A History of Parliamentary Elections and Electioneering in the Old Days / Showing the State of Political Parties and Party Warfare at the Hustings and in the House of Commons from the Stuarts to Queen Victoria

“THE DUCHESS ACQUITTED; OR, THE TRUE CAUSE OF THE MAJORITY ON THE WESTMINSTER ELECTION.

The Tories in their annoyance resorted to libels of the most ungallant and ungenerous order; they accused the duchess of wholesale bribery, and reported that she had in one instance bought the vote of a butcher with a kiss, a rumour which was immediately seized by the whimsical wits for the basis of endless exaggerations. “The Devonshire, or Most Approved Method of Securing Votes” embodies the butcher episode. The practice of claiming some slight service, rewarded at election times with extravagant liberality, as a subterfuge for bribery, is shown in the duchess engaging an elector to put a stitch in her shoe, and illustrated as “The Wit’s Last Stake; or, the Cobbling Voter and Abject Canvassers.”

Besides “The Devonshire, or Most Approved Method of Securing Votes,” two caricatures appeared on the 12th of April from Rowlandson’s prolific graver: one, exhibiting the struggle between the fair canvassers arrayed in rivalry at Covent Garden hustings, under the symbol of “The Poll:” a balancing plank, whereon the beauteous Georgiana “Devon’s Queen,” is elevated high in the air, while her stouter rival, the Hon. Mrs. Hobart (Lady Buckinghamshire), is overweighing her extremely. Above the heads of the group, which includes the rival candidates, Fox, Hood, and Wray, flutters a placard, “The Rival Candidates, a Farce.” Against Wray was revived, in allusion to the Court patronage under which he was fighting, the well-worn cry of “Slavery and wooden shoes,” and much stress was laid on the extreme measure of polling the Guards as householders; in reference to the two hundred and eighty votes given by soldiers at one time in a body—an astounding manœuvre, which shocked constitutional minds—appeared the placard:—

“All Horse Guards, Grenadier Guards, Foot Guards, and Black-Guards, that have not polled for the destruction of Chelsea Hospital and the Tax on Maidservants are desired to meet at the Gutter Hole, opposite the Horse Guards, where they will have a full bumper of knock-me-down and plenty of soap-suds, before they go to the poll for Sir Cecil Wray or eat. N.B.—Those who have no shoes or stockings may come without, there being a quantity of wooden shoes provided for them.”

A further presentment of the famous canvassing duchess, whose prominence at the great Westminster election of 1784 gave her such universal and lasting celebrity, is offered by Rowlandson in a fanciful domestic interior at Devonshire House, where the favoured candidate, Fox, and his staunch and invaluable ally, “brave Sammy House,” are introduced as “Lords of the Bedchamber” (April 14, 1784). In the caricaturist’s highly imaginary version, the duchess is entertaining the pair with a cup of tea in her boudoir; above her hangs the Reynolds portrait of her liege-lord. Sam House, in his publican’s jacket, otherwise attired in that neat costume which became historical, is stirring the cup “that cheers but not inebriates” with an air of supreme contentment, while Fox is patting, in friendly familiarity, the no less remarkable completely bald head of his indefatigable supporter by way of encouragement.

The third plate, “The Westminster Watchman,” is inscribed—

“To the Independent Electors of Westminster, this Print of their staunch old watchman, the guardian of their rights and privileges, is dedicated by a grateful Elector. N.B.—Beware of Counterfeits, as the Greenwich and Chelsea Watchmen are upon the look-out!”

Fox is standing firm, with his cap of “Liberty;” and the lamp of “Truth” is shedding its light around, the Whig chief is unmoved by the storm of “ministerial thunderbolts;” a trusty dog, “Vigilance,” is by his side; the “Counterfeits” are shuffling off, Hood for Greenwich, and Wray for Chelsea.

The ballads, epigrams, and poetical jeux d’esprit to which the circumstances of this famous contest gave birth are sufficiently numerous to fill a volume. The rhymsters on both sides were evidently resolved to do their best: many of the lyrics and “squibs” are worthy of preservation; they are as a rule far above the average compositions evoked upon similar occasions. The tuneful songster, Captain Morris, wrote many of the most graceful and witty “impromptus” and verses. The bards of “Opposition” were severe upon the Court influence exerted against Fox’s cause, and justly exposed some of the manœuvres resorted to by Pitt’s adherents.

It was the old story of intimidation, undue influence, and coercion, as practised at the Westminster elections for the best part of a century. The scene of the hustings is thus sketched:—

“A CONCISE DESCRIPTION OF COVENT GARDEN AT THE PRESENT WESTMINSTER ELECTION.

Allusions to the machinations of “the King’s Friends” were abundant:—

“STANZAS IN SEASON.

The countenance shown to Fox by the youthful rank, fashion, and wealth of the day excited the bitterness of Tory rhymsters. The active partisanship of the Prince of Wales was a source of caustic recrimination and envy:—

Arrayed on the Whig chief’s side was all the beauty and grace of fair and fascinating wives and daughters of the Whig aristocracy, a bevy of lovely political Circes, whose enchantments were all potent:—

“ON SEEING LADY BEAUCHAMP, LADY CARLISLE, AND LADY DERBY IN THEIR CARRIAGES, ON MR. FOX’S SIDE OF THE HUSTINGS.

The Duchess of Devonshire was idolized by enthusiastic Whigs, who hailed in her the salvation of the cause:—

“ON SEEING THE DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE, LADY DUNCANNON, ETC., CANVASSING FOR MR. FOX.

“ON A CERTAIN DUCHESS.

Walpole’s lovely nieces, the three Ladies Waldegrave, added the influence of their charms to those of the winsome Georgiana, and were gallantly apostrophized with “Devon’s Queen:”—

The influence of this novel captivation upon the hearts of those so happy as to be admitted to the electoral franchise acted like magic:—

“EPIGRAM ON THE DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE.

The compliments poured forth at the altar of this fair divinity were not alone addressed to the beauty of her face, the grace of her person, the excellence of her heart, and her captivating manners,—her intellectual charms also secured due recognition:—

“IMPROMPTU ON HER GRACE OF DEVONSHIRE.

Although every concession was made to the empire of Beauty, many of the verses were slyly sarcastic, while some of the caricatures were strongly coloured by the uncompromising coarseness of the age:—

“ODE TO THE DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE.

“THE PARADOX OF THE TIMES.

As an antidote to the bitterness there was, however, a surfeit of “sweets:”—

“A NEW SONG, TO THE TUNE OF ‘LET THE TOAST PASS.’

The turn of affairs which placed Fox in a majority over Sir Cecil Wray, who for some time was in advance of the Whig chief, is summed up by Rowlandson, amongst other caricaturists, as “The Case is altered” (April 29, 1784). The election had nearly another three weeks to run, but already the satirists were forecasting the result. Fox, be it remembered, had other resources in reserve, and, at the close of the poll, when Wray demanded a scrutiny, and the high bailiff illegally declined to make his return, he was seated for Kirkwall. In the caricaturist’s version, the election has already settled Wray’s chances, and Fox is magnanimously driving off his defeated opponent, and late dependent, to Lincoln: the ministerial candidate is travelling, “without drums or trumpets,” smuggled away from the exciting platform of the hustings, in the “Lincolnshire caravan for paupers;” he is buried in self-contemplation,—“I always was a poor dog, but now I am worse than ever.” The generous Fox, charioteering his renegade protégé, is volunteering, “I will drive you to Lincoln, where you may superintend the small beer and brickdust.” Lord Hood’s majority was safe at the head of the poll,—for no reason which history has made manifest; he is pictured as suddenly surprising the degrading pauper-conveyance, and, in compassion for his late colleague, is exclaiming, much moved at these reverses, “Alas, poor Wray!”

The doings of the Duchess of Devonshire, her sister, Lady Duncannon, and their fair following of female canvassers are pictorially treated by the caricaturist in his version of “The Procession to the Hustings after a Successful Canvass,” in which a select group of outlying voters, secured after much exertion, are seen conducted in triumph, and with “rough music,” to the polling-place. The circumstance that, chiefly owing to the opportune assistance of the Duchess, Fox was placed second on the poll was commemorated in “Every Man has his Hobby-horse.” Fox may truly be said to have been carried into the House of Commons by his fair coadjutor.

The fact that Wray—who, as a double “Renegado,” shortly rejoined the Whigs—appears to have gained but scant sympathy, was defeated and done for, is turned to satirical account in a travestied view of Fox, North, and the Duchess—the latter wearing a foxtail in her hat—“For the Benefit of the Champion.—A Catch, to be performed at the New Theatre, Covent Garden. For admission apply to the Duchess. N.B.—Gratis to those who wear large tails;” the lady is pointing to a headstone put up in memory of “Poor Cecil Wray, Dead and turned to Clay.”

The fate of Wray, with Fox reinstated in his seat for Westminster, and the concluding election scenes at Covent Garden are figured in “The Westminster Deserter Drumm’d out of the Regiment.” Sam House, with his perfectly bald head, and dressed in the clean and natty nankeen jacket and trousers, his invariable wear summer and winter, is drumming Wray off the stage: “May all Deserters feel Public Resentment”—is the sentiment of both the indignant Chelsea veterans and buxom maid-servants to whom Wray’s projects had given mortal offence. “The Man of the People” is planting the standard of Liberty and Britannia, and acknowledging his gratitude to his supporters with simple fervour—“Friends and fellow-citizens, I cannot find words to express my feelings to you on the victory.”

Finally, as an apotheosis of the fair champion who had contributed most of all to the success and glory of the triumph over the Court, Rowlandson etched the allegorical picture of “Liberty and Fame introducing Female Patriotism to Britannia.”

At the close of the poll, Fox was 235 votes ahead of Wray, but, as related, the high bailiff, Corbett, acting partially, refused to return him on the plea that a scrutiny had been demanded; Fox was also a candidate for Kirkwall, so that, in case of defeat at Westminster he might still have a seat.

At the end of the election there was an immense crowd collected for the chairing of Fox. A classic car was prepared, an improvement on the perilous glory of being hoisted on the shoulders of excited chairmen, or, worse still, lifted on those of volunteers—intoxicated alike with enthusiasm and drinking toasts. The Whig chief mounted his triumphal chariot; a multitudinous procession following, closed by the state-carriages of the Duchesses of Portland and Devonshire, drawn by six horses each. Fox descended from the car at Devonshire House, where was erected a temporary scaffolding, on which was raised a bevy of notabilities, including the Prince of Wales, with the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire, to whose exertions Fox owed a debt of gratitude. A commemorative dinner was given at Willis’s Rooms, where Fox made a glowing speech on the subject of the election. The Prince of Wales, after attending the king at a review at Ascot, rode up St. James’s Street in his uniform, and was received with acclamations, in acknowledgment of his partisanship for the Whig chief, whose favours he wore,—and ended his day of triumph by dining at Devonshire House, where he appeared wearing Fox’s colours (the Washington uniform), and with a laurel branch in token of victory.

The party rejoicings and festivities at the conclusion of this election are felicitously related by Wraxall, who enjoyed the advantages of himself participating in the scenes he pictures. “Still the Whigs were not to be disappointed of their ovation. The exultation of those gay times forms a strange contrast to the grim monotony of our own. Fox, after being chaired in great pomp through the streets, was finally carried into the court-yard of Carlton House. The Prince’s plume was on his banners in acknowledgment of princely partisanship. A banner, inscribed ‘Sacred to Female Patriotism,’ recorded the services of the Duchess. The carriages of the Dukes of Devonshire and Portland, each drawn by six horses, moved in procession, and Fox’s own carriage was a pile of rejoicing Whiggism. On its boxes and traces, and where they could, sat Colonel North, afterwards Lord Guilford; Adam, who but a few years before wounded the patriot in a duel; and a whole cluster of political friends, followers, and expectants. The prince came to the balustrade before the house64 to cheer him, with a crowd of fashionable people. Fox finished the triumph by an harangue to the mob, and they in return finished by a riot, an illumination, and breaking Lord Temple’s windows.

“But the festivities were scarcely begun. The prince threw open his showy apartments to the nobility, and gave them a brilliant fête in the gardens, which happened to be at its height just when the king was passing through St. James’s Park in state to open the new parliament. The rival interests were within a brick wall of each other, and their spirit could not have been more strangely contrasted than in their occupations. But nights and days to those graceful pursuers of pleasure and politics alike knew no intermission. On that very evening the celebrated beautiful and witty Mrs. Crewe gave a brilliant rout, in which ‘blue and buff’ were the universal costume of both sexes; the buff and blue were the uniform of Washington and his troops, and imprudently adopted by Fox to declare his hostility to the Government. The prince himself appeared in the party colours. At supper, he toasted the fair giver of the feast in the words ‘True Blue and Mrs. Crewe.’ The lady, not unskilfully, and with measureless applause, returned it by another, ‘True Blue and all of you.’”

With the enforced termination of the polling at the fortieth day, arrived the demand of Wray for a scrutiny, and the high bailiff’s unjustifiable attitude, for which he subsequently suffered severely, of declining to make a return, compelled Fox to look elsewhere for a seat, or find no place in the coming parliament, where, as Walpole said, could Fox have stood for every seat in the kingdom he would have represented the entire return in his own person, such was his influence and popularity. “The Departure,” (May 18, 1784), the day succeeding the close of the poll, shows Fox leaving behind him the palatial abode of his warm supporter, the Prince of Wales, and taking leave of his delectable champions, the Duchess of Devonshire and her sister, the fair Lady Duncannon, en route for “Coventry” or “Out-in-the-cold-shire.” Fox is observing on his retreat:—

Fox’s early ally, Burke, equipped as an outrider, is prepared to drive his friend away from the scene of his triumphs; under Edmund’s arm is a “plan of economy,” suggestive of necessary retrenchments in the Whig camp.

Among the tactics of the Ministerialists may be reckoned the ominous “scrutiny,” which was threatened directly Fox’s votes began to outnumber those in favour of his rival, Wray. On Fox’s success this intention was carried out, the returning officer acting partially in order to connive at the manœuvre; a scrutiny being notoriously a tedious, lengthy, and costly affair, and hence more vexations to Fox than to the combined forces of his opponents. This circumstance is illustrated by the caricaturist, nearly a twelvemonth later; when the excitement of the protracted contest had cooled down, Fox secured another victory over his adversaries, which is commemorated in Rowlandson’s version of the affair (March 7, 1785), entitled:—

“Defeat of the high and mighty Balissimo Corbettino and his famed Cecilian forces, on the plains of St. Martin, on Thursday, the 3rd day of February, 1785, by the Champion of the People and his chosen band, after a smart skirmish, which lasted a considerable time, in which many men were lost on both sides. But their great ally at length losing ground, desertions took place, and notwithstanding their vast superiority in numbers and weight of metal at the first onset, this increased apace, altho’ often rallied by the ablest man in command, till at length the forces gave way in all quarters, and they were totally overthrown. This print is dedicated to the Electors of the City and Liberty of Westminster, who have so nobly stood forth and supported their champion upon this trying occasion, by an Independent Elector.”

Rowlandson has pictured the rival combatants at the head of their learned forces. Fox’s lawyers are triumphant, and armed with such legal weapons as “Eloquence,” “Truth,” “Perseverance,” and “Law;” the Whig chief, in person, is dealing vengeance upon the disconcerted figures of his antagonists, Wray and Corbett. Fox had successfully prosecuted his action and recovered heavy damages against the bailiff, who, as a courtier, had made himself the tool of the Ministerialists. Fox is defended by his buckler, “Majority 38;” he is wielding the keen sword of “Justice;” a laurel crown is placed on the chieftain’s brow by a celestial messenger, who is charged with the decision of the Law Court—“It is ordered that Thomas Corbett, Esq., do immediately return.” Fox is declaring:—

“The wrath of my indignation is kindled, and I will pursue them with a mighty hand and outstretched arm until justice is done to those who have so nobly supported me.”

Sir Cecil Wray’s defence of “Ingratitude” is a sorry shield for the protection of himself or of his fallen ally; his sword is broken; in despair he cries, “My knees wax feeble, and I sink beneath the weight of my own apostasy.” The high bailiff is cast down; he confesses, “My conscience is now at peace.” Another supporter of the returning officer is exclaiming, “Help, help! our chief is fallen. O conscience, support me!” Corbett’s lawyers have turned their abashed backs on their client and his cause: “Nor law, nor conscience, nor the aid of potent Ministers, can e’er support the contest ’gainst such a chief!” “Our support is gone, and we are fallen into a Pitt; yea, even into a deep Pitt!”—the premier having been unable to protect the guilty against the consequences of their act.

CHAPTER XI.
REMARKABLE ELECTIONS AND POLITICAL MEETINGS, 1788 TO 1807.

We have seen Admiral Lord Hood’s energetic canvass at the great Westminster election, when, with the powerful assistance of the Court, he fought the Whigs, but failed to hinder Fox’s election. In spite of the victory gained in 1784 by their opponents, four years later the ministerialists and the “king’s friends” were again forced into a fresh contest on the same field, and more ignominiously defeated; the popular Lord Hood, their chosen champion, having in July, 1788, been appointed to a seat at the Admiralty Board, as a recognition of his services to Government, a fresh election was necessary for the city of Westminster. The Whigs were still to the front, and Lord John Townshend came forward and canvassed in that interest, with such strong support from the Opposition that the ministers now experienced a more inglorious reverse, their candidate being unseated, although recourse was had to every expedient, lawful or otherwise, that could promote the return of Hood, the Government nominee. After the close of the poll, which showed Lord John Townshend with 6392 votes, to Lord Hood’s 5569, thus giving two Whig members for Westminster, Gillray exposed the corrupt practices of the Court agents in the caricature, published on August 14, 1788, entitled, “Election Troops Bringing in their Accounts to the Pay-Table.” The premier is seen behind the bars of the Treasury gates; the undisguised and direct applications of his quondam allies are so compromising that it is inexpedient to admit the claimants, or acknowledge an acquaintance with such disreputable connections; but a saving compromise is suggested. Pitt is made to plausibly protest, “I know nothing of you, my friends. Lord Hood pays all the expenses himself;” then, in a whisper, “Hush! go to the back-door in Great George Street, under the Rose.” Sir George Rose was Pitt’s secretary and factotum; he is chiefly seen in the contemporary satires as associated with what was called “back-stairs influence,” of which he may be accepted as chamberlain; his scene of operations was generally represented as the “back-door of the Treasury,” where he diplomatically carried out the stratagems of the premier—especially, as in the present instance—in the indirect recognition of secret services.

Foremost in the rank of election troops is the modish Major Topham, a conspicuous personage in his day, who frequently appears in the caricatures of the time; his notoriety was due to the World, a society newspaper of the last century, of which the major was proprietor, editor, and fashionable gossip-monger. Topham has brought a copy of his organ to prove the active support he had lent the Government during the Westminster contest, and is the first to present his bill “for puffs and squibs, and for abusing the Opposition.”

A ragged newsboy from the Star has also brought his journal and a claim for payment “for changing sides, for hiring ballad-singers, and Grub Street writers.” As usual, some scenes of a desperate character had marked the election, and three downright bullies, giant troopers of the Guards, with ensanguined bayonets as evidence of their late employment, demand pay “for the attack in Bow Street;” a publican brings in a reckoning “for eating and drinking for jackass boys;” ballad-singers have come to claim “five shillings a day” for their professional services; a cobbler, with Hood’s cockade, presents a modest bill “for voting three times” as “an independent elector;” a clothesman of the Hebrew persuasion is clamouring for money “for perjury, and procuring Jew voters;” and a body of Hood’s sailors, armed with formidable cudgels, are come for payment “for kicking up a row,”—as in the election of 1784, Hood’s boisterous sailors were brought up to the hustings to support their admiral, and were particularly violent and reckless in their zeal for the cause, intimidating those voters who were recognized as favouring the opposite party, and forcibly keeping them away from the polling booth. These jolly Jack Tars, with perfect singleness of mind, and oblivious of nice distinctions which they did not understand, were filled to overflowing with explosive loyalty for the king, and fealty for their admiral; but on this occasion the sailors were beaten by the Irish chairmen with hearty goodwill, and, with their patron, Lord Hood, experienced a defeat.

In 1790, it is consolatory to find that the gallant Lord Hood was again returned for Westminster; Fox heading the poll with 3516 votes; Hood, as a good second, with 3217: on this occasion the Whigs lost a seat, for John Horne Tooke, although so prominent a figure, failed to repeat the success of Lord John Townshend, 1679 votes were polled for the “Parson of Brentford,” otherwise John Horne Tooke, the celebrated philologist.

Curious anomalies were witnessed under the old boroughmongering system, anterior to the sweeping measure of reform. Helston, in Cornwall, was a typical case. The elective franchise was formerly invested in the corporation, which consisted of the mayor, who was the returning officer, eleven aldermen, and twenty-five common council-men, thirty-six in all. The old charter of Elizabeth was confirmed by Charles I., and, according to common report, there survived but one elector under this charter in 1790, to whose lot accordingly fell the unusual distinction of nominating two representatives on his own account.

The family interest of the Osbornes (Duke of Leeds) proved so paramount as to here prevent any hope of successfully contesting against their power.

It is interesting to find that a certain grace was lent to the generally discordant elements of electioneering by the zealous participation of Beauty in the canvassing department, where the seductive wiles of female charms and persuasions were relied upon, it is understood, with reason.

The assistance of the fair sex was much relied upon for soliciting and securing votes; but at such turbulent times, when licence predominated, the electioneering Circes must have been prepared for brusque exchanges of pleasantry, though hardly for such encounters as the one preserved in Gillray’s “Proof of the Refined Feelings of an Amiable Character, lately a Candidate for a Certain Ancient City.”

Some obscurity surrounds the incident represented; obviously the caricature was destined for electioneering purposes, but the positive history cannot he traced. It is assumed that the three circumstances of the candidate being “an eccentric,” a sportsman, and a representative of a cathedral city point to Sir Charles Turner (created a baronet by the Marquis of Rockingham in 1782), who represented York from 1768 to 1783. This gentleman always dressed as a sportsman, wearing a green coat, “tally-ho” buttons, with top-boots, etc., upon all occasions; he was described by Coombe (Royal Register) as the “Marplot” of his own party, “and in his parliamentary capacity demands the pity of his friends, the contempt of the wise, and makes himself a laughing stock for the crowd.” On the discussion of Pitt’s motion for parliamentary reform, May 7, 1782, Sir Charles Turner by his blunt originality attracted more attention than either the mover or seconder; he declared—

“that in his opinion the House of Commons might be justly considered as a parcel of thieves, who, having stolen an estate, were apprehensive of allowing any person to see their title deeds, from the fear of again losing it by such an inspection.”

The personage depicted by Gillray is flourishing his whip “Pro bono Patriæ,” and forcibly demonstrating his aversion to rival canvassers of the gentle sex, much to the consternation of the ecclesiastical hierarchy and gownsmen, while the rough townsmen are cheering their eccentric candidate, and promising to support him.

It is to Gillray that we owe the version embodying the glorification of autocratic boroughmongering as “The Pacific Entrance of Earl Wolf into Blackhaven,” January, 1792. Before Lord Grey’s Reform Bill altered the constituencies, in the sordid old days of corrupt influence, when the representative system of electing parliaments was purely theoretical, a certain number of territorial magnates apportioned about half the constituencies between them; of this, the “upper order,” or aristocratic patrons, trafficked in the seats in exchange for “honours” for themselves, or lent their boroughs to support ministerial influence in return for places and pensions, or offices—sinecures for choice—in which to provide for their less opulent relations; thus in the old lists of place-holders, pensioners, and “ministerial patronage” may be traced the younger sons and cousins in several degrees, besides the names of those who have by marriage entered the families of the prime holders of “marketable ware,” otherwise parliamentary interest. When boroughmongering was a profession—a very highly paid one—and boroughs were farmed for sale, it might be expected that a less elevated class of adventurers would treat the question of buying and selling “seats” in parliament like any ordinary item of commerce, as was the fact; the markets fluctuated, thus we find Lord Chesterfield, whose authority is unquestionable, looking round for some venal borough to bring in that young hopeful to whom he addressed the famous “Letters,” thinking it a finishing part of a gentleman’s training to be in the House; the ex-ambassador communicated with an agent, proposing to pay “twenty-four hundred pounds for a seat,” presumably the price in Chesterfield’s younger days; but he found seats had risen to inordinate rates—up to five thousand pounds—owing to imported competition, chiefly rich factors returned home with fortunes from the East and West Indies. Bubb Dodington has set down in his “Diary” how he, the lordly proprietor of this said “marketable ware,” went about bargaining to bring in ministerial nominees for his five or six seats in exchange for places at the disposal of the administration; and instances might be multiplied to a tedious extent from the journals of the House containing the evidence of trafficking in boroughs and buying up voters, en gros et en détail, as disclosed on controverted elections.

This condition of affairs produced a mechanical majority as long as the prime minister in power could command wealth and influence sufficient to secure a larger number of seats than the opposition. It was in this direction that the famous electioneering genius, the Marquis of Wharton, spent a hundred thousand pounds in William III. and Queen Anne’s days; while Walpole manipulated such huge sums, thinly disguised as “Secret Service Money,” that, never wealthy enough to purchase all, and meeting occasional honest members, he was, at intervals, impeached for corruption in a House two-thirds venal, as it is alleged.

Walpole’s successors, who finally drove him from office, bought elections on even a more extended scale; the Pelhams were clever dissemblers and apt negotiators for this commodity; it was written of the Duke of Newcastle, by his antagonist, Lord Hervey, it is believed:—