From the pages of Pepys we are reminded that members of parliament were paid for their services up to Charles II.’s reign.
It might be expected that the secretary’s “Diary” would contain some pertinent observation upon elections; he has set down a good deal upon parliamentary matters that is curious and enlightening, but the diary ceases in May, 1669, and the more remarkable election contests commenced later.
Samuel Pepys was evidently as indifferent as were the courtiers of his day to the relatively vital importance of the Commons to the State. While accompanying the reforming member William Prynne, who had accused Sir G. Carteret of selling places,4 from Whitehall to the Temple, the diarist in return for the hospitality of his coach, endeavoured to obtain some information by the way as to the manner of holding parliaments, and whether the number of knights and burgesses were always the same. To which Prynne replied—
“that the latter were not; but that, for aught he can find, they were sent up at the discretion, at first of the Sheriffs, to whom the writs were sent to send up generally the Burgesses and citizens of their county, and he do find that heretofore the Parliament-men, being paid by the country, several boroughs have complained of the Sheriffs putting them to the charge of sending up Burgesses.”
This conversation was in January, 1668; in March, Pepys describes his dining with certain counsel retained by creditors of the navy, the secretary having been to Cursitor Street to arrange assignments on the Exchequer to the tune of £1,250,000 in favour of these creditors. The counsel were pleased to flatter Mr. Secretary upon a recent performance of his in the Parliament House, and, finding himself with four learned lawyers, Pepys, with his dinner, enjoyed what he calls “a great deal of good discourse about parliament”—
“their number being uncertain, and always at the will of the king to increase, as he saw reason to erect a new borough. But all concluded the bane of the Parliament hath been the leaving off the old custom of the places allowing wages to those that served them in Parliament, by which they chose men that understood their business and would attend it, and they could expect an account from, which now they cannot, and so the Parliament is become a company of men unable to give account for the interest of the place they serve for.”
Andrew Marvell, member for Hull, who had enjoyed much experience of men and measures, found fit subject for satire among the corrupt comrades who now surrounded him in parliament.
From his “good discourse on parliament,” Mr. Secretary Pepys, by a happy coincidence, straightway betook himself to that palace, where he had the privilege of being well received, and in which, under the Stuarts, more curious scenes were witnessed than falls to the lot of even the average of princely abodes:—
“Thence to Whitehall, where the Parliament was to wait on the King, and they did: and he did think fit to tell them that they might expect to be adjourned at Whitsuntide, and that they might make haste to raise their money: but this, I fear, will displease them, who did expect to sit as long as they pleased.”
A truly regal reception, and a most unceremonious mode of dismissing the “chosen of the people.” The wits of the day thus tersely summed up the situation of affairs:—
Perhaps the most felicitous sallies were due to the pen of that gifted reprobate, the Earl of Rochester, at times the alter ego of the Merry Monarch, but who finally, after enjoying boundless favour by diverting the king at his own royal expense as often as at that of his subjects, pointed a shaft with too galling a barb, and flitted away from a Court whose vileness he both exposed and shared in equally liberal measure:—
Later, Pepys is in conference with the king and the Duke of York (April, 1668) upon no less a subject than “about the Quakers not swearing, and how they do swear in the business of a late election of a Knight of the Shire of Hertfordshire in behalf of one they have a mind to have,” which diverts the monarch mightily.
We have seen how the juris-consultists who lived contemporaneously with the system of “paid members” considered the impartiality of representatives was protected from outside influences by the receipt of a small independence; later on we find that, owing to a dispute between the two Chambers, the impression was arrived at by the Peers that no salaried judges can be deemed impartial, and that hereditary legislators are the only reliable tribunals whence unimpeachable justice could be secured.
On a question of privilege between the Lords and Commons (May, 1668), when the latter took upon themselves to remedy an error of the Upper Chamber, Lord Anglesey informed the Commons that the Lords were “Judices nati et Conciliarii nati, but all other Judges among us are under salary, and the Commons themselves served for wages; and therefore the Lords, in reason, were the freer Judges.”
The circumstance of receiving a salary does not appear to have compromised the independence of members, but to the contrary, as they were thus enabled to keep their honesty the purer, by resisting the venal attacks of the Court. The integrity of members seems to have suffered when their fees were no longer recognized. The “Pensioner Parliament” came into existence precisely at the epoch when representatives remitted “their wages;” a significant circumstance, but indicative of the times; when selfishness usurped the place of patriotism, members sacrificed the modest retainers designed to keep them honest, that they might be the less fettered to bargain in their own interests.
The proverbial incorruptibility of Andrew Marvell is a case in point. This example of a true patriot is erroneously said to have been the last member who received wages from his constituents. He died in 1678, M.P. for Hull.5 Others, his contemporaries, maintained the right, and suffered their arrears to accumulate, as a cheap resource at the next election. Marvell more than once, in his correspondence, speaks of members threatening to sue their boroughs for pay.6 Lord Braybrooke, in his notes to Pepys’s “Diary,” refers to a case, noticed by Lord Campbell in his “Life of Lord Nottingham,” where the M.P. for Harwich, in 1681, petitioned the Lord Chancellor, as that borough had failed “to pay him his wages.” A writ was issued “De expensis Burgensium levandis.” Lord Campbell adds, “For this point of the People’s Charter [payment of wages] no new law is required.”7
Pepys’s later allusions concern the constantly threatened dissolutions; in November, 1668, he records, “The great discourse now is that the Parliament shall be dissolved and another called, which shall give the King the Dean and Chapter’s lands, and that will put him out of debt,” concluding with a hint that the subtle and “brisk” Duke of Buckingham, at that time the actual ruler of the kingdom, “does knowingly meet daily with Wildman and other Commonwealth-men,” the while deceiving Charles into the belief that his intrigues were of a more tender nature.
At Whitehall, the same month, Pepys acquires some fresh and rather significant information upon the subject of the Commons; it is imparted to him that—
“it was not yet resolved whether the Parliament should ever meet more or no, the three great rulers of things now standing thus:—The Duke of Buckingham8 is absolutely against their meeting, as moved thereto by his people that he advises with, the people of the late times, who do never expect to have anything done by this Parliament for their religion, and who do propose that, by the sale of the Church lands, they shall be able to put the King out of debt: my Lord Keeper is utterly against putting away this and choosing another Parliament, lest they prove worse than this, and will make all the King’s friends, and the King himself, in a desperate condition: my Lord Arlington [being under suspicion, owing to his mismanagement of money in Ireland] knows not which is best for him, being to seek whether this or the next will use him worse. It was told me that he believes that it is intended to call this Parliament, and try them for a sum of money; and, if they do not like it, then to send them going, and call another, who will, at the ruin of the Church perhaps, please the King with what he will have for a time.”
These passages need no comment, the accepted ideas upon representative government under the House of Stuart were such as to fill constitutional minds with amazement. This view is endorsed by a popular ballad of the day:—
The inconsistency of the king’s behaviour, and the triviality of his mind—when applied to matters of business, and especially that of parliament—is happily held up to ridicule by one of his contemporary wits, who has thus parodied the expected speech from the throne:—
”My Lords and Gentlemen,
“I told you at our last meeting the Winter was the fittest time for business; and truly I thought so, till my Lord Treasurer assured me the Spring was the best season for salads and subsidies: I hope, therefore, that April will not prove so unnatural a month as not to afford some kind showers on my parched Exchequer, which gapes for want of them. Some of you perhaps will think it dangerous to make me too rich; but I do not fear it, for I promise you faithfully whatever you give me I will always want; and altho’ in other things my word may be thought a slender authority, yet in that you may rely upon me, I will never break it.
“My Lords and Gentlemen, I can bear my straits with patience; but my Lord Treasurer does protest to me, that the Revenue, as it now stands, will not serve him and me too; one of us must pinch for it if you do not help me. I must speak freely to you, I am under circumstances, for, besides my Harlots on service, my reformado Concubines lie heavy upon me. I have a passable good estate, I confess; but, Gads-fish, I have a great charge upon’t. Here’s my Lord Treasurer can tell, that all the money design’d for the next summer’s guards must of necessity be apply’d to the next year’s cradles and swaddling clothes. What shall we do for ships then? I hint this only to you, it being your business, not mine. I know by experience I can live without ships; I liv’d ten years abroad without, and never had my health better in my life; but how you will be without I leave to yourselves to judge, and therefore hint this only by the by; I don’t insist upon it. There’s another thing I must press more earnestly, and that is this. It seems a good part of my revenue will expire in two or three years, except you will be pleased to continue it. I have to say for’t, Pray why did you give me so much as you have done, unless you resolve to give on as fast as I call for it? The nation hates you already for giving so much, and I will hate you too if you do not give me more; so that if you stick not to me, you must not have a friend in England. On the other hand, if you will give me the revenue I desire, I shall be able to do those things for your Religion and Liberty that I have had long in my thoughts, but cannot effect them without a little more money to carry me through. Therefore look to’t, and take Notice that if you do not make me rich enough to undo you, it shall lie at your doors, for my part I wash my hands on’t. But that I may gain your good opinion the best way is to acquaint you what I have done to deserve it out of my royal care for your religion and your property. For the first, my proclamation is a true picture of my mind: he that cannot, as in a glass, see my zeal for the Church of England, does not deserve any farther satisfaction, for I declare him wilful, abominable, and not good. Some may perhaps be startled, and cry—how comes this sudden change? To which I answer I am a changeling, and that’s sufficient, I think. But to convince men farther that I mean what I say, there are these arguments. First, I tell you so, and you know I never break my word. Secondly, my Lord Treasurer says so, and he never told a lie in his life. Thirdly, my Lord Lauderdale will undertake it for me, and I should be loth by any act of mine he should forfeit the credit he has with you.
“I must now acquaint you, that by my Lord Treasurer’s Advice, I have made a considerable retrenchment upon my expenses in Candles and Charcoal, and do not intend to stop there, but will, with your help, look into the late embezzlements of my dripping-pans and kitchen stuff; of which, by the way, upon my conscience, neither my Lord Treasurer nor my Lord Lauderdale are guilty. I tell you my opinion, but if you should find them dabbling in that business, I tell you plainly I leave ’em to you; for I would have the world know I am not a man to be cheated.
“My Lords and Gentlemen, I desire you to believe me as you have found me; and I do solemnly promise you, that whatsoever you give me shall be specially manag’d with the same conduct, trust, sincerity, and prudence, that I have ever practised since my happy Restoration.”
The commencement of party warfare as now recognized in parliamentary life may be dated from the Stuarts, and to account for the designations of Whig and Tory it is necessary to glance back at the parliamentary troubles of Charles II., 1679-1680, when that monarch, acting under the encouragement of Louis XIV., was inclined to make a misguided attempt to govern without a legislative chamber. In 1679 the monarch refused a Speaker to his Commons, finding that functionary obnoxious; and between this date and 1681 parliament was prorogued seven times: in fact—as a summary of Charles II.’s parliaments discloses—the discords of the previous reign were revived; the “town and country party” petitioned zealously for the reassembling of parliament, while the Court party counter-petitioned “to declare their abhorrence of the late tumultuary petitioning.” Those who were urging on the struggle for popular representation and freedom were designated Petitioners, the king’s “friends” were voted “betrayers of the liberties of the people, and abettors of arbitrary power,” and expressively stigmatized as Abhorrers;9 from these two parties, which were ready to exterminate one another, arose the nicknames of Whigs and Tories, as is explained in Tindal’s “Rapin.”10
The “Abhorrers,” who were the mainstay of Charles’s utterly unconstitutional procedure, although as courtiers they hoped for their reward from the king, did not get much tolerance from the Commons: when the parliament at last reassembled, several members were expelled from the House on this pretence alone, and they consigned to the Tower that Sir Francis Withers who had been knighted for procuring and presenting the loyal address from the city of Westminster; the majority at the same time recording, as a gage of battle to their opponents, the resolution (October, 1680), “That it is the undoubted right of the subject to petition for the calling of a parliament, and that to traduce such petitions as tumultuous and seditious is to contribute to the design of altering the constitution.” The Tories at that time and long after maintained the doctrines of “divine hereditary indefeasible right, lineal succession, passive obedience, prerogative, etc.”
That a determined attitude was felt to be fitting is exhibited in the protests of the House, printed for circulation, like the following:—
“Wednesday, October 27, 1680.
“Two Unanimous votes of this present Honourable and Worthy Parliament concerning the subjects’ rights in Petitioning.
”Resolved, Nemine Contradicente,—
That it is and ever hath been the undoubted Right of the subjects of England to petition the King for calling and sitting of parliaments, and redressing of Grievances.
“Resolved, Nemine Contradicente,—
That to traduce such Petitioning is a violation of duty, and to represent it to his Majesty as Traitorous and seditious, is to betray the Liberty of the Subjects, and contributes to the design of subverting the ancient, legal Constitution of this Kingdom, and the Introducing Arbitrary Power.
”Ordered—That a Committee be appointed to enquire of all those Persons as have offended against these Rights of the subject.
“London: Printed for Francis Smith, Bookseller, at the Elephant and Castle, near the Royal Exchange in Cornhill.”
Francis Smith was the publisher—
“who suffered a Chargeable Imprisonment in the Gaol of Newgate, in December last, for printing and promoting Petitions for the Sitting of this present Parliament.”
He is referred to with acrimony in the ballads by Tantivy and courtier bards, among the “pestiferous crew of republican scribes.”
Charles’s first parliament was, amid the confusion of the time (the revolution subverted and royalty restored), barely constituted; it lasted from April 25, 1660, to December 29th, and, being assembled without the king’s writ, was, with customary royal ingratitude for “past favours,” considered by Charles as the Convention Parliament.11 The long Cavalier Parliament, some portion of which, like the king, was in the pay of Louis XIV., is stigmatized to posterity as the “Pensionary” Parliament; it met May 8, 1661, and lasted until January 24, 1679; the members were doubly corrupt, accepting money-bribes or lucrative offices from the Court, or being, according to Barillon’s clear declarations, in the pay of France and Holland, as regarded the patriotic members, who fiercely denounced the venality of the Court. In 1675 the oath against bribery was opportunely inaugurated, providing against corruption either from the Crown or from any ambassador or foreign minister. The Pensionary Parliament, which began its career by servile loyalty, and was merciless against Republicans, towards its close opposing the unreasonable extension of prerogative became factious and insubordinate, arrogating to itself the control of legal procedure, and, according to the opinions of extreme Royalists, generally proving itself a “scourge.”
The popular view of this venal legislature is given in the following version:—
Another warning note is struck in the following ballad, aimed at the reprobated Pensionary Parliament:—
Charles II.’s third, or Habeas Corpus Parliament, showed a determination to exceed its predecessor in opposing the Court, and seemed ambitious of imitating that of 1640, the reminiscences of which were still of a portentous character, and filled with dread as regarded the survivors of those uncompromising times:—
Charles very naturally found this parliament beyond his control, so it was prorogued May 27, 1679, to the 14th of August, but dissolved on the 10th of July. The whole country was in commotion during August and September in electioneering contests, preparing for the fourth parliament. It is to be regretted that electioneering broadsides have, as a rule, been allowed to perish; they would prove a mine of curious information.
The following is a pertinent allusion to the eventualities of the “poll:”—
The opprobrious terms of Whigs and Tories were freely exchanged. Here is a Whig’s view of the “king’s men:”—
The wit lay rather with the Cavaliers, though it must be confessed their opponents had the best of the argument when reasoning on facts.
The definition of the nickname Tory, as it originally arose, is given in “A New Ballad” (Narcissus Luttrell’s Collection):—
By way of answer, the Tories exulted in their loyalty:—
The Court party denounced—
The designs of the various factions were thus summed up:—
The Tories retaliated upon their antagonists with interest, though they feared the zealots not a little, as the following ballad illustrates:—
One of the most popular “counter-blasts” to the Whig pretensions is embodied in the following parody, which enjoyed considerable favour, though not equal to Andrew Marvell’s diatribes “on the other side:”—
The newly elected parliament, the materials of which were equally unpalatable to the Court party, was summoned to meet in October, 1679, but, prorogued during the royal pleasure, it did not actually meet until October 21, 1680. The interval was marked by the presentation of loyal addresses and petitions for its reassembling. Further prorogued on the 10th of January, it was dissolved on the 18th, to be followed by the “Oxford Parliament” of eight days, which was dissolved on March 28, 1681. The nation saw itself on the verge of civil war, and, remembering what it had suffered—while opposing the encroachments of the Crown and autocratic exactions—from the opposite extremes of anarchy and fanaticism, the people were resigned to temporize, and thus Charles was allowed to rule without a parliament until his death.
The following satire is well-founded, and pertinent to the prevalent state of affairs:—
Being an excellent new Ballad, in which the qualities of each month are considered, whereby it appears that a parliament cannot meet in any of the old months; with a proposal for mending the Calendar. Humbly offered to the packers of the next parliament,”
—which, as it fell out, never reassembled during the reign of the Merry Monarch. The rhymster, after rehearsing the sufficient reasons why every month, from January to December, is unfitted, according to the royal inclinations, for the assembling of a parliament, concludes with a prayer by way of—
The political squibs of this time are chiefly written by Cavaliers, and give a one-sided view, from which, however, much may be gathered. Though not actually election addresses, they refer to the claims which the electors of the kingdom found themselves constrained to address to the throne.
Among the collection of “Bagford Ballads,” so capably edited and illustrated by J. W. Ebsworth, M.A.,12 is a group of parliamentary election ballads, apparently of the date 1679-80, and relating to Essex, Buckinghamshire, Wiltshire, and the Universities. The Titus Oates plot; the Duke of York and his threatened exclusion from the succession; the impeachment by the Commons of a secretary of State, of Lord Danby, lord-treasurer; with the opposing designs of the Papists and the rabid Dissenters; and, above all, the petitions and the counter-petitions, seem the leading topics of these satires: but they do not contain much enlightenment upon elections, pure and simple. “The Essex Ballad,” humorously explains the modus operandi of the “abhorred” petitions.
The grievances of the petitioning constituencies are farcically rehearsed, the king is prayed that he will not “quite forget the Senate,” and the writer goes on to describe the signatories of this “Anti-Popish Bull.” When all hands had been set to the roll, it was found that—
“Ribbons green,” were the badges of the Protestant Association, at the head of which was Shaftesbury, “the popular favourite,” or “Sejanus,” as his enemies designated him. Vide “A Litany from Geneva:”—