The Patriot (37 page)

There was word of Belhaven and the Haddingtonshire squadron. They had come off lightly, scarcely distinguishing themselves but suffering few casualties. It had not been a cavalry battle, fought in the main in a deep and rocky defile where horses were of little use. So they had been kept largely in reserve until Mackay's defeated infantry began their headlong retreat, when they had been useful in covering the retiral. But by then the knowledge of Dundee's death was sapping the Highland fervour, and the abandoned baggage-train a mighty temptation, so that the rout was the less hard to stem.

Andrew Fletcher thanked God for that, at least, even if he was less wildly excited than most of Lowland Scotland appeared to be, with church-bells ringing, flags waving, singing crowds parading and cheers for King William. Surely never had a defeated general come back to such a hero's welcome as did Hugh Mackay of Scourie - symptomatic of the state of dread which had prevailed previously.

Only the more apprehensive - or more thoughtful - eyes now turned towards Ireland.

Part Four

16

Andrew Fletcher surveyed the table in his great hall at Saltoun with some satisfaction mixed with assessment and a little apprehension. As to the brilliance of the company there could be no question, nor of the power and influence represented; but as to the outcome, the success or otherwise of the evening, there was no knowing. Socially it was already a success, to be sure, a notable achievement at least, for the man who had been outlawed, condemned felon and out-of-favour with the monarch, to have assembled here in his own house such a galaxy of the leaders of the nation and the height of fashion. It represented changed days indeed for Saltoun Hall. But Andrew had invited them here for a purpose, and that might well fail. At least in one aspect of it all his satisfaction was certain; his gaze, in its regular scanning of the richly-dressed and bewigged gathering, kept ever returning to the most distant seat, at the other end of the long table, where Margaret sat, acting his hostess. Even that held its bitter-sweet flavour, of course; but the sight of her, so lovely, so graciously assured, so seemingly at home at his table, dispensing his hospitality, could not be other than a delight to that man, even though Henry sat so much closer to her than did he.

He leaned to his right, to pay heed to what his principal guest was saying-John Hay, Earl of Tweeddale, now Chancellor of Scotland no less, chief minister of the realm. At the other side, his left, William Paterson made laborious conversation with Lady Tweeddale, the Dunfriesshire farmer's son with the aunt of the Duchess of Buccleuch and Monmouth. Next to them sat Margaret Belhaven and Lord President Dalrymple, now promoted Viscount Stair, with across the board his son John, now Master of Stair, Secretary of State for Scotland, and Lady Ormiston whose husband, Adam Cockburn was made a Lord of Session, indeed Lord Justice Clerk. And so on down the

table, the new rulers of Scotland and their ladies sat at
ease, after an excellent repast -
sipping their wine, in the mellow glow of innumerable candles. Sir Patrick Home was now Lord Polwarth and a member of the Privy Council, with a pension of £400 sterling a year, as reward for organising and commanding the militia. Even Johnnie Belhaven was a Privy Councillor and Lord Clerk Register - a more or less honorary office but carrying various privileges and perquisites.

Andrew's inner smile at it all tended to be slightly twisted, cynical. So much for choosing the right side at the right moment - no doubt the art and essence of politics. For himself, he was less agile at it, although possibly the most concerned with and interested in the theory and practice of good government of any present. He was, it seemed, still the awkward one, the odd-man-out, the unfortunate who failed to perceive when to tack before the winds of reality. So there were no titles or privy-councillorships for him. Admittedly he was Laird of Saltoun again, forfeiture cancelled at last - but it had taken almost a year after Killiecrankie for this to be conceded, and without any sort of compensation or even message from William in London. But then, to be sure, William was not much in London these days, much more often back in his own Netherlands. After his great Irish victory on the River Boyne in the summer of 1690, with James Stewart losing all and fleeing back to France, William seemed to have recovered his fondness for soldiering and now found campaigning on the Continent against Louis much more to his taste than playing at kingcraft in England. As for Scotland, he appeared to have no least interest; indeed he was reported to have declared that he wished that country a thousand miles away, with the Duke of Hamilton its king, so that he could be rid of them both.

It was February 1692.

Presently a glance and raised eyebrow from Margaret drew a nod from Andrew and she pushed back her chair and got to her feet. All rose thereafter, and amidst much bowing and pretended deprivation, their hostess led the ladies from the hall to their withdrawing-room. The men settled themselves back, refilled their glasses and lounged the more at ease. After a brief pause, Andrew spoke up.

"My lords and friends all - pleasing as is your company for its own sake, and excellent our mutual converse, I believe that we may be privileged tonight to hear of a matter which could be of the greatest interest and profit to us all and to our whole nation, a matter, a project, which I for one will be surprised and much disappointed if this distinguished company fails to consider closely or undervalues. It will be put to us by my friend Mr. William Paterson, of whom you all will know, more especially those who had occasion to sojourn in the Low Countries in exile during the previous reign where, at Amsterdam and Rotterdam and elsewhere, he acted banker for many of us in that time of our great need, taking many a risk and loss on our behalf. My lords of Stair, Polwarth, Melville and Argyll, as well as my much humbler self, were then much beholden to Mr. Paterson. I think that we, and a great many others, will have reason to be still more so, hereafter."

There was an expectant murmur but some wary glances also.

"Before asking Mr. Paterson to speak to you," Andrew went on, "for those who may be less well acquainted with his name and fame, I should perhaps say a few words. Hailing from Skipmyre near to Dumfries, he was reared largely in England, at Bristol, that great trading-port for the Indies. Then he learned the arts of trade and commerce and went voyaging in their pursuit. Nevertheless he was never a mere merchant-adventurer, being a man of faith as well as of enterprise, so that in the West Indies and the Carolinas he brought the Gospel to many, as well as trading with great success. I mention this as indication that our friend's concern is not wholly with the profit of the purse but also with that of the soul! I suggest that this is unusual, to say the least!"

There was some exclamation at that, not all of it enthusiastic, and the wariness increased rather than diminished. Paterson kept his gaunt-featured head lowered, as though embarrassed.

Andrew smiled, however, and patted his shoulder. "Lest some doubters may consider this last less than an added qualification for commercial advancement and profit, let me add that Mr. Paterson has also been labelled buccaneer, on account of his activities in the Indies and the Carib Sea. But I am assured that such charge emanated only from his English rival traders, who resented his success and the trust he established with the colonists and natives of those parts, in which
they
deemed themselves to have a monopoly. We all know too well of the English trade monopolies, to our cost, my friends - and to this Mr. Paterson will, I think, refer. So for those who doubt whether gospel-preaching and trade go hand-in-hand, be reassured by the buccaneering!"

That drew the anticipated laughter and a distinct heightening of interest.

"Thereafter, trading led Mr. Paterson to money-lending and banking," Andrew resumed. "The Dutch are the world's greatest practitioners of this commerce, as we all know, so it was perhaps natural that he should settle himself in Amsterdam, where he proceeded to teach the Hollanders not a little of their own trade, and so was happily placed to aid myself and so many another from Scotland, whom King James's policies had driven into exile and consequent financial difficulties. I may say that King William himself was glad to avail himself of Mr. Paterson's good service in financing his expedition to England."

Andrew paused to sip at his wine, gauging the reaction. Paterson was a poor speaker, less than persuasive. It was important therefore that the company should be suitably informed and interested beforehand, predisposed to receive his proposals with some eagerness however dully presented. At the same time, these lofty ones must not be bored with too lengthy an introduction, any more than scornful of the humble background of the Dumfriesshire farmer's son. He reckoned that it was time for specifics.

"Since William's accession, my friend has not been idle. With the King's support, indeed at the King's request, he has raised for Charles Montagu, the English Chancellor of the Exchequer, a government loan of no less than £500,000 sterling, to help restore the English Treasury which James Stewart left in such bad state. Half a million pounds sterling, my friends!"

The speaker had no call to be dissatisfied with the effect of that on his hearers. Half a million sterling, privately-raised, was almost beyond the comprehension of most present.

"Furthermore, in order to aid the more in the troubled English economy, and at the same time bring profit and well-being to many subscribers, he has conceived the notion of a
national
banking venture, not a private one, although with individuals participating, which he is calling the Bank of England, and in which he has interested some of the highest in that land. It is a great project, which could well change the entire scope of government spending and taxation - and which we here should examine with the greatest of interest. But, my lords and friends, William Paterson, having done all this for England, does not forget that he was born a Scot. And he would seek to do as much for the land of his birth. And that we have need of some such help none here will deny. Never can our land have been in more sorry state of poverty, stagnating trade and empty purses. We have won freedom from persecution at last, freedom to worship as we will, a parliament to protect our laws and rights. But after two reigns of tyranny and turmoil, the rule of favourites from far-away London, and neglect of all the nation's welfare, Scotland is in dire need, commerce at a standstill, the land not being tilled as it should be, our Treasury, like our pockets, empty. I am told that there are over 200,000 beggars and homeless vagrants in our land! Certainly the countryside, as well as the towns, are full of these sad folk. In these circumstances, my friends, I ask you to listen to what Mr. William Paterson has to say."

There was no dissent. All eyed that spare, rather sad-faced individual expectantly.

Paterson made an unimpressive start, clearing his throat, gulping down some water, fumbling with his clothing. "My lords. And gentlemen. Your lordships
...
I am much beholden. To you all. To Mr. Fletcher. For his kindness. For your attention. I am grateful . . ."

"Speak up, man - do not mumble!" Melville, now Earl thereof, was growing a little deaf.

"I beg your pardon, my lord." Paterson almost shouted that, his voice somewhat difficult for his hearers to follow, more West Country English than West Country Scots. "I'll not delay your lordships for long. I, I plan to set up a company. A Company of Scotland for Trading to Africa and the Indies.

That is what I intend. Aye." He nodded, almost apologetically, and returned to his water-glass. He never drank wine or spirits.

His hearers stared at each other.

"Well, man - well?" Tweeddale prompted.

"A company," the other repeated. "To trade, you see. More than that. To plant colonies. Scots colonies, with sole trading rights and monopolies. To rival England's."

There was utter silence now.

Paterson looked round them. "A company," he repeated. "With subscribers. Scotland's company. Scotland's colonies. Where some of these vagrant folk may go. As colonists. To a new life. And to reap riches, for themselves, for the company, for Scotland. Great riches, as I know."

"Where, sir - where?"

"How can this be? All the colonies are already taken up." "The English, the French, the Dutch, the Spaniards - these have taken all, have they not?" "We are too late, man - too late."

From all around the table voices were raised. Ineloquent or not, he had their attention now.

"Not too late, my lords. There is still a great opportunity-the greatest, perhaps." Paterson warmed to his theme. "We could be the envy of Christendom. For a few hundred thousands of pounds we could hold the world to ransom!" He blinked at his own extravagant hyperbole; it was not often that that man put his soaring vision into soaring words.

Doubts and exitement, distrust, question, speculation were voiced.

"Where is this great opportunity ? Missed by all others?" the Chancellor demanded. "We are not bairns, sir, to be told tales."

"Nor is Mr. Paterson, my lord," Andrew pointed out, strongly. "He
knows
what he says. He has not done what he has done by idle dreaming or child's talk but by achievement, by making two pounds where there was only one, or less, before. The banker cannot afford to deal in bairns' ploys."