I beseech you –
These tears beseech you, and these chaste hands woo you
That never yet were heaved but to things holy –
Things like yourself – You are a God above us;
Be as a God, then, full of saving mercy!
John Fletcher & Ben Jonson
Duke Rollo of Normandy, or The Bloody Brother
Encouraged as she was by the courteous manners of her noble companion, it was not without fear that Jeanie felt herself in a remote place with a man of such rank. She had also, however, an eager desire to know where she now was and to whom she was to be presented.
She remarked that the Duke’s dress was much plainer than that in which she had formerly seen him. He bore no insignia or honours and was attired as plainly as any gentleman of fashion in the streets of London. This rather conflicted with the opinion which Jeanie had begun to entertain, that perhaps he intended her to plead her cause in the presence of Royalty.
‘Surely,’ said she to herself, ‘he wad hae putten on his braw star and garter, were we coming before the face of majesty.’
There was sense in Jeanie’s reasoning, but she was not aware of the relationship then existing betwixt the Government and the Duke of Argyle, who was at this time in open opposition to the administration of Sir Robert Walpole. He was also thought to be out of favour with the royal family, despite rendering them vital services in war. It was, however, a maxim of Queen Caroline to treat her political friends with caution lest they be one day her enemies, and to treat political opponents with the same circumspection. Since Margaret of Anjou,1 no queen consort had exercised such weight in the political affairs of England. Her husband, whose finest quality was his courage on the field of battle,2 reigned as King of Great Britian without ever acquiring English habits. While jealously pretending to act according to his own will, he would quietly take and follow the advice of his adroit Queen. He entrusted to her the delicate duties of steadying the waverers, confirming such as were already friendly and regaining those whose goodwill had been lost.
While retaining all the winning address of an elegant and accomplished woman, Queen Caroline was possessed of a masculine soul. She loved the real exercise of power, rather than simply the show of it. Whatever she did herself that was either wise or popular, she always saw to it that the King should have the full credit, conscious that by adding to his respect, she maintained her own.
It was a consistent part of Queen Caroline’s policy to keep up private correspondence with those who, in public, seemed to stand ill with the Court. By this means she kept in her hands the threads of many a political intrigue and thus might prevent discontent from becoming hatred, or opposition rising into open rebellion. If her private correspondence with persons out of favour chanced to be discovered, it was represented as apolitical and mere societal intercourse. With such an answer even Sir Robert Walpole had been compelled to accept on discovering that the Queen had given a private audience to Pulteney, afterwards the Earl of Bath, his most inveterate enemy.3
Following her policy of occasional intercourse with persons apparently alienated from the Crown, Queen Caroline had taken care not to break entirely with the Duke of Argyle. His high birth, and the regard in which he was held in Scotland, ranked him as one not to be neglected. Furthermore, there was his great service to the House of Brunswick in the 1715 rising when, almost single-handedly, he had halted the banding together of all the Highland chiefs. It was well known that flattering overtures had been made to the Duke from the Jacobite court at St Germains.4 The temper of Scotland was still seen as a volcano which might slumber for years, yet still be capable of eruption. It was therefore of the highest importance for the Sovereign to retain some hold over the Duke. Queen Caroline preserved the means of doing so by means of a lady with whom, as the wife of George II, she might have been thought to be on less than intimate terms…
The Queen’s adroitness had contrived that one of her principal attendants, Lady Suffolk, should be both her husband’s mistress and her own confidante. By such dexterous management, Caroline secured her influence against the danger which might have threatened it – the thwarting influence of a rival. If she submitted to the mortification of her husband’s infidelity, she was at least guarded against its most dangerous effects. She was also at liberty, now and then, to bestow a few civil insults upon her ‘good Howard,’ but treated her generally with decorum.5
Lady Suffolk lay under strong obligations to the Duke of Argyle, and through her the Duke maintained an occasional correspondence with the Queen. This, however, had been much interrupted by the position he had taken in the debate on the Porteous mob. This was an affair which the Queen regarded as a premeditated insult to her own authority as Regent, rather than what it was – an outbreak of popular vengeance. However, communications remained open betwixt them, though disused of late on both sides.
From the narrow alley which they had traversed, the Duke turned into one another, but broader and still longer. For the first time since entering these gardens, Jeanie saw persons approaching.
They were two ladies; one of whom walked a little behind the other, yet not so far as to prevent her from hearing and replying to whatever was addressed to her by the foremost person. As they slowly advanced, Jeanie had time to study their features and appearance. The Duke also slackened his pace, as if to give her time to collect herself. He told her not to be afraid. The lady who seemed the principal person had remarkably good features, though somewhat injured by the smallpox. Her eyes were brilliant, her teeth good and her countenance expressed majesty or courtesy at will. Her form, though rather embonpoint,6 was graceful, and the firmness of her step gave no room to suspect what was actually the case, that she suffered occasionally from the gout. Her dress was rather rich than gay, her manner commanding and noble.
Her companion was of shorter stature, with light brown hair and expressive blue eyes. Her features, without being absolutely regular, were perhaps more pleasing than if they had been critically handsome. A pensive expression predominated when she was silent, but gave way to a pleasing and good-humoured smile.
When they were within twelve yards of these ladies, the Duke made a sign that Jeanie should stand still. Stepping forward with the grace natural to him, he made a low bow, formally returned by the leading personage.
‘I trust,’ she said, with an affable smile, ‘that I see so great a stranger at court as the Duke of Argyle has been of late; and in as good health as his friends could wish.’
‘I have been perfectly well,’ the Duke replied. ‘The necessity of attending to business before the House, and a recent journey into Scotland, has rendered me less assiduous in attending the levée and the drawing-room, than I could have desired.’
‘When your Grace can find time for a duty so frivolous,’ replied the Queen, ‘you shall be well received. I hope my readiness to comply with the request you made to Lady Suffolk yesterday, is proof that at least one member of the royal family has not forgotten your Grace’s former important services.’
This was said with good humour and in a conciliatory tone.
The Duke replied that he was deeply gratified by the honour which her Majesty was now doing to him. He trusted also that she would soon perceive that it was in a matter essential to his Majesty’s interest, that he had had the boldness to give her this trouble.
‘You cannot oblige me more, my Lord Duke,’ replied the Queen, ‘than by giving me the advantage of your experience in the King’s service. Your Grace is aware, that I can only be the medium through which any matter is subjected to his Majesty’s superior wisdom; but if it is a suit affecting your Grace personally, it shall lose no support by being presented to the King through me.’
‘It is not a suit of mine, madam,’ replied the Duke, ‘although I feel in full force my obligation to your Majesty. It is a business which concerns his Majesty as a lover of justice and of mercy. I am convinced also that it may be useful in conciliating the unfortunate irritation at present subsisting among his Majesty’s subjects in Scotland.’
There were two parts of this speech disagreeable to Caroline. In the first place, it removed the flattering notion she had conceived that Argyle sought her personal intercession in making peace with the administration. She was also displeased that he should talk of the discontent in Scotland as an irritation to be conciliated, rather than actively suppressed. She thus answered hastily,
‘His Majesty has loyal subjects in England, my Lord Duke, for which he thanks God and the Law. That he has subjects in Scotland, I think he may thank God and his sword.’
The Duke, though a courtier, coloured slightly. Instantly realising her error, the Queen added, without displaying the least change of countenance and as if the words were an original branch of the sentence, ‘And the swords of those real Scotchmen who are friends to the House of Brunswick, particularly that of his Grace of Argyle.’
‘My sword, madam,’ replied the Duke, ‘like that of my fathers, has been always at the command of my lawful King and of my native country. But the present is a matter of more private concern, and respects the person of an obscure individual.’
‘What is the affair, your Grace?’ said the Queen. ‘Let us discover what we are talking about, lest we misunderstand each other.’
‘The matter, Madam, regards the fate of an unfortunate young woman in Scotland, now lying under sentence of death for a crime of which I think it highly probable that she is innocent. And my humble petition to your Majesty is to obtain your powerful intercession with the King for a royal pardon.’
It was now the Queen’s turn to colour, and she did so over cheek and brow. She paused a moment as if unwilling to trust her voice with an initial expression of displeasure. Assuming an air of dignity and an austere control, she at length replied:
‘My Lord Duke, I will not ask your motives for addressing to me such an extraordinary request. As a Peer and a Privy Councillor entitled to request an audience, your road to the King’s closet was open without giving me the pain of this discussion. I, at least, have had enough of Scotch pardons.’
The Duke was prepared for such a burst of indignation and was not shaken by it. He did not attempt a reply with the Queen in the first heat of displeasure, but remained in the same firm yet respectful posture which he had assumed during the interview. The Queen, trained to self-command, perceived the advantage she might lose by yielding to passion. She then added, in her original affable tone,
‘You must not judge uncharitably of me. I am moved at the recollection of the gross insult done in Edinburgh to the royal authority at the very time when it was vested in my unworthy person as Regent. Your Grace cannot be surprised that I should both have felt it at the time – and recollected it now.’
‘It is certainly not a matter to be forgotten,’ answered the Duke. ‘My thoughts of it have been long before your Majesty, and I must have expressed myself very ill if I did not convey my detestation of the murder. I might indeed differ from his Majesty’s advisers on whether it was either just, or politic, to punish the innocent instead of the guilty. I trust your Majesty will permit me to be silent on a topic in which my opinion has not the good fortune to coincide with those of more able men.’
‘We will not prosecute a topic on which we will probably differ,’ said the Queen. ‘One word, however, I may say privately, for you know our good Lady Suffolk here is a little deaf. The Duke of Argyle, when disposed to renew his acquaintance with his master and mistress, will find few topics on which we should disagree.’
‘Let me hope,’ the Duke, bowing at so flattering an intimation, ‘that I shall not be so unfortunate as to have found one on the present occasion.’
‘I must first impose on your Grace the duty of confession,’ said the Queen, ‘before I grant you absolution. What is your particular interest in this young woman? She does not seem qualified to excite the jealousy of my friend your Duchess. Though she has not the air d’une grande dame, I suppose she is some 30th cousin in the terrible chapter of Scottish genealogy?’
‘No, Madam, but I wish some of my nearer relations had half her worth and honesty.’
‘Her name must be Campbell at least?’
‘No, madam; her name is not quite so distinguished, if I may be permitted to say so.’
‘Ah! But she comes from your Inverary or Argyle-shire?’
‘She has never been north of Edinburgh in her life.’
‘Then my conjectures are all ended,’ said the Queen, ‘and your Grace must take the trouble to explain the affair of your protégée.’
With the precision and easy brevity acquired by habitually conversing in society, the Duke explained the singular Statute under which Effie Deans had received sentence of death. He detailed the exertions which Jeanie had made in behalf of a sister, for whose sake she was willing to sacrifice all but truth and conscience.
Queen Caroline listened with attention; being fond of debate and argument, she soon found grounds in what the Duke had told her for raising difficulties.
‘It appears to me, my Lord,’ she replied, ‘that this is a severe Law. But still, it is adopted upon good grounds I am bound to suppose. It is the law of the country and the girl has been convicted under it. The presumptions which the law construes as proof positive of guilt, exist in her case. All your Grace has said concerning her possible innocence may be a good argument for annulling the Act of Parliament, but while it stands, they cannot be admitted in favour of an individual convicted under that Statute.’
The Duke saw and avoided the snare. He was conscious that replying to the argument would inevitably lead into a discussion in which the Queen’s opinion was likely to harden to the point where she became obliged, out of respect to consistency, to let the criminal suffer.
‘If your Majesty,’ he said, ‘would condescend to hear my countrywoman herself, perhaps she may find an advocate in your own heart; one more able I to combat the doubts suggested by your understanding.’
The Queen seemed to acquiesce. The Duke made a signal for Jeanie to advance from where she had been watching; and from where she had also been observing countenances too long accustomed to suppress emotion, to convey any meaning to her. Queen Caroline smiled at the awestruck manner in which the quiet, demure figure advanced towards her and yet more at the sound of her broad Scots accent.
‘Stand up, young woman,’ said the Queen kindly, ‘and tell me what sort of people your country-folk are, where child-murder is so common as to require the restraint of Law?’
‘If your Leddyship pleases,’ answered Jeanie, ‘there are mony places besides Scotland where mothers are unkind to their ain flesh and blood.’
It should be observed that at this time, disputes between King George and Frederick Prince of Wales were then at their highest and that the public laid the blame on the Queen. She coloured smartly and darted a penetrating glance first at Jeanie, then at the Duke. Both sustained it unmoved; Jeanie from total ignorance of the offence given, the Duke from his habitual composure. But in his heart he thought,
‘Oh my poor girl. That luckless answer has shot dead your only hope of success.’
Lady Suffolk good-humouredly and skilfully interposed in this awkward crisis.
‘You must tell this lady,’ she said to Jeanie, ‘the particular causes which make this crime common in your country.’
‘Some think it’s the Kirk Session; it’s the cutty stool, if your Leddyship pleases,’ said Jeanie, looking down.
‘The what?’ said Lady Suffolk, to whom the phrase was new.
‘The stool of repentance, madam, if it please your Leddyship,’ answered Jeanie, ‘for loose living and for breaking the Seventh Commandment.’
Here she raised her eyes to the Duke, saw his hand move to his chin and, totally unaware of what she had said, gave double effect to the innuendo by stopping short and looking embarrassed. Lady Suffolk retired like a covering party placed betwixt their comrades and the enemy and coming suddenly under fire. Deuce take the lass, thought Argyle to himself; another shot and a hit with both barrels!
Indeed, the Duke felt confusion as master of ceremonies to this innocent offender. Jeanie’s last sally, however, had obliterated the bad impression arising from the first. Her Majesty had not so lost the feelings of a wife in those of a Queen, that she could enjoy a jest at the expense of Lady Suffolk. She turned towards the Duke, a smile marking her pleasure and observed,
‘The Scotch are truly a rigidly moral people.’ She then asked how Jeanie had travelled down from Scotland.
‘Upon my feet mostly, madam.’
‘What, all that immense way on foot? How far can you walk in a day?’
‘Five and twenty miles and a bittock.’
‘And a what?’
‘And about five miles more,’ said the Duke.
‘I thought I was a good walker,’ said the Queen, ‘but this shames me sadly.’
‘May your Leddyship never had sae weary a heart, that ye canna be sensible of the weariness of the limbs,’ said Jeanie. That was better, thought the Duke; it’s the first thing she has said to the purpose.
‘And I didna a’thegither walk the haill way neither, for I had whiles the cast of a cart; and I had the cast of a horse from Ferrybridge, and divers other easements,’ said Jeanie, cutting short her story as she observed the Duke making the sign again.
‘Even with these accommodations,’ said the Queen, ‘you must have had a very fatiguing journey. And, I fear, to little purpose. Even if the King were to pardon your sister, in all probability it would do her little good for I suppose your people of Edinburgh would hang her out of spite.’
She will sink herself now outright, thought the Duke.
He was wrong. The shoals on which Jeanie had inadvertently touched in this delicate conversation were submerged and unknown to her. This rock was above water, and she avoided it.
‘I am confident that baith town and country wad rejoice to see his Majesty taking compassion on a poor unfriended creature.’
‘His Majesty has not found it so in a recent instance,’ said the Queen; ‘but I suppose my Lord Duke would advise him to be guided by the rabble themselves as to who should be hanged and who spared?’
‘No, madam,’ said the Duke; ‘I would advise his Majesty to be guided by his own feelings and those of his royal consort. Then I am sure punishment would only attach itself to guilt and even then with reluctance.’
‘Well, my Lord, all these fine speeches do not convince me of the propriety of showing any mark of favour to your… I suppose I must not say rebellious, but at least your very disaffected and intractable metropolis. Why, the whole nation conceals the murderers of Porteous; otherwise, how is it possible that with so many engaged in so public an action that not one has been recognised? Even this wench, for aught I can tell, may be a depositary of the secret. Young woman, had you any friends engaged in the Porteous mob?’
‘No, madam.’
‘But I suppose,’ continued the Queen, ‘if you were possessed of such a secret, it would be a matter of conscience to keep it to yourself?’
‘I would pray to be guided what was my duty, madam.’
‘Yes, and take that which suited your own inclinations.’
‘Madam,’ said Jeanie, ‘I would hae gaen to the end of the earth to save the life of John Porteous or any other man in his condition. But I would not be the avenger of his blood; that is for the civil Magistrate. He is dead and gane to his place. They that have slain him must answer for their ain acts.
But my sister, Madam, my puir sister Effie still lives, though her days and hours are numbered! She still lives and a word of the King’s mouth might restore her to a broken-hearted auld man that never in his daily and nightly prayers, forgot to ask God that his Majesty might be blessed with a long and a prosperous reign and that his throne, and the throne of his posterity, might be established in righteousness.
Oh Madam, if ever ye kend what it was to sorrow for a sinning and a suffering creature, whose mind is sae tossed that she is fit neither tae live or die, have some compassion on our misery. Save an honest house from dishonour and a girl not eighteen years of age from an early and dreadful death!
Alack; it is not when we sleep soft and wake merrily that we think on other people’s sufferings. Our hearts are light within us then, and we are for righting our ain wrangs and fighting our ain battles. But when the hour of trouble comes to the mind or to the body – and seldom may it visit your Leddyship, and when the hour of death comes as it does to high and low, lang and late may it be yours!
My Leddy, then it isna what we hae dune for oursells, but what we hae dune for others, that we think on maist pleasantly. And the thoughts that ye hae intervened to spare the puir thing’s life will be sweeter in that hour, come when it may, than if a word of your mouth could hang the haill Porteous mob at the tail of ae tow.’7
Tears rolled down Jeanie’s cheeks, her features glowing and quivering with emotion as, with a pathos both simple and solemn, she pleaded her sister’s cause.
‘This is eloquence,’ said her Majesty to the Duke.
‘Young woman,’ she continued to Jeanie, ‘I cannot grant a pardon to your sister, but you shall have my intercession with his Majesty. Take this housewife case,’ she continued, putting a small embroidered needle case into Jeanie’s hands; ‘do not open it now, but at your leisure. You will find something in it which will remind you of your interview with Queen Caroline.’
Jeanie would have fulsomely expressed her gratitude, but the Duke, concerned that she might say more than enough, touched his chin once more. The Queen now turned to Argyle,
‘Our business is, I think, ended for the present, my Lord Duke. I trust, to your satisfaction. Hereafter I hope to see your Grace more frequently, both at Richmond and St James’s. Come, my Lady Suffolk, we must wish his Grace good-morning.’
They exchanged their parting courtesies. As soon as the ladies had turned their backs, the Duke, conducted Jeanie back through the tree-lined avenue.
Her tread was that of one sleepwalking.
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1 The wife of King Henry VI of England; as such she was Queen Consort 1445–1461 and 1470–1471. She also claimed to be Queen Consort of France from 1445–1453.
2 King George II was the last British monarch to command troops in battle; at Dettingen in Bavaria (1743) during the War of the Austrian Succession.
3 William Pulteney (1684–1764) 1st Earl of Bath. Whig politician.
4 King Louis xv set up the Jacobite Court-in-Exile of James Edward Stuart (‘The Old Pretender’), son of James II, at the Chateau of St Germain en Laye, near Versailles.
5 Henrietta Howard, Countess of Suffolk (1689–1767) Witty and intelligent, she is thought to have been the model for Chloe in Alexander Pope’s The Rape of the Lock. Her correspondents included Horace Walpole and Jonathan Swift.
6 French: En bon point, Literally: in good condition, the English meaning being ‘plump’.
7 Rope.