The Patriot (55 page)

Once within and the doors locked again, it was evident that no business-like procedure was likely to be possible for some time. For one thing, quite a large proportion of the members had not been able to get there, including many of the ministerial team. And everyone was in a state of excitement, agitation and resentment. The first day of any new session was apt to be much taken up with ceremonial anyway, and this no one was in any mood for. Eventually it was decided that, since the crowds outside were growing ever more vociferous and the door-banging worse, probably the best thing to do, to try to appease the populace, was to announce that the innumerable deputations out there amongst the clamouring throng should be allowed in to present their petitions, overtures and protests, the Horse Guards to seek to keep the unauthorised out.

So, after much noisy delay and false starts, this was put in process, beginning with the General Assembly of the Kirk's overture. No lengthy speeches were permitted and even the reading out of the petitions was curtailed. Soon nobody was listening. It seemed that the Kirk, and indeed some of the burghs, expected the Duke of Hamilton to present their protests for them - and were disappointed, for that nobleman curtly refused and went to hide himself in an anteroom. Just how it had come about that Hamilton had become, as it were, the focus of the nation's hopes and fears, was hard to understand; but clearly it was so, and he proved to be something of a broken reed.

This petition presenting went on and on, Andrew's public campaigning proving all too successful. The lengthy process did help to diffuse the tense situation outside but that was about all it did, for inside little attention was being paid to all the announcements and eloquence save by the parliamentary clerks and a few activists like Andrew himself. Indeed when, during one deputation's egress and another's ingress, somebody plaintively demanded what they were to do with all these petitions piling up, the Duke of Argyll suggested that they make kites of them.

So much for the voice of the people.

Andrew had deliberately planned his country-electorate demonstration for the second day, recognising that the first would be fairly fully occupied with formal business. But he had scarcely foreseen that nothing at all would get done on the opening day, other than the receiving of these petitions. But that was the situation. After hours of deputation-visits, controlled with difficulty, the crowds outside grew bored and began to disperse. And recognising a relative quiet, and the opportunity presented to make a reasonably safe departure, Seafield and Queensberry announced adjournment till the morrow, and all were glad enough to call it a day.

But, of course, the excitement and its causes were not removed nor exhausted, only transferred to the houses, taverns and streets of the city, for commissioners and populace alike, and by no means lessened by being damped down throughout the day by inaction. Edinburgh passed a wild night. Indeed,
since only a small proportion of the crowds had been able to besiege Parliament Hall, the rest appeared to have gone on the rampage elsewhere. The houses of known pro-union figures, including that of the hitherto popular ex-Lord Provost Johnston, had been broken into and sacked. Windows were smashed, effigies hanged and burned and marchers through the town chanted "No union!"

But there was word of more serious upheavals than these. The town was buzzing with stories that the Cameronians were on the way north in their thousands, in arms. Some put them already at Hamilton town only thirty-seven miles away, where they were said to be only awaiting the Duke thereof to put himself at their head and to descend upon the capital, to show the unionists what Scottish independence meant. There were tales of large numbers of Highlanders congregated at Stirling, with dire prophesies as to what they were liable to do; but since the Duke of Atholl had been in Parliament Hall that day, behaving normally, Andrew for one discounted any dramatics from that quarter.

Next day the streets were as crowded and noisy as ever. Some of the High Commissioner Queensberry's personal following had been set upon overnight and maltreated. Argyll, Mar, Loudoun and even Montrose, of the Squadrone, complained of being attacked and insulted at their lodgings. The Earl of Erroll, High Constable of the Realm, had been brought in to keep order, at least around Parliament Hall, but declared that he could not trust the militiamen allotted to him. In this spirit the great debate began.

Andrew scored an early victory by demanding, and winning, the House's support that the Articles of the union treaty be debated one by one, each to be voted upon separately. This should at least prevent any pushing through of the measure by a catch-vote. The ministry, evidently recognising that it might be touch-and-go, decided to give in on small details in the hope of getting the main provisions swallowed. They accepted part of the Kirk's overture, that the Coronation Oath should bind the monarch to maintain the Presbyterian form of Church government. They agreed to recommend the reduction of the Salt Tax, for Scotland - a sore point in a country which
manufactured salt in large quantities and one of whose greatest exports was salted-fish. They conceded that the English Malt Tax imposition should be delayed. And cunningly they let it be known that numerous vacancies in profitable office, especially of judges of the Court of Session and of sheriffs, would not be filled until Parliament concluded - and that Queensberry had been given a blank commission to fill them. Also that there was an extra £15,500 sterling available from London for 'arrears of pension'.

By these means the first Article put to the vote was passed by a majority of thirty-two, most of the Squadrone members voting with the government. Had they voted otherwise, the union would have been lost.

Grimly Andrew recognised that now it was time to apply outside pressure.

He discovered, however, that a serious hitch had developed. The five hundred or so county electors, who had come to Edinburgh, during these two days had decided that, in view of the reception accorded to all the other petitioners the previous day, it would be better not to present their protest to Parliament as such but directly to the High Commissioner, from whom they hoped to get agreement to see them, as representing the Queen. Andrew saw some point in this. But in order to obtain Queensberry's attention they had decided that only an approach on the highest level was likely to be successful, by someone that duke could scarcely refuse. So they had elected to ask the Duke of Hamilton, premier peer, to act their spokesman. And Hamilton had agreed - and then later sent word that his agreement depended upon the electoral group's acceptance of the succession to the crown of the Electress Sophia and her son George. This bombshell, so utterly unexpected from one who himself had been named as a possible royal successor, had quite shattered the country gentry, of whom many were Jacobite sympathisers and almost all against the Hanoverian succession. There had been an angry and unruly meeting, whilst the Estates had been sitting, and the five hundred had split up into factions, Jacobite, Catholic, Episcopalian, Presbyterian, yeas and noes. Quite a large proportion had thereupon marched out and gone home.

Appalled, Andrew sought to gather what he could of those remaining in the city for a petition-presenting on the morrow. In the process, that evening, he discovered that this was not Hamilton's only contribution to the day. He had apparently sent off urgent messengers to Hamilton town countermanding the Cameronians assembly there and ordering all connected therewith to return home - allegedly because he had heard that their marching was to be used as an excuse by the English army at Berwick to invade.

That night the mood in Edinburgh was noticeably changed. There was an element of despair evident now in the city, even though there was a wilder note in the demonstrations and disorders. Hamilton was no longer cheered in the streets. Windows in his wing of the palace were smashed.

Next day Queensberry, no doubt well informed, refused to accept Andrew's request to receive his gentry. Only a modest deputation was permitted to make one more brief presentation of protest-note before Parliament itself - a grievously disappointing expression of all their hopes.

Depressed, Andrew and Belhaven sought desperately for some remedy to counter the creeping, thickening miasma of defeat.

Delay at least they could achieve. In the days following, they and their friends took up most of the Estates' debating time by eloquence and tactical devices. Johnnie especially distinguished himself by speaking literally for hours, with of course interruptions, on an expanding theme that saw their ancient Mother Caledonia, like Caesar, sitting amongst them all and beholding ruefully how she was betrayed, covering herself with her royal garment before breaking out at last with
'Et tu, mi
fili!’
This drew tears from some and laughter from others; but Andrew saw that this theatrical representation could be used with effect on many and could be applied daily to almost all the clauses debated; master of parliamentary tactics as he was, he saw to it that it was so.

So they managed to postpone the voting.

The delay they used to endeavour to muster and revitalise the demoralised county-electorate gentry who, properly handled, might still be a potent force. But Andrew found it hard
going, the aura of failure, corruption and treachery widespread and spreading. He also found that the Duke of Hamilton had been busy again. He had informed some of his supporters amongst the gentry - and there were not a few Hamiltons therein - that union was now inevitable and that they must concentrate on trying to make it a federal and not an incorporating one. He believed that they could achieve this by trading their agreement to the Hanoverian succession. It was the only way, he was convinced. If they would back him in this, he would carry the anti-union vote in the House, and the Squadrone too, sufficiently to give them a majority.

Andrew was more than doubtful, more especially in that the Duke had not approached
him
on the matter, indeed seemed to be carefully avoiding him these days. He was prepared to admit that the anti-union cause was in great danger; but to accept any kind of union went sorely against the grain - and he was by no means convinced that England would agree to any federal union, even with the Hanoverian succession granted. He urged the gentry not to commit themselves to Hamilton's plan, asserting that they had not yet reached so desperate a remedy.

Oddly enough new ammunition for his fight reached him that same night, when an anonymous caller handed in a letter to his town lodging. It contained a list of payments made to Scots lords and commissioners from moneys sent by the English Treasury. There was no signature nor indication from whom the list had come - but Andrew could imagine no source other than the Lord Advocate's office. Some of the names and figures thereon raised his eyebrows high indeed.

So next day, distasteful as he found his task, he threw gentlemanly scruples to the wind and went into all-out attack. After Johnnie Belhaven had exhausted himself, and the House, and yet two more clauses were passed by the usual majorities, Andrew rose to challenge the clause which accepted that the Scots representation in the United Kingdom Parliament should be only forty-five elected members and sixteen peers. Did they all recognise what this meant, he demanded? In the Commons, the Scots voice could always be outvoted by thirteen to one. And in the Lords by twice that - even the
English bishops alone could outvote Scotland. Moreover the treaty terms, limiting the Scots peers to sixteen, put no limits on how many peers of England the crown could create. So it was all a travesty of fair dealing as it was of representation.

He paused, and jabbed an accusing finger in various specific directions. Does the House know, he asked, at what price this shameful surrender of their country's r
ights has been purch
ased? The worth of Scotland's honour, to some of her accepted leaders? He would give them one or two examples -although the list was long. And he would start with his old friend and comrade-in-arms, the former Sir Patrick Home, now Earl of Marchmont. Marchmont's price was £1,104.15.7 sterling, paid through
the Earl of Glasgow from the En
glish Treasury!

A roar of mixed astonishment, outrage, protest and fury shook the hall, the Chancellor's gavel scarcely to be heard. As it continued, Marchmont rose, set-faced, stared at Andrew and then, without even bowing to the throne, hurried from the chamber.

When the noise abated sufficiently for the Chancellor to be heard, Seafield declared that this was utterly disgraceful and not to be tolerated. The commissioner for Haddingtonshire must apologise to the noble Earl and to the House and make no more such outrageous statements.

"I do not apologise, my lord Chancellor. Nor can you muzzle me! This is a matter of public moneys of which this House has the right to hear. None can deny that, even if the payments were intended to be secret! Some other friends of mine - or at least they
were
my friends - have done almost as well. My lord Marquis of Tweeddale, for instance, has charged £1,000 for his vote - although he used to be against union. My lord of Roxburghe only got £500 - but he is younger, of course
...
!"

Again the eruption of clamour and outcry.

Tweeddale was on his feet. "I protest, my lord Chancellor -I protest! Such sums as I have received were only arrears of pension. For the time that I h
eld office in Her Grace's minis
try..."