John Campbell’s luck ran out at Malplaquet. His elder brother James, who commanded the Scots Greys with great distinction that day, wrote to tell their brother that:
Colonel Hepburn’s [Regiment] is all cut to pieces the colonel and lieutenant colonel is killed our brother John is shot through the arm I have seen him this day, his surgeons have very good hopes of him and he is very hearty …
Despite the rush of claims on his interest produced by heavy casualties amongst senior officers, Marlborough ensured that John received the colonelcy of Tullibardine’s Regiment, left vacant by Tullibardine’s death at Malplaquet, but he died of his wound. James saw him buried in the Capuchin cloister in Brussels: seventy grenadiers with blazing torches followed him to the grave. ‘It is such a great loss that we cannot enough regret,’ wrote James. ‘This is a prodigious loss to your lordship and me to lose such a brother and comrade I do assure you that he is regretted by every one that knew him.’66
William Cadogan, told that he was to be ennobled for his service against the Jacobites in 1715, at once wrote to Marlborough, his patron, to ‘beg leave to return my most humble thanks for your great goodness in being pleased to approve of the good success I have endeavoured to render here, and your Grace’s representing them so very favourably to his Majesty’. He hoped to style his barony after ‘Cadogan, near Wrexham on the borders of Wales’, and, reminding Marlborough that he had no son, hoped that the title would be allowed to pass sideways to his brother. ‘I humbly beg pardon for mentioning it,’ he concluded, ‘and entreat your Grace would consider it no more than if I had not.’67 He was next elevated to an earldom in 1716, after distinguished diplomatic service in Europe, as ‘Earl of Cadogan, in Denbighshire, Viscount of Caversham in Oxfordshire; and Baron Oakley, in Buckinghamshire’.68 The barony did indeed pass on to his brother Charles, and the earldom, with the new viscountcy of Chelsea added, was later revived for his descendants.
Interest was at its most viscid at election time. The House of Commons had 513 Members before union with Scotland in 1707 added forty-five Scots Members, bringing the total to 558, ‘knights of the shire’ for rural areas and burgesses for the boroughs. Throughout our period the franchise was limited, in the forty English counties, to ‘forty shilling freeholders’, and in the boroughs to men meeting the appropriate local qualification. For instance, there were ‘corporation boroughs’, where the corporation – maybe as few as thirteen men or as many as fifty-four – could vote; ‘freeman boroughs’ where all freemen – like London’s 8,000 liverymen – could vote; and ‘burgage boroughs’ where the franchise was attached to particular parcels of land, leaving Old Sarum in Wiltshire with just ten voters in 1705. Perhaps one man in seven had the vote. There was no secret ballot; most constituencies returned two Members, and many would-be MPs stood for several constituencies at once to allow a greater chance of success. It was to take the Industrial Revolution and the burgeoning of manufacturing centres to render the whole system palpably absurd, with great cities unrepresented while some tiny boroughs, villages then and now, glibly returned their two Members.
There were many ‘pocket boroughs’, where the electors were so dependent on a major landowner as to be effectively in his pocket, and ‘rotten boroughs’ where electors cheerfully sold themselves to the highest bidder. Although the high-minded occasionally inveighed against the system, there was no real pressure for change, certainly not from the electors themselves, who stood to gain good dinners and full pockets by its survival. In 1716 the electors of Marlborough sent a flowery petition to Parliament, attacking the Septennial Act and unsuccessfully arguing that triennial Parliaments were ‘the greatest security to the preservation of liberty’.
The Earl of Ailesbury’s family was Scots by origin and owned land in Bedfordshire, but it had a substantial interest in the Wiltshire constituencies of Marlborough, Great Bedwyn and Ludgershall. With the earl in exile in the Low Countries his son, Lord Bruce, presided over the family’s borough-mongering. In November 1701 the economist Charles Davenant, who had already represented the pocket borough of Great Bedwyn, told Bruce that seeking election at Ampthill, also within the family’s sphere of influence but less securely in its pocket, would require personal effort and financial outlay: it was therefore too risky for him.
I received the packet from Ampthill, and the letters from there have quite made me lay aside the thought of standing there. Besides, the electors are generally such a corrupt pack of rogues that it is a chance an honest gentleman should represent them. I hope I have done my country so much service that some friend or other will bring me into this Parliament.69
In April 1705 Bruce’s agent warned him that there was dirty work afoot at Great Bedwyn, where ‘three or four score of the voters have received £5 each and have engaged to serve Pollexfen whose agents gave £5 to the women under pretence of their spinning five pounds of wool at 20 shillings a pound’. The night before the election the Whig agents got sixteen of the electors blind drunk, and the candidates’ servants kept them under guard until they were frogmarched to the hustings to cast their ballots.
Seven months later the agent wrote to say that another of the Bruce family’s bastions was under attack:
I was yesterday at Marlborough and find the [Whig] Duke [of Somerset’s] agents very lavish in their expenses and offers. Williams is about paying £30 debts for Solomon Clarke, and almost as much for Flurry Bowshire, so they are wavering. Persons are at work to counterplot them.
When Lord Bruce asked who this Mr Bowshire might be, his agent answered: ‘Flurry Bowshire is he with one eye, and jealous, it is said, of his wife.’ Happily, Solomon Clarke, offered £20 and a job as porter by the duke’s agent, had turned him down, ‘and vowed he would not serve him if he would give him the castle and the barton farm’.70
Although candidates and their agents did what they could to make bribery less obvious, elections were regularly overturned when disappointed candidates petitioned the Commons, although, oddly enough, the outcome of the challenge often reflected the political balance of the House. Even ‘legitimate’ expenses might raise a modern eyebrow. The Tory magnate Sir Edward Seymour was a Member for the city of Exeter in 1688–89. Before the vote he gave the electors a good dinner of the roast beef of old England, ‘two pieces of rib-beef weighing 96lb at 3d per lb – £1 4s 6d’. After it he distributed ‘25 bottles of sherry … 11 bottles and one pint of canary … 11 bottles of claret …’ Of the total drinks bill of £3.8s.4d, a mere fourpence was spent on ale.71
There was much more to electioneering than simple bribery, for family influence and local allegiances ran strong. Edward Seymour was a prominent figure in the West Country, colonel of the Devon militia, and men spoke of his ‘Western Empire’. The Tories certainly had it their own way in Cornwall. The county’s sturdy gentry families like the Grenvilles, Slannings and Trevanions had raised some of the very best royalist infantry in the Civil War, and in William’s last Parliament only half a dozen of the county’s forty-four MPs were whiggish. In Devonshire, however, religious dissent was strong, and the Whigs enjoyed the support of the powerful Russell family.
But the Bishop of Exeter was Sir Jonathan Trelawney, baronet, a local magnate in his own right. He was one of the seven bishops tried for their opposition to James II, but one of the two of this number who were prepared to swear allegiance to William and Mary. He was a Tory by upbringing and conviction, and used his power-base to increase his interest. In 1703 he reminded the Tory Earl of Nottingham, one of the two secretaries of state, that he had secured the election of eleven Tory Members, but nothing had so far been done to relieve his ‘numerous family from the burdens of a poor bishopric’. Wondrous to relate, Trelawney soon found himself promoted to the rich see of Winchester, and appointed