Towards the close of the year 1903 the Earl of Harrowby generously presented to the Mayor and Corporation of Tiverton a very complete collection of manuscripts carefully preserved by his ancestors and relating to the Parliamentary connection between themselves and the old Corporation of Tiverton, swept away by the municipal Reform Act of 1834–5. The general nature of the tie has long been known. It was a political nexus binding privileged burgesses to an influential family, and the sanction was interest. The motto might have been, on both sides, do ut des, for, while there were many professions of personal attachment, which may have been real, it was well understood that the cornerstone of the whole edifice was mutual advantage. As the connection, venal in origin, crystallized into permanence and respectability, it lost something of its sordid character. Sentiments of honour and loyalty, and even chivalric devotion, were spoken and cultivated, but these were the accidents, the trimmings. The substance remained what it had always been—reciprocal profit. All this was vaguely familiar to the present generation of townspeople, to whom traditions of the ancien régime had descended from their forefathers, but the arrival of twenty-six stout files, crowded with an infinite variety of curious particulars, has made an evident change in the situation. We no longer behold through the dark windows of distorted memory. Now at last we see face to face; and for the authors of some of those “human documents” the Day of Doom would have already dawned, but for the screen of their own insignificance, which incriminating papers may remove, but the discretion of the censor at once re-erects.
From a Lithograph]
[by W. Spreat, Jun.
St. Peter’s Church, Tiverton.
Before we speak of Tiverton as an appanage of the Ryders, it will be desirable to glance at the subject of pocket boroughs in general. There are no pocket boroughs or rotten boroughs now, and readers who have bestowed no special attention on political or constitutional developments, may be glad of some measure of illumination as to their rise and their place in the representative system of England. An impression formerly prevailed that the institution dated from the great Revolution, but this, it will be easy to show, was a fallacy. It was much older. On the other hand, the pocket-borough was never substituted by the arbitrary action of the Crown for the open borough, although it was the settled belief of many of the inhabitants of Tiverton that under the provisions of that mighty instrument, Magna Carta, the right of returning members had been inalienably secured to them, and the circumstance that this right was in fact exercised by neighbouring towns, like Barnstaple and Taunton, was considered proof that the local potwallers, or potwallopers, were the victims of invidious and illegal discrimination. “Magna Carta,” said Sir Edward Coke, “is such a fellow that he will not fear an equal”; and if it had been true that open voting in the boroughs had been promulgated as the law of the land after Runnymede, it has been judicially determined that no departure from that principle, brought about by the use of the Royal prerogative or by any other means, would have been recognized as valid. The terms of Magna Carta, however, do not countenance the view that the burgesses of any given town became entitled at their own option to send deputies to Parliament, or that universal suffrage was the rule. On the contrary, Parliamentary representation had at that time no existence either in theory or in practice. The Commons were simply tenants in capite of the Crown. After 1265, no doubt, elections began to be held, and many little places were summoned to return members, who received salaries from their constituencies in payment of their services. This charge rendered the honour a costly burden, and Edward I., one of the wisest of our princes, varied the direction of the writs so as to distribute the maintenance of the new third estate over as wide an area as possible. The towns themselves did not greatly value the franchise, and, in many instances, petitioned to be relieved of the dubious privilege. It seems unquestionable that the mere receipt of an occasional summons did not create or confirm any inherent or indefeasible right of unbroken representation, nor do we meet with any attempt to institute such a system until the days of the Reformation, when a new spirit invaded the country and the Commons, as a branch of the Legislature, made rapid strides in numbers and importance.
Then it was that the lawyers of the Inns of Court, many of them Puritan in sympathy, disinterred the ancient records, and, on the strength of one or two summonses, insisted that such demesne towns, some mere villages, were boroughs by prescription, and as such possessed the right to send representatives to Parliament for all time. The consequence was that about thirty towns, in which great men at Court had an interest, resumed their lapsed privileges, and by the reign of Queen Elizabeth the Lower House had received an accession of sixty fresh members. This seems to have been brought about in the first instance by the sheriffs sending precepts to the places in question, and although in the thirteenth year of Elizabeth a debate took place regarding the admission of members from towns not hitherto represented, the practice was not seriously challenged owing to the efficient patronage and protection of the courtiers before named. In subsequent reigns the Commons themselves proceeded to enlarge their body. James I., indeed, talked of reform, but that pedantic monarch, far from checking the growth of the borough system, was the very sovereign to whom Tiverton was indebted for its charter.
The small borough, in the nature of things, tended to become a pocket-borough. In the reign of Elizabeth the Earl of Leicester “owned” the town of Andover; and the degree to which this form of property was stretched is amusingly illustrated by the well-known story of Ann Clifford, Countess of Pembroke, who lived in the days of the Merry Monarch. The Secretary of State, Sir Joseph Williamson, had sent her a letter in which he named a particular candidate for her borough of Appleby. Incensed at this presumption, the haughty dame returned the following reply: “I have been bullied by an usurper, I have been neglected by a court, but I will not be dictated to by a subject. Your man shan’t stand.”
The system, it goes without saying, lent itself to numberless kinds of abuse. It has been stated that at one period a mistress of the King of France acquired some borough, and that the Nabob of Arcot was able to secure the return of seven or eight members, all pledged to his interest. These assertions may be true or they may not, but the possibility of such anomalies did not deter apologists from affirming that the system was not by any means an unmixed evil.
A splendid senate, too, requires the gay ornamental parts, a sort of shining plumage. The witty, the ingenious, the elegant, should be represented. They were faithfully represented in our time by a Sheridan, a Hare, a Fitzpatrick. Would a young adventurer, as Sheridan was at his entrance in life, have attracted the eyes of the crowd? Would the attic Hare or courtly Fitzpatrick have contended at a scene like the Westminster election? We might have lost not only them, but even the philosophic eloquence of Burke if all the returns were to proceed from the crowd.—(George Moore, History of the British Revolution, p. 341.)