A History of Parliamentary Elections and Electioneering in the Old Days. Joseph Grego
tobacco
If any good fellow will take it;
It’s neither Virginia nor Spanish, But I’ll tell you how they do make it; ’Tis Covenant mixt with Engagement, With an Abjuration Oath; And many of them that did take it, Complain it is foul in th’ mouth. A Lantern here is to be bought, The like was scarce ever begotten, For many a plot ’t has found out, Before they ever were thought on. Will you buy the Rump’s great saddle Which once did carry the nation? And here’s the Bit and the Bridle, And Curb of Dissimulation. Here’s the Breeches of the Rump With a fair dissembling cloak, And a Presbyterian Jump With an Independent Smock. Here’s Oliver’s Brewing vessels, And here’s his Dray and slings; Here’s Hewson’s awl and his bristles, With divers other odd things. And what doth the price belong To all these matters before ye? I’ll sell them all for an old song, And so I do end my story.”
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.
“C. That traitors to th’ Country in a brib’d House of Commons Should give away millions at every summons.
W. Yet some of those givers such beggarly villains As not to be trusted for twice twenty shillings.
C. No wonder that beggars should still be for giving, Who, out of what’s given, do get a good living.
W. Four Knights and a knave, who were burgesses made, For selling their consciences were liberally paid.
C. How base are the souls of such low-priced sinners, Who vote with the country for Drink and for Dinners.
W. ’Tis they that brought on us this scandalous yoke, Of excising our cups, and taxing our smoke.
C. But thanks to the Harlots who made the King dogg’d, For giving no more the Rogues are prorogued.”
(Andrew Marvell, 1674: A Dialogue between Two Horses.)
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:—
“I’ll have a long parliament always to friend,
And furnish my treasure as fast as I spend,
And if they will not, they shall have an end.”
(A. Marvell: Royal Resolutions.)
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:—
“A parliament of knaves and sots,
Members by name you must not mention,
He keeps in pay, and buys their votes;
Here with a place, there with a pension.
When to give money he can’t cologue ’um,
He doth with scorn prorogue, prorogue ’um.
But they long since, by too much giving,
Undid, betray’d, and sold the nation;
Making their memberships a living
Better than e’er was sequestration.
God give thee, Charles, a resolution
To damn the knaves by Dissolution.”
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