MY CANDIDATURE FOR BARNSTAPLE.
Although the House of Commons dislikes lawyers, constituencies love
them. The enterprising patriots of the long robe are everywhere sought
after, provided they possess, with all their other qualifications, the
one thing needful, and possessing which, all others may be dispensed
with.
Barnstaple was no exception to the rule. It had a character for
conspicuous discernment, and, like the unseen eagle in the sky, could
pick out at any distance the object of its desire.
Eminent, respectable, and rich must be the qualification of any
candidate who sought its suffrages--the last, at all events, being
indispensable.
Up to this time I had not felt those patriotic yearnings which are
manifested so early in the legal heart. I was never a political
adventurer; I had no eye on Parliament merely as a stepping-stone to a
judgeship; and probably, but for the events I am about to describe, I
should never have been heard of as a politician at all. There were so
many candidates in the profession to whom time was no object that I
left this political hunting-ground entirely to them.
In 1865 I was waited upon at Westminster by a very influential
deputation from the Barnstaple electors--honest-looking electors as
any candidate could wish to see--bringing with them a requisition
signed by almost innumerable independent electors, and stating that
there were a great many more of the same respectable class who would
have signed had time been permitted. Further signatures were, however,
to be forwarded. It was urged by the deputation that I should make my
appearance at Barnstaple at the earliest possible date, as no time was
to be lost, and they were most anxious to hear my views, especially
upon topics that they knew more about than I, which is generally the
case, I am told, in most constituencies. I asked when they thought I
ought to put in an appearance.
"Within a week at latest," said the leading spirit of the deputation.
"Within a week at latest," repeated all the deputation in chorus."
Because," said the leading personage, "there is already a gentleman of
the name of Cave" (it should have been pronounced as two syllables, so
as to afford me some sort of warning of the danger I was confronting)
"busily canvassing in all directions for the Liberal party, and
Mr. Howell Gwynne and Sir George Stukely will be the Conservative
candidates. However, it would be a certain seat if I would do them the
honour of coming forward. There would be little trouble, and it would
almost be a walk-over."
A walk-over was very nice, and the tantalizing hopes this deputation
inspired me with overcame my great reluctance to enter the field of
politics; and in that ill-advised moment I promised to allow myself to
be nominated.
It was arranged that I should make my appearance by a specified
afternoon train on a particular day in the week (apparently to be set
apart as a public holiday), so that I had little time for preparation.
By the next day's post I received a kind of official communication
from "our committee," stating that a very substantial deputation from
the general body would have the honour to meet me at the station, and
accompany me to the committee-rooms for the purpose of introduction.
Down, therefore, I went by the Great Western line, and in due time
arrived at my destination, as I thought.
I found, instead of the "influential body of gentlemen" who were to
have the honour of conducting me to the headquarters of the Liberal
party, there was only a small portion of it, almost too insignificant
to admit of counting. But he was an important personage in uniform,
and dressed somewhat like a commissionaire.
After much salutation and deferential hemming and stammering, he said
I had better proceed to a _little station only a few miles farther
on and dine_, "and if so be I'd do that, they would meet me in the
evening."
Not being a professional politician, nor greatly ambitious of its
honours, I was somewhat disconcerted at such extraordinary conduct on
the part of my committee, and would have returned to town, but that
the train was going the wrong way, and by the time I reached the
little station I had argued the matter out, as I thought. It _might_
be a measure of precaution, in a constituency so respectable as
Barnstaple, to prevent the least suspicion of _treating_ or corrupt
influence. Had I dined at Barnstaple it might have been suggested
that some one dined with me or drank my health. Whatever it was, the
revelation was not yet.
I was to return "as soon as I had dined." Everything was to be ready
for my reception.
All these instructions I obeyed with the greatest loyalty, and
returned at an early hour in the evening. But if I was disappointed at
my first reception, how was I elated by the second! All was made up
for by good feeling and enthusiasm. We were evidently all brothers
fighting for the sacred cause, but what the cause was I had not been
informed up to this time.
At the station was a local band of music waiting to receive me, and
to strike up the inspiring air, "See the conquering hero comes;" but,
unfortunately, the band consisted only of a drum, of such dimensions
that I thought it must have been built for the occasion, and a
clarionet.
Before the band struck up, however, I was greeted with such
enthusiastic outbursts that they might have brought tears into the
eyes of any one less firm than myself. "Orkins for ever!" roared
the multitude. It almost stunned me. Never could I have dreamt my
popularity would be so great. "Orkins for ever!" again and again
they repeated, each volley, if possible, louder than before. "Bravo,
Orkins! Let 'em 'ave it, Orkins! don't spare 'em." I wish I had known
what this meant.
I must say they did all that mortals could do with their mouths to
honour their future member.
Hogarth's "March to Finchley" was outdone by that march to the
Barnstaple town hall. An enormous body of electors, "free and
independent" stamped on their faces as well as their hands, was
gathered there, and it was a long time before we could get anywhere
near the door.
Again and again the air was rent with the cries for "Orkins," and it
was perfectly useless for the police to attempt to clear the way.
They had me as if on show, and it was only by the most wonderful
perseverance and good luck that I found myself going head first along
the corridor leading to the hall itself.
When I appeared on the platform, it seemed as if Barnstaple had never
seen such a man; they were mad with joy, and all wanted to shake hands
with me at once. I dodged a good many, and by dint of waving his arms
like a semaphore the chairman succeeded, not in restoring peace, but
in moderating the noise.
I now had an opportunity of using my eyes, and there before me in one
of the front seats was the redoubtable Cave--the great canvassing
Cave--who instantly rose and gave me the most cordial welcome, trusted
I was to be his future colleague in the House, and was most generous
in his expressions of admiration for the people of Barnstaple,
especially the voting portion of them, and hoped I should have a very
pleasant time and never forget dear old Barnstaple. I said I was not
likely to--nor am I.
Of course I had to address the assembled electors first after the
introduction by the chairman, who, taking a long time to inform us
what the electors _wanted_, I made up my mind what to say in order to
convince them that they should have it. I gave them hopes of a great
deal of legal reform and reduction of punishments, for I thought
that would suit most of them best, and then gladly assented to a
satisfactory adjustment of all local requirements and improvements, as
well as a determined redress of grievances which should on no account
be longer delayed. ("Orkins for ever!")
Then Cave stood up--an imposing man, with a good deal of presence and
shirt-collar--who invited any man--indeed, _challenged_ anybody--in
that hall to question him on any subject whatever.
The challenge was accepted, and up stood one of the rank and file of
the electors--no doubt sent by the Howell Gwynne party--and with a
voice that showed at least he meant to be heard, said,--
"Mr. Cave, first and foremost of all, I should like to know _how your
missus is to-day_?"
It was scarcely a political or public question, but nobody objected,
and everybody roared with laughter, because it seemed at all political
meetings Cave had started the fashion, which has been adopted by many
candidates since that time, of referring _to his wife_! Cave always
began by saying he could never go through this ordeal without the help
and sympathy of his dear wife--his support and joy--at whose bidding
and in pursuit of whose dreams he had come forward to win a seat in
their uncorruptible borough, and to represent them--the most coveted
honour of his life--in the House of Commons.
Of course this oratory, having a religious flavour, took with a very
large body of the Barnstaple electors, and was always received with
cheers as an encouragement to domestic felicity and faithfulness to
connubial ties.
When this gentleman put the question, Cave answered as though it was
asked in real earnest, and was cheered to the echo, not merely for his
domestic felicity, but his cool contempt for any man who could so far
forget connubial bliss as to sneer at it.
For a few days all went tolerably well, and then I was told that a
very different kind of influence prevailed in the borough than that
of religion or political morality, and that it would be perfectly
hopeless to expect to win the seat unless I was prepared to purchase
the large majority of electors; indeed, that I must buy almost every
voter. (That's what they meant by "Give it 'em, Orkins! Let 'em 'ave
it!")
This I refused to believe; but it was said they were such free and
independent electors that they would vote for _either_ party, and you
could not be sure of them until the last moment; in fact, _if I would
win I must bribe_! to say nothing of all sorts of subscriptions to
cricket clubs and blanket clubs, as well as friendly societies of all
kinds.
I declined to accept these warnings, and looked upon it as some kind
of political dodge got up by the other side.
I resolved to win by playing the game, and made up my mind to go to
the poll on the political questions which were agitating the public
mind, as I was informed, by a simple honest candidature, thinking that
in political as in every other warfare honesty is the best policy. On
that noble maxim I entered into the contest, believing in Barnstaple,
and feeling confident I should represent it in Parliament.
To indulge in bribery of any sort would, I knew, be fatal to my own
interests even if I had not been actuated by any higher motive. I
placed myself, therefore, in the hands of my friend and principal
agent, Mr. Kingston, as well as the other agents of the party.
We did not long, however, remain true to ourselves. There was a hitch
somewhere which soon developed into a split; and it was certain some
of us must go to the wall. I could not, however, understand the reason
of it; we professed the same politics, the same "cause," the same
battle-cry, the same enemies. But, whatever it was, we were so much
divided that my chances of heading the poll were diminishing.
I had been cheered to the echo night after night and all day long, so
that there was enough shouting to make a Prime Minister; my horses had
time after time been taken from my carriage, and cheering voters drew
me along. These unmistakable signs of popular devotion to my interests
had been most encouraging; and as they shouted themselves hoarse for
me, I talked myself hoarse for them. We had a mutual hoarseness for
each other. Everything looked like success; everything _sounded_ like
success; and night after night out came drum and clarionet to do their
duty manfully in drumming me to my hotel.
It had been a remarkable success; everybody said so. Most of them
declared solemnly they had never seen anything like it. They
pronounced it a record popularity. I thought it was because the good
people had selected me as their candidate on independent and purity of
election principles. This explanation gave them great joy, and they
cheered with extra enthusiasm for their own virtue. Judge, then,
my surprise a short while after, when, notwithstanding the firm
principles upon which we had proceeded, and by which my popularity
was secured, I began to perceive that _money was the only thing they
wanted_! Their uncorruptible nature yielded, alas! to the lowering
influence of that deity.
It was at first a little mysterious why they should have postponed
their demands--secret and silent--until almost the last moment; but
the fact is, a large section of my party were dissatisfied with the
voluntary nature of their services; they declined to work for nothing,
and having shown me that the prize--that is, the seat--was mine, they
determined to let me know it must be paid for. A large number of
my voters would do nothing; they kept their hands in their pockets
because they could not get them into mine.
This was no longer a secret, but on the eve of the election was boldly
put forward as a demand, and I was plainly told that £500 distributed
in small sums would make my election sure.
As, however, in no circumstances would I stoop to their offer, this
demand did not in the least influence me--I never wavered in my
resolution, and refused to give a farthing. Furthermore, showing the
web in which they sought to entangle me, the same voice that suggested
the £500 also informed me that I was closely watched by a couple of
detectives set on by the other side.
I was well aware that the "other side" had given five-pound notes for
votes, but I could neither follow the example nor use the information,
as it was told me "in the strictest confidence."
I was therefore powerless, and felt we were drifting asunder more
and more. At last came the polling day, and a happy relief from an
unpleasant situation it certainly was.
A fine bright morning ushered in an exciting day. There was a great
inrush of voters at the polling-booth, friendly votes, if I may call
them so--votes, I mean to say, of honest supporters; these were my
acquaintances made during my sojourn at Barnstaple; others came, a few
for Cave as well as myself. Cave did not seem to enjoy the popularity
that I had achieved. Still, he got a few votes.
Now came an exciting scene. About midday, the working man's dinner
hour, the tide began to turn, for the whole body of _bribed_ voters
were released from work. My majority quickly dwindled, and at length
disappeared, until I was in a very hopeless minority. Everywhere it
was "Stukely for ever!" Some cried, "Stukely and free beer!" Stukely,
who till now had hardly been anybody, and had not talked himself
hoarse in their interests as I had, was the great object of their
admiration and their hopes.
The consequence of this sudden development of Stukely's popularity
was that Cave united his destiny with the new favourite, and such an
involution of parties took place that "Stukely and Cave" joined hand
in hand and heart to heart, while poor Howell Gwynne and myself were
abandoned as useless candidates. At one o'clock it was clear that I
must be defeated by a large majority.
The Cave party then approached me with the modest request that, as it
was quite clear that I could not be returned, would I mind attending
the polling places and give my support to Cave?
This piece of unparalleled impudence I declined to accede to, and
did nothing. The election was over so far as I was interested in its
result; but I was determined to have a parting word with the electors
before leaving the town. I was mortified at the unblushing treachery
and deception of my supporters.
I was next asked what I proposed to do. It was their object to get
me out of the town as soon as possible, for if unsuccessful as a
candidate, I might be troublesome in other ways. Such people are not
without a sense of fear, if they have no feeling of shame.
I said I should do nothing but take a stroll by the river, the day
being fine, and come back when the poll was declared and make them a
little speech.
The little speech was exactly what they did not want, so in the
most friendly manner they informed me that a fast train would leave
Barnstaple at a certain time, and that probably I would like to catch
that, as no doubt I wished to be in town as early as possible to
attend to my numerous engagements. If they had chartered the train
themselves they could not have shown greater consideration for my
interests. But I informed them that I should stop and address the
electors, and with this statement they turned sulkily away.
At the appointed hour for the declaration of the poll I was on the
hustings--well up there, although the lowest on the poll. Stukely and
Cave were first and second, Howell Gwynne and myself third and _last_!
When my turn came to address the multitude, I spoke in no measured
terms as to the conduct of the election, which I denounced as having
been won by the most scandalous bribery and corruption.
All who were present as unbiassed spectators were sorry, and many of
them expressed a wish that I would return on a future day.
"Not," said I, "until the place has been purged of the foul corruption
with which it is tainted."
I had resolved to leave by the mail train, and was actually
accompanied to the station by a crowd of some 2,000 people, including
the Rector, or Vicar of the parish, who gave me godspeed on my journey
home.
This kind and sincere expression of goodwill and sympathy was worth
all the boisterous cheers with which I had been received.
On the platform at the railway station I had to make another little
speech, and then I took my seat, not for Barnstaple, but London. As
the train drew out of the station, the people clung to the carriage
like bees, and although I had not even honeyed words to give them,
they gave me a "send-off" with vociferous cheers and the most cordial
good wishes.
Thus I bade good-bye to Barnstaple, never to return or be returned,
and I can only say of that enlightened and independent constituency
that, while seeking the interests of their country, they never
neglected their own.
I need not add that I learnt a great deal in that election which
was of the greatest importance in the conduct of the Parliamentary
petitions which were showered upon me.
Before I accepted the candidature of Barnstaple, a friend of mine said
he had been making inquiries as to how the little borough of Totnes
could be won, and that the lowest figure required as an instalment to
commence with was £7,000.
After this I had no more to do with electioneering in the sense of
being a candidate, but a good deal to do with it in every other.