CHAPTER II.
PARLIAMENTARY LIFE UNDER THE STUARTS; PAID MEMBERS.
The days of the Long Parliament were fruitful in frank out-of-door expressions of opinion under the rule of Charles I. and the Commonwealth; but, although political feelings were embittered, it does not appear that the franchise was exposed to any undue influence worth recording. A certain amount of governmental favour was reckoned of use in isolated instances; this patronage was considered safe to return nominees for such places as the Cinque Ports. But few election squibs, pure and simple, can be discovered before the Restoration. Ballads are less rare; these for the most part deal with the broader party relations, and are confined within discreet limitations, for “privilege of parliament” was rigorously enforced under Cromwell. On the disappearance of the Commonwealth, the spirits of the Cavalier wits and rhymsters revived, with all the more liveliness for their long-enforced repression. As an animated and characteristic example of the ballads produced at the close of the stern conventicle régime, we include the jeux d’esprit written upon the moribund parliament, when it was no longer formidable,—dissolution having, for the time being, shorn its far-reaching and vengeful claws, while a changed head of the State had rendered its return to a lease of power extremely problematical. It is fair to say that, for the most part, the disappearance of this straight-laced and tyrannical House of Commons was hailed as a national relief: the theory of flying “to ills we know not of” had yet to be realized with the gradual development of the Merry Monarch’s selfish and ruinous system, the most iniquitous ever tolerated.
“A GENERAL SALE OF REBELLIOUS HOUSEHOLD STUFF.
“Rebellion hath broken up House,
And hath left some old Lumber to sell;
Come hither and take your choice—
I’ll promise to use you well.
Will you buy th’ old Speaker’s chair,
Which was warm and easy to sit in,
And oftentimes hath been made clean,
When as it was fouler than fitting?
Will you buy any Bacon-flitches
They’re the fattest that ever were spent;
They’re the sides of th’ old Committees
Fed up with th’ Long Parliament.
Here’s a pair of bellows and tongs,
And for a small matter I’ll sell ’em;
They’re made of the Presbyters’ lungs
To blow up the Coals of Rebellion.
Here’s the besom of Reformation,
Which should have made clean the floor;
But it swept the wealth out of the nation,
And left us dirt good store.
Here’s a roll of States 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.”