The bard describes the “City Godmother,” an obsolete mistress, whose traditions were with the Tories of the past:—
In vain does the antique beldame recall the “bad old times” of fanaticism and oppression (when in a former reign the civic charters were taken away perforce), and exhort the sympathies of the crowd to turn from Whiggism and embrace the abuses of the Stuarts:—
Next comes the hustings:—
The author first introduces the candidates who were obnoxious to him, and he certainly roasts them royally, and serves with a right pungent sauce. Priso, the first candidate to appear before the freeholders, had degraded himself as a tool of the late Court, and when in possession of the chair had basely surrendered the liberties of the city corporation.
Candidate number two, Child, was, it is hinted, in the interests of the “prince over the water,” whom he was hopeful of converting from popery.
The sentiments put into the mouths of the candidates contain enlightenment upon city matters, as well as upon prominent citizens, both under the reign of William III. and his predecessors from the Restoration. Another candidate is thinly disguised under the nickname of “the Czar.” He is made to thus candidly address the “medley voting crowd:”—
The poetaster has nothing but good repute to shower on the late representatives of the city of London; he bids his Muse—
Another favourite and patriotic candidate is “Asto,” who—
The other candidates—“friends to their country all,” according to the bard—are christened “Witho,” “Hethban,” and “Pastor.”
With the death of William III. the Tory prospects revived, and their attacks became bolder. In alluding to the accident which caused the king’s end, the party lyrists showed no compassion for “a fallen foe.”
One of the ballads in the Bagford collection applies to the elections which took place in Queen Anne’s reign (the first parliament dissolved April 5, 1705); this High Tantivy effusion of the Tory Alma-Mater is rather long-winded, and we must be content with a brief extract:—
One of the forty-nine verses of which “The University Ballad” consists contains an allusion to an important collision between the two Chambers upon disputed elections, which came about in Queen Anne’s reign:—
The names first given refer to the disputants, while Sir H—— in all probability is one of the University’s parliamentary representatives, Sir Heneage Finch, son of Finch, Lord Keeper and Chancellor. He was returned in 1678, 1688, 1695, and also in 1701 and 1702. The important dispute in question, which is not without interest, as it bears a special reference to election practices which were at one time prevalent, arose between the Lords and Commons on the occasion of the Aylesbury returns, and the case came before parliament in 1703-4. It seems to have been the tactics of those persons whose party held a majority in the House, to decide all disputed elections so as to strengthen their own side. “The majority,” meaning the government, legislated thus partially, conveniently ignoring the energetic protests against such flagrant injustice—the condonation of direct bribery and downright perjury, according to the allegations of the minority; who, it is said, when the turn of the wheel came which raised them to power, invariably endorsed the policy of their predecessors by repeating the same evil practices. The investigation brought to light the illegitimate nature of election returns, proving that it had long been the habit of constables and similar officials to secure for such candidates as would pay them sufficiently, their return for parliament by obtaining a majority of votes for the person who purchased their connivance: thus, after the seat was, in advance, put up to the highest bidder, pains were taken to ascertain in whose favour each vote was likely to be given; those burgesses who were not to be cajoled or bribed into voting for the candidate adopted by the constables were prevented from voting otherwise, under various pretexts by which they were disabled or disfranchised,—an oppression which reduced representative government to a mere pretence. Yet, although these glaring illegalities were patent, they had offered such temptations as to have been condoned successively by either party in power.
At length the evils of this system were forced upon the attention of the legislature, as certain burgesses of Aylesbury (Bucks) resisted the authority of the venal officers which had prevailed unchallenged hitherto, and at length brought a criminal action against William White and other constables of the borough. One Matthew Ashby had been permitted to vote at previous elections, but on the recent occasion was denied the privilege, as his vote happened to be in favour of the candidate who had not secured the official interest. The trial came on, and proved a complicated affair. The constables lost the day at the assizes, being cast in damages. Brought before the Queen’s Bench, a majority of two judges supported the constables, although the third, Chief Justice Holt, was opposed to them. The House of Lords reversed this judgment, confirming the award of the assizes. The Commons grew indignant with the Peers at threatened encroachments, and voted that Ashby, in prosecuting his action, had committed “a breach of privilege”—that delicate offence so swiftly and severely visited with condemnation. Lastly, the Lords fulminated their censures on the Commons for crying injustice; at their order the Lord Keeper sent “a copy of the case and of their resolutions to all the Sheriffs of England, to be communicated to all the Boroughs in their counties,” enlightening all concerned upon prevailing malpractices, and serving as a caution for the future—a proceeding highly provoking to the Commons, who were powerless to hinder it. They turned their indignant wrath upon the five burgesses of Aylesbury, who followed suit to Ashby, against White: when their actions were brought against the borough constables, as returning officers, for the refusal of their votes, “the House of Commons, on plea of breach of privilege, committed the five to Newgate, where they lay imprisoned three months.” By a curious turn of the tables, when their trial came on at the Queen’s Bench, Chief Justice Holt declared they ought to be discharged, but, being remanded, the prisoners were removed into the custody of the serjeant-at-arms, and the Commons were covered with disgrace by the after-proceedings. The dilemma was obviated by the queen interfering with a prorogation, followed by a dissolution on the 5th of April, 1705, which thus concluded the last session of Queen Anne’s first parliament.
The “loyal Tackers,” who fought so hard to get their own way under the easy sovereignty of their “gracious Anna,” were occasionally treated to hard rubs by their opponents, the stedfast Whigs, whose prospects again brightened at the close of Anne’s reign.
In 1695, the legislature passed a severe act against bribery and treating, the first of a series of similar preventative measures which have been found requisite from time to time down to our own day.
That this act was needed is proved by the records of the immense sums expended in corrupting the suffrage. Addison’s patron, Thomas, Marquis of Wharton, is calculated to have spent eighty thousand pounds of his own fortune in electioneering. This spirited nobleman, who was one of the most energetic Whigs, and largely instrumental in bringing over the Prince of Orange, has been regarded as the greatest adept at electioneering which England ever saw, and, says Hannay, “may pass as the patriarch of the art in this country.” It is certain that his abilities were admirably adapted to the purpose of exercising this control. It was his policy “to forward the designs of an oligarch by the attraction of a demagogue,” a branch of higher art, which has had imitators in this age. He managed to return from twenty to thirty members, at an expenditure of thousands, backed by a happy persuasive knack of carrying all before him. Nor did he stop at an occasional duel by the way. In the general election of 1705 alone, he spent twelve thousand pounds. But cash, pluck, enterprise, and activity would have been less conspicuous had they not been supplemented by what has been called a “born genius for canvassing,” as is proved from the “Memoirs” which appeared shortly after his death in 1715. Wharton’s biographer introduces the subject of an electoral contest for the borough of Wicombe, at the beginning of Anne’s reign. His Whig lordship having recommended two candidates of his own choice, the staunch Church party, in a flutter of indignation, put up two High Tory candidates, and money was freely spent on both sides. A friend of one of the High Church candidates being desirous of witnessing the progress made by this canvasser, was invited down to Wicombe to watch the proceedings, and it was he who imparted the details to the compiler of the “Memoirs.”36 The “Tantivy” party arrived to find my Lord Wharton before them, accompanied by his two protégées, going up and down the town securing votes for the Whig interest. The Tory candidates and a very few followers marched on one side of the street, Lord Wharton’s candidates and a great company on the other.
“The gentleman, not being known to my lord or the townsmen, join’d with his lordship’s men to make discoveries, and was by when my lord, entering a shoemaker’s shop, asked ‘where Dick was.’ The good woman said ‘her husband was gone two or three miles off with some shoes, but his lordship need not fear him—she would keep him tight.’ ‘I know that,’ says my lord, ‘but I want to see Dick and drink a glass with him.’ The wife was very sorry Dick was out of the way. ‘Well,’ says his lordship, ‘how does all thy children? Molly is a brave girl I warrant by this time.’ ‘Yes, I thank ye, my lord,’ says the woman: and his lordship continued—‘Is not Jemmy breeched yet?”
This conversation convinced the witness that his friend’s chances were hopeless in opposing a great Peer who could display such an intimate knowledge of the electors and their families. To the said marquis does Dr. Percy attribute the famous Irish ballad of “Lillibulero,” which is said to have had effects more powerful than the philippics of Demosthenes or the orations of Cicero, and certainly contributed not a little towards the revolution in 1688.
In the days of Queen Anne, the arrival of a popular candidate of the High Tory type was welcomed in a stately manner by the supporters of the “Church” cause, as appears from “Dyer’s Letters.”
“May 5th.—From Exon, we have an account of the honourable reception there of John Snell, Esq., one of the representatives in the late parliament, an honest, loyal, and brave Tacker, who arrived from London on the 1st inst., having been met some miles out of town by above 500 horse and some 1000 foot, composed of the neighbouring gentry, with the clergy, aldermen, and principal citizens; who conducted him to his own house with the city music playing before him, the streets echoing with these acclamations—‘God bless the loyal Tackers, and send the Sneakers more honesty and courage.’”
According to the Tories, all who were opposed to the “Tackers” of their order must be stigmatized to the public as “Sneakers.”
The Whigs were equally unscrupulous in the audacity of their assertions; the fatally damaging effect of a startling calumny, no matter how improbable, so that it be bold enough, exploded on an opponent by way of surprise—a resource much relied upon when matters looked desperate at these times of unsparing warfare—is illustrated in the next extract:—
“May 15th.—The Lord Woodstock, son of the Earl of Portland, has carried it at Southampton against Fred Tilney, Esq., a loyal and worthy gentleman, which was done by this trick:—that gentleman happening to pay his reckoning in that town with about 70 Loudores, which he had received there, the Whig party immediately gave out he was a French pensioner, which calumny answered their purpose.”
“May 29th.—Since my last, we have had an account of several elections, which I leave to the Gazette to enumerate: only the management of some of them is worth notice, particularly for the county of Worcester, where Sir John Packington and Mr. Bromley carried it gloriously against Mr. Walsh, who was set up by the Dissenters. Sir John Packington had a banner carried before him, whereon was painted a church falling, with this inscription—‘For the Queen and Church, Packington.’ It was observable, that while they were marching through the Foregate-Street, they met the Bishop’s coach, in which was a Non-Con. teacher, going to poll for Capt. Walsh, but the horses (at the sight of the church, as ’twas believed) turned tail, overturned and broke the same, and very much bruised the Holder-Forth’s outward man; and this raised no small admiration that the Bishop’s horses should be afraid of a church.”
The commotion which in the days of Queen Anne was manifested in the public thoroughfares at an electioneering epoch is incidentally pictured by Dean Swift, in his “Journal to Stella:”—
“Oct. 5, 1710.—This morning Delaval came to see me, and went to Kneller’s, who was in town. On the way we met the electors for parliament-men, and the rabble came about our coach, crying, ‘A Colt! A Stanhope! etc.’ We were afraid of a dead cat, or our glasses broken, and so were always of their side.”
Among the lost illustrations of the humours of elections is the ballad, “full of puns,” which Swift mentions having produced on that said Westminster election; for any trace of which we have vainly searched among the political pamphlets and poetical broadsides of the Queen Anne era.
It is Swift who relates the untoward catastrophe which awaited his friend, Richard Steele, the improvident “Tatler,” who, having a design to serve in the last parliament of Queen Anne, resigned his place of Commissioner of the Stamp Office in June, 1713, and was chosen for the borough of Stockbridge, in Hampshire, one of the snug constituencies swept away by the Reform Bill a century or so later. The Dean writes of Dick’s adventures on this errand:—
“There was nothing there to perplex him but the payment of a £300 bond, which lessened the sum he carried down, and which an odd dog of a creditor had intimation of and took this opportunity to recover.”
Steele’s parliamentary career was brief. He had not been long in the House before he contrived to get expelled, and gave deadly offence to the queen, by writing “The Englishman” and “The Crisis” against the Jacobite Tories. With the advent of his “Protestant hero,” George I., Steele secured patronage, knighthood, and a seat in the first parliament, where he sat for the since-notorious Boroughbridge, Yorkshire.
A deeply designed stroke of electioneering policy is credited to Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough, who excelled in the subtle tactics invaluable in these emergencies, which raised her to the level of Wharton in election fame, while promoting the success of her nominees. Lord Grimston happened to oppose her grace’s candidates. Now, Lord Grimston, as is related by Johnson, had written a heavy play, “Love in a Hollow Tree,” having become ashamed of which bantling, he did his best to suppress it:—
“But the Duchess of Marlborough had kept one, and when he was against her at an election, she had a new edition of it printed, and prefixed to it, as a frontispiece, an elephant dancing on a rope; to show that his Lordship’s writing comedy was as awkward as an elephant dancing on a rope.”37
It was so much a matter of course that everything in a man’s life should tell against him, if he had the temerity to stand for parliament, that Johnson, when interrogated by Boswell, “whether a certain act of folly would injure a friend of theirs for life?” replied, “It may perhaps, sir, be mentioned at an election,”—the duchess’s feat probably presenting itself to Johnson’s mind at the time.
Hannay, in his sparkling essay on “Electioneering,” also relates the following:—“Mamma,” said a young candidate to his parent in deep confidence, one nomination day, “tell me truly, is there anything against my birth?”—an ingenious precaution in view of eventualities which the youth not imprudently employed to prepare himself for the worst, and that he might not he taken by surprise at the hustings.
The Tories were forced, after their failure to proclaim the Pretender as successor to Queen Anne, to subscribe their loyalty on the accession of George I. This they did with a reservation, as hinted by their opponents, who now held the good things of the administration:—
It was not without reasonable suspicions of the Jacobite party that the ministers of George I. deemed it prudent to keep the Commons they had, rather than face a fresh election, since a general mistrust was abroad. From an effusion upon the bell-ringing in 1716, on the anniversary of Queen Anne’s coronation, it appears this tribute of respect to the memory of the late sovereign was regarded as a Tory manifesto:—
According to the lyrist, the papists were tired of praying for Walpole’s abrupt end; but the conclusion exhibits the feeling then prevailing—and which was justified by after-events,—that the prolonged sessions of parliament under the new Septennial Act offered some defence against the schemes of their opponents; in fact, the tables were turned, and the Whigs of this parliament dreaded the machinations of the Tories, much as the Abhorrers and courtiers detested and feared the Whigs under Charles II.
The Pretender, whose cause looked hopeful at the time of his “dear sister’s” decease, was treated by the Whig satirists with all the ridicule their pens could command:—
Whatever prospects the Pretender and his good friends the Tories might have cherished on the accession of George I., were abruptly put to flight after the abortive rising in 1715; this ill-advised attempt, and the consequences of its utter failure, are wittily set forth in the ballad:—
A fair representation of a chairing scene is given as the second of a series of eight plates which, under the title of “Robin’s Progress,” satirically delineates the career of Sir Robert Walpole. The newly elected member is seated, tranquilly enough, in a capacious arm-chair, raised aloft by his supporters; there are a few “bludgeon-men” among his followers. Hats are thrown into the air, and a general sense of satisfaction is shown to prevail. One of the party, evidently a person of influence, is made to exclaim, “No bribery, no corruption!” A group of more distrustful persons is pictured in the foreground; an elector observes, “I wish we mayn’t be deceived,” while his confederate is declaring, “I smell a rat!” Whatever “undue influence” might have been hinted on this occasion, Walpole had not at that early date (1701) developed the arts of corruption and electioneering, then synonymous; his proficiency in these branches was of later growth. Although not strictly a contemporaneous picture of the event, the engraving which represents the chairing of Sir Robert Walpole on his election for Castle Rising, Norfolk, in 1701, is the earliest of our election illustrations as regards the date of the incident depicted. Walpole, in succession to his father, sat for Castle Rising, in the last two short parliaments which preceded the death of William III., and at once distinguished himself as an active and able ally of the Whig party, then holding the power of administration. In 1702, he was chosen member for King’s Lynn, and represented that borough in several successive parliaments. After, with the interest of George, Prince of Denmark, filling the posts of secretary at war, 1708, and treasurer of the navy, 1709, the Tory advisers of the latter part of Queen Anne’s reign dismissed Walpole from all his posts. The Commons in 1711 voting him guilty of a high breach of trust and notorious corruption in his office as secretary at war, it was resolved to expel him from the House, and that he should be committed to the Tower. Under this vindictive persecution, he was, by his party, regarded as a martyr to the cause, nor does there appear sufficient proof to justify this severity. Encouraged by Walpole’s energetic tactics, his constituents remained firm, and he was re-elected by the burgesses of Lynn in 1713-14, and, though the House declared the return void, yet the electors persisted in their choice, and Walpole took a decided part against the queen’s Tory ministry, until “the turn of the wheel,” which raised the Elector of Hanover on the English throne as Queen Anne’s successor, threw back the power of administration into the hands of Walpole and the Whigs, and once more reduced the Tories to vent their mortification in unscrupulous attacks and misrepresentations, while they were themselves exerting all their abilities for the subversion of the House of Hanover and the restoration of the exiled Stuarts. The bitterness of party warfare was mostly manifested at election times. A burlesque “Bill of Costs” was printed in the Flying Post (Jan. 27, 1715), “for a late Tory election in the West,” in which part of the country the Tory interest was strongest:—