holy Writ where the presbyter or presbytery is named without above it a bishop? Tell me that, Andra Melville!"
"The word bishop, She, is not such as you interpret it. In Holy Writ The word bishop and angel were aye interchangeable in the early Church. And angel but means messenger. Messengers we'd accept 1" Melville actually smiled, if thinly. "But would you? I dinna see even your prelatical friends genuflecting before the Archangel Richard, here"
That at least exchanged grins for frowns on some non-ecclesiastical faces.
James hooted. "I'll mind that one, Andra I But you're wrang, man-wrang! Angel and bishop are the same, aye-but the angels o' the New Testament were no' just messengers. They were men in high authority in the Church. In the Blessed Revelation didna John write to the Angels o' the Seven Churches in Asia? The Angel o' the Church in Sardis, the Angel o' the Church in Thyatha, the Angel o' the Church in Philadelphia and so on. They were the men in authority ower those churches. Bishops. John didna write to the Presbytery o' Sardis, nor yet the General Assembly o' Philadelphia! Is Holy Writ, and John wrang thea?" "Holy Writ is never wrong. Only the interpretation o' it."
"And your interpretation is the only right one? A' else wrang? Have I no' the finest scholars in Europe, some frae Scotland, working on Holy Writ to mak it intelligible to a' men? Even my lords, here! And you claim misinterpretation, Andra Melville!"
"I spoke of interpretation,- no' translation, Sire. There is a difference. Name me Your Grace's authority to create and impose bishops in Holy Writ."
"Guidsakes, man-you question my divine right as the Lord's Anointed! God's Vice-Regent here on earth in these kingdoms?"
"In matters secular, no. In such, I am your subject. But in matters divine and religious-yes! I have said before, and to your face, that there are two kings and two kingdoms. There is King James, the heid o' this Commonwealth, and there is Christ Jesus the King o' His Kirk and people, whose subject James is, and of whose kingdom he is not a king, nor a lord, nor a head, but a member, God's vassal! I say…"
There was a great outcry from the Council, drowning out that thundered assertion, led by the prelates. James allowed the uproar ample scope, licking his lips and toying with his cod-piece.
He raised a hand, at length. "Aye, well-you've heard Maister Andra's interpretation o' Holy Writ as applied to the Lord's Anointed, my lords. But even he grants me some small authority, in matters secular just. I ask him, then, as relevant to our discussion and exercitation, whether the assembling together o' my subjects, in one o' my burghs o' regality, contrar to my royal command, is or isna' lawfu'?"
Melville shot a quick glance at his nephew. Both knew what was coming, and perceived the trap sent for them.
"A court of Christ's Kirk may meet where it will on Christ's earth, Sire," the nephew said reasonably. James Melville was a thick-set man of around fifty, plump, with rubicund features and of a more gentle disposition than his fiery uncle-but of proved equal determination.
"When the courts o' Christ's Kirk are made up o' subjects o' mine, sir, they are bound to obey my express commands in matters secular-that you'll no' deny? I commanded that they didna meet in General Assembly in my royal burgh o' Aberdeen a year past-but meet they did. And you, James Melville, led them in that defiance 1 Do you say that Assembly, therefore, was lawfu' or unlawfu'?" "In God's law, lawful, sir." "You claim, then, to ken God's law better than do I, His Anointed?" "I do."
Into the rumble from the Council, his uncle raised his tremendous voice. "We all do. We are the ordained ministers o' Almighty God!" James pointed a finger. "And you rate ordination higher than anointing, man?" "We do. We must. Or the Gospel is meaningless." "You will note that, my lords-note well," James said, glancing round. "We are right notably instructed this day o' Our Lord! Maister Melville declares that any minister, any ordained minister soever, rates above the King! You heard him? That means every minister soever-Catholic priest, Puritan preacher, vicar, curate and Dissenter, in this land or other, is above the King's Majesty. And above the realm's law. A' he needs to do, mind, is to interpret God's law otherwise, and he is supreme, safe. Ower me! Ower your lordships, too. Aye, and over the General Assembly o' the Kirk o' Scotland, likewise! Think on it, my friends-think on it."
Uproar filled the Hampton Court gallery. James too the opportunity to cast a triumphant glance in the direction of the tapestry.
Andrew Melville's lion-like roar eventually brought quiet. "She-I do protest!" he cried. "I made no sic like claim. My claim is that the highest court o' the Kirk, the Assembly, must be free to mak its ain decisions. In the light o' God's laws. The civil power isna inferior but irrelevant thereto…"
More clamour. Archbishop Bancroft got to his feet again. 'Your Majesty-this is both open heresy and lese-majesty, if not highest treason! Must your Privy Council sit here and listen to both Your Majesty and its members being insulted and decried? I say it is too much…!"
"If I can thole it, so can you, Bancroft man! We asked these guid presbyters here that we might be informed. Well, we're being informed, are we no'? Right fully and remarkably! You'll no' deny that?"
"I have received sufficient information, Sire, to assure myself that these men have no other thought in them but arrogantly to declare their own rectitude and to abuse Your Majesty's generosity and mercy. I myself see no advantage to be gained by further hearing them. I urge you, therefore, to dismiss them, Sire. And thereafter to make this Master Andrew Melville pay for his unlawful statements and…" "Unlawfu', sirrah!" Melville interrupted powerfully. 'You, a churchman, change me with unlawfu' speech! I was summoned here to explain why bishops shouldna be imposed upon Christ's Kirk in Scotland. I have done so. If you canna bear the truth when you hear it, then I chairge you-aut non tentaris aut perfice!"
'Truth-from your prejudiced and proud lips, sir? You, Melville, who are so fond of Latin, heed this simple Latinity- scandalum magnatum! Do you know what that means, sir? For I do hereby charge you with it, before His Majesty and this high Council"
Melville raised both hands, and snapped his fingers twice, thrice. "That for your scandalum magnatum. The miscalling and denigration o' magnates. It isna possible to misca' and denigrate such as you, sirrah! For it would imply lowering you frae a standard to which you havena yet risen"
"How dare you, you insolent profaner! Your Majesty-I demand your royal protection from the outrageous attacks upon me by this, this…"
"Profaner, you name me? You! You, who of a' men profane the Sabbath, silence faithfu' ministers o' the Gospel encourage Popery! You, the very fount o' superstition in this land 1" Beside himself, Melville strode forward to the Archbishop-and though Bancroft was a bigger man, he shrank back before the sheer fury of the burning-eyed Scot. Grabbing the lace-edged sleeves of the archiepiscopal rochet, Melville shook them and their owner vigorously, violently, and went on shaking. "You are… a foe o' Christ Crucified!" he panted. 'The capital enemy… o' a' the Reformed Churches in Christendom! You… you whited sepulchre! You and yours, I will oppose… to the last drop o' my blood-so help me God!"
By the time that he reached the Deity's name, half-a-dozen councillors had leapt up and rushed to the help of the unfortunate Primate, and were dragging Melville off. Practically all there in the gallery were standing now, in vehement outcry, shouting for the guard, demanding dire judgment and the wrath of Heaven. Only King James sat still, fingering his wispy beard, a half-smile about his slack mouth. He uttered not a word.
The Lord Chancellor took charge, as was his duty. 'Take him away!" he commanded. "Away! Attacking a member of this Council! Intimidating the lieges. Brawling and violence in the presence of the King. All indictable offences against the realm. Off with him, to ward. The guard to hold him close." James let them hustle his straggling countryman to the end of the room, before holding up his hand. "Bide a wee, bide a wee," he ordered. "Man, Andra-yon was injudicious " he complained, shaking his head. "Right precipitate and no' seemly, at a'. We canna have this sort o' behaviour in our royal presence. Och, man -what are we to do wi' you? What'll they say at St, Andra's, man?"
The Archbishop, collapsed in his chair, babbled something incoherent, Ellesmere signed to him to be quiet
"Sire-this man may be a dignitary in his own country but he has broken the laws of England, here before all, and cannot be excused. I…"
"Cannot, my lord Chancellor-cannot? Who says cannot to the King?"
"Your pardon, She-a slip of the tongue. Should not, is better. More seemly. Master Melville should be punished, or the law becomes a mockery. Your law."
"Aye, maybe. But he's an auld man getting. And learned, mind. Fu' o' years and learning. Eh, Andra?"
"She-then he should be taught to join wisdom and gravity-aye, and some modesty and discretion-to his years and learning!" the Chancellor declared-and had the loud support of almost all present "I say that he should be sent to the Tower!"
"Na, na-no' the Tower, man. No' yet, leastways. Have you no regard for siller hairs, my lord? You'll have some o' your ain soon enough I Andra'll do fine in the chairge o' the Dean o' St Paul's, meantime, decent man. See you to it, my lord. The Dean o' St. Paul's. To be kept close until I say otherwise. Tak him awa'." Protesting angrily, Andrew Melville was led out
James turned to the nephew and his colleagues, who stood looking appalled and at a loss. "Aye, Maister Jamie-a bad business, eh?" he sympathised. "Och, that was fell untoward. Aye, untoward and intempestive. But never heed-you're a man o' mair sense, I'm thinking?"
James Melville took a deep breath. "I agree with all that my uncle said, Sire-if not the way he said it" he declared.
The King held up a hand to still the noise from the now thoroughly roused Council. "Is that so? I'm right sorry about that, man. I was hoping for better things frae a mair reasonable duel the likes o' yoursel'. We'll maybe win some guid out o' this day yet, though."
The other looked unhappy and unsure-for he was indeed a more reasonable man. "I would wish it also, Your Grace," he admitted.
"Aye. I was thinking you'd maybe mak a fair bishop yoursel’, Jamie. Dunkeld is vacant. How would you like to be Bishop o' Dunkeld, Jamie Melville? And help wi' the bringing together o' the warring factions in the Kirk? As is but your simple duty, forby." James Melville swallowed audibly. He raised his head high. "I… no, Sire." "No? You'll no' be Bishop o' Dunkeld?" "No,Sire-I will not."
"Gie me a guid reason why not-a guid reason, mind. Nane o' your uncle's ranting havers!"
"Very well, Sire. There are, I say, three sorts of bishops- divine, human and devilish. Of these, I am already, by the grace of God, one of the first…"
He got no further before the outrage of the English bishops drowned his words.
But James was interested. "Quiet you, my lords," he ordered. "We'll hear what the other sort o' bishops are-to our edification, nae doubt Proceed, Maister Jamie. The second sort…?"
"The second sort are those set up by human, not divine authority, Sire. These daily incline to the third, the devilish and satanical, with which in substance they are at one…"
Even James could not keep the Council quiet now-and did not indeed try very hard. He sat back.
"Sire!" Salisbury exclaimed. 'This one is as bad as the other. Have him in ward, likewise! All of them. They are rebel rogues all. A danger to Your Majesty's realms." "Yes-away with them!" "To the Tower with the scurrilous dogs!"
"Hush you, my lords. It is for me to say how these shall be disposed," the monarch declared. "And six o' them have committed nae offence yet, have they? They havena opened their mouths. Be no' so thin-skinned, my lords. Mind, in Scotland we have a mair outspoken custom and usage-aye, mair debative and controvertible. So I'll send these gentry back hame-since I reckon we are now sufficiently informed as to their views. Unless any o' you lords o' my Privy Council are anxious further to question them? No? Then back they shall go. But no' Maister Jamie, I think. In case he felt moved to convene another General Assembly on his ain! He doesna want to be Bishop o' Dunkeld, and I dinna want him back Moderating the Assembly, nor yet ministering at Anster and Kilrenny. He'll do fine at yon Newcastle, aye Newcastle-until Igie him leave to go back to Scotland. Aye, Jamie Melville-you pleased yoursel' fine at Newcastle once before, did you no'? When you chose to act pastor there to yon arrogant lords I exiled there? Ooh, aye. So that's it, my lords. This Council is closed. We are a' the wiser, are we no'? You have my permission to retire." Majesty waves them all away.
When, after an interval, James, alone, came tip-toeing back into the gallery, closing the door carefully behind him, and coming to release Heriot from confinement, he was positively gleefuL
"Man, Geordie-was that no' just prime!" he demanded. "Couldna have been better arranged, though I say it mysel'. Thae Melvilles cooked their ain goose, eh? I didna need you, in here. A' just went maist excellent welL Nae trouble at a'." 'There seemed to be trouble in plenty, Sire."
"Not so. Yon wisna trouble, Geordie-yon was the working out o' my purpose. In better fashion that I expected) mind. I'm right gratefu' to Andra Melville. I dinna need your testimony now, to help lock him up."
"You mean, Sire, that you planned all this in order to get the Melvilles to trap themselves?" "To be sure, I did. I wanted them out o' Scotland. And to bide out. So's this business o' my bishops is settled decently. Och, without the Melvilles Vicky and Doddie Home will have little bother, at all. The Kirk's been a thorn in my flesh for lang. It'll no' be, now." "You intend to keep Andrew Melville here? As good as prisoner?" "Ooh, aye. For a year or so. The Privy Council will no doubt advise me strongly to put him in the Tower. Where there's better men than he is " "He's an old man for the Tower, Your Majesty..’ "He's an auld man for ca'ing the lugs off archbishops o' my Privy Council! But, och-I'll see he's comfortable. He'll no' dee there, man-I'm no' for making martyrs for the Kirk, see you. And, whiles, I'll maybe go along and have a bit crack wi' him, anent sundry doctrines and dogmas. He'll be fine. And in a year or two I'll pack him off to France or Geneva, where he was before. But, mind this-I'll no' have Andra Melville back in Scotland again, and that's a fact!" Heriot inclined his head, silent.
Before he took leave of the King, the goldsmith reverted to the subject of the projected Scottish dramatic production. "When does Your Majesty wish me to take Master Shakespeare to Scotland?" he asked.
"Aye, you're keen, heh? Eager, Geordie man! To get your hands on yon lassie Primrose again! At your years you shouldna be so hot, I tell you. Forby, though she's ready enough, she'll be a' the better for waiting a wee. Ripening nicely, aye-nicely!"
"Does that mean that Your Majesty is having second thoughts about sending us up? "
"Nothing o' the sort Touchy, eh? You'll go in my guid time, and no' before, Geordie Heriot So keep your manhood between your twa legs, meantime, and remember you're a decent London tradesman o' middle years!"