The great Chatham and his friend, William Beckford, stand out conspicuous from their fellow-men in association with that corrupt time when statescraft was for the most part a question of ability for debasing the largest number on the easiest terms contrivable; they lived at a time when liberty ran especial risks, and, as champions of popular rights, proved worthy of those emergencies with which they were confronted. In days when the chief magistrate of the city may degenerate to a subservient courtier, the history of Beckford’s firm attitude may be regarded as no longer the worthiest part of the civic traditions. That his fellow-citizens appreciated his exertions is shown by the thanks he received for his able and dignified speech to the king; his reply was ordered to be inserted in the city records, and afterwards, at his death, was inscribed on the monument erected in the Guildhall to his memory.
The blow struck at a corrupt administration by the Westminster and other remonstrances seems to have damped the ardour of the ministers; in any case, no Court candidate was put forward for Westminster in 1770, and consequently the election of a liberal candidate was unopposed.
On the 30th of April, at noon, came on at St. Paul’s, Covent Garden, the election of a representative in parliament for the City and Liberty of Westminster, in the room of the Hon. Edwin Sandys, created Lord Sandys. A considerable number of the electors assembled early in the morning at the “Standard Tavern” in Leicester Fields; and proceeded from thence with a band of music, etc., in procession through Piccadilly to the residence of Sir Robert Bernard, in Hamilton Street. When they came to Covent Garden, the whole square was full. Proclamation of silence being made, Sir John Hussey Delaval, Bart., addressing himself to the people, said—
“he rejoiced to see such a prodigious number of the Electors present, to support the nomination in Westminster Hall the previous Thursday; that Sir Robert Bernard had stood forward in support of the rights of the people in their just complaints against the late flagrant violation of their liberties; and concluded with observing, that they were come to confirm with their votes this their free and glorious choice.”
Lord Viscount Mountmorres seconded the motion in a spirited speech, in which he stated—
“the services and principles of Sir Robert Bernard; the grievances under which the people laboured; the great violation of their rights in the case of Middlesex; the impossibility that any king, that any parliament, that the courts of justice, or that all together, could annihilate the people’s constitutional rights.”
These speeches were received with acclamation by the twenty thousand people present, amongst whom strict good order was preserved.
The proper proclamations being made, and no other candidate appearing, the return was signed by the gentlemen present on the hustings. The election being entirely over, the gentlemen retired into the vestry-room, where the indenture was signed by them, and finally returned to the Crown Office. On the day following, Sir Robert Bernard was introduced into the House of Commons by the Hon. Henry Grenville and William Pulteney, and took his seat as member for Westminster. The Westminster returns being generally looked upon with interest by other constituencies, this election was held out as a proper example to every city in the kingdom, and to all the counties and towns, to choose their members with a spirit of freedom and without expense. It was resolved by the freeholders of Westminster, in advance—
“that if this election had been contested, it would not have cost Sir Robert Bernard a shilling, the electors being determined to support their free choice.”
This particular return is a case in point, which goes to prove that the authors of corruption in electioneering matters were more guilty than those they corrupted. At the Covent Garden hustings—where, on previous occasions, the ministers had spent enormous sums, besides moving every power and art of intrigue to get their own nominees returned—the entire proceedings were one long scene of bribery, trickery, and illegality, brute-force, and disorder. On the occasion in question, 1770, the administration seems to have been slightly cowed by the results of their ill-advised manœuvres to impose placemen upon the county: the recent Middlesex proceedings were still a source of concern; the constitution had been violated—not with impunity,—and serious effects in the way of impeachment were by no means impossible: consequently, the people being left to the legitimate exercise of their liberties, the election passed off in the pacific, well-ordered, and regular manner described, freedom did not degenerate into licence, “no one was a penny the worse,” and the representative system in its purity of action was for once maintained in Westminster.