The sum of money which was actually lost by Scotland seems small in our day. The amount appears to have been about two hundred and twenty thousand pounds; but the Scotland of the seventeenth century was far less able to bear the loss of this sum, than the France of the nineteenth century was to bear the loss of all the millions which she, like her ancient ally, threw away upon the shores of the Gulf of Darien. And rich as England was, in comparison with Scotland, her condition at this time was not so prosperous as to make her liberal in dealing with other nations. War had brought increased taxation; and our enormous national debt, then beginning to accumulate, was a source of constant alarm. In the country districts farmers were suffering from a long period of agricultural depression, and rents were seldom paid in full. In the towns work was scarce, and the price of bread was rising. The carrying trade languished in spite of the monopoly which English shipping enjoyed under the Navigation Act, and the resistance to granting Scotland what she chiefly demanded, a share in the colonial trade, was increased by complaints which reached this country from across the seas. The Scottish shipowners, it was said, were landing goods in America, and underselling the English merchants; and to such an extent was this done, that Government was called upon to send out men-of-war to stop this illegal traffic.
And so once more England and Scotland were at variance. The Lords and the Commons forgot their quarrels, and combined to address the king against the Scottish Company. William’s reply was that he would endeavour to find some means of escape from the difficulty which had arisen. That no such difficulty could have arisen if there had not been two Parliaments was perfectly clear. The statute under which the Scottish colonists sailed to Darien had received the royal assent, in the Parliament House at Edinburgh, at a time when the king was on the Continent. It was possible that other measures of equal importance to England might become law in the same way; and the subject of the Union again begins to appear in the correspondence of the day.
“You may remember,” Marchmont writes, “your Lordship was speaking a little to me about an Union of the two Kingdoms. I have thought much upon it, and I am of opinion that the generations to come of Scotsmen will bless them and their posterity, who can have a good hand in it.”[119] Two months later he addresses another correspondent on the same subject. “I am confident,” he says, giving his view of Scottish opinion at this time, “if such a thing came to be treated in terms any ways tolerable, it would find a ready concurrence of the far greater part of people of all ranks of this nation.”[120] In January 1700, Vernon, writing to Lord Shrewsbury, says: “My Lord Privy Seal[121] can no sooner hear the word Union named, but he runs blindfold into it, and said all he could think of, for pressing it. My Lord Halifax opposed it; and said they should run any risk rather than be bullied by the Scots’ menaces.”[122]
The contempt for Scotland which Halifax had expressed was common. In another letter Vernon describes how Sir Edward Seymour, in his place in Parliament, said that the Union reminded him of the story about a countryman who was asked to marry a poor wife, and gave as a reason for refusing, “that if he married a beggar, he should have a louse for a portion.” Vernon adds, “this the Scotch have heard, and are very angry at it.”[123]
The king lost no time in declaring his own opinion. In a speech to the Lords he reminded them of the Union, which he had recommended soon after his accession, and again pressed it upon the consideration of Parliament, as the only means by which a constant succession of quarrels between the two countries could be avoided.[124] The Lords at once took his advice, and passed a Bill for appointing commissioners to treat upon the subject of the Union, which they sent to the Commons with the statement that it was a Bill of great consequence.
At this time there was a great feeling of jealousy between the two Houses of Parliament, and the Commons, resenting the action of the Upper House in calling special attention to this Bill, seized the opportunity of picking a quarrel, and appointed a Committee to report whether there were any precedents for specially recommending Bills. The Committee reported that there were several precedents. Bills had been sent with such recommendations, both from the Lords to the Commons, and from the Commons to the Lords. Nevertheless the Commons rejected the Union Bill upon the second reading.[125]
During the summer of 1700 Scotland was in a state of dangerous excitement. “The Scotch look,” Vernon writes, “as if they were ready for any mischief, and that nothing will please them but setting up for themselves.” For the last five years the crops had failed. Thousands had perished from famine. Thousands more had been driven to emigrate. The treasury was exhausted. On the balance of trade there was an annual loss. The Bank of Scotland, established in 1695, found that the whole business of the country could be conducted on a capital of thirty thousand pounds; and so limited was the trade, that neither Glasgow, Dundee, nor Aberdeen could support a branch of the bank.[126] So frightful was the state of things that Fletcher of Saltoun, whose whole mind and soul were given up to an intense love for Scotland, thought that no foundation could be laid for better times except by reducing a great part of the population to slavery.
The Estates had not met for two years. An address calling upon the king to assemble a new Parliament was sent up to London; and it was openly said, that if he refused, a national convention would meet, and meet moreover at Perth, where the members would have “Athol and a part of the Highlands at their backs.” The staunch Whigs of the Lowlands laughed in public at the idea of a rebellion; but they were well aware that society in Scotland was deeply tainted with that Jacobite feeling which afterwards gave so much trouble. It appears, from a letter written by Melville to Carstares, that attempts had been made to tamper even with persons who were known and avowed Whigs. The Duke of Hamilton, “upon his lady’s birthday,” was entertaining a party of his friends, among whom were Queensberry, Argyll, and Leven. After dinner he began to speak in a very confidential manner to Leven, telling him “that he loved him,” that he would do all he could to save him, and that he “would obtain a pardon for him.” Leven asked him what he meant, saying that he had done nothing to require a pardon from King William, and as for King James, he would not accept one from him. Hamilton saw he had gone too far, and explained away what he had said. “It is true,” says Melville, “the duke was very drunk; but post vinum veritas.”[127]
It was plain that the Estates must meet; for not only was the national outcry too loud to be ignored, but, the treasury being empty, supplies must be voted, or the Government could no longer be carried on. But the misery and discontent was so universal, that William could not face a general election. The majority of the old Revolution Parliament, however, were still sound Whigs; and it was resolved to summon it once more. The Government did not rely solely on the help of their own supporters, but made a carefully-planned assault on the votes of the Opposition members. The officers of State themselves undertook the business. Each agreed to canvass a certain number of members. Sometimes they set the parish ministers to work; and in other cases the good offices of a member’s wife were secured. And there is no doubt that besides mere solicitation and appeals to interested motives, there was direct bribery. The result of these transactions was that when the Parliament met, in October 1700, the Government had a majority.[128]