Fortunately there was one constituency which, even before the Reform Bill of 1832, had moved far towards representative democracy. This was the City of Westminster, which had the incidental advantage of being the best-publicised electoral district in the country. It was a constituency in which male ratepayers were entitled to vote and where many of the residents were, in fact, ratepayers. Geographically, it extended from the City of London in the east to Kensington in the west, from Oxford Street in the north to the Thames in the south. Instead of the half dozen or few score electors upon whom the "rotten boroughs" depended, Westminster boasted some 10,000 voters. They were not entirely incorruptible, but it proved notoriously difficult to bribe all of them to the same end.
The Westminster electors were not always progressive or Radical in their views. One of the members had been Charles James Fox, until his death the year before. Sheridan had put himself forward as a successor at the by-election but the electors preferred Earl Percy, son of the Duke of Northumberland. Francis Place remembered with disgust the sight of the Duke distributing bread, cheese, and beer to the mob from the steps of his house near Charing Cross, in order to ensure his son's election. The beer, ladled out in the hats of coal-heavers, led to a riot among the crowds and to the gutters running with the spilt brew.
At the general election of 1806, however, Westminster had returned Sheridan and Samuel Hood. By the spring of 1807, after so many elections in a few months, the mood of the constituency was hardly predictable. Yet Westminster was the one seat which offered Cochrane even a faint hope of re-election to the House of Commons. He did not propose to stand as a Radical but as an "independent" candidate, devoted to the cause of naval reform.
Sheridan was first among his opponents, an extinct volcano of rhetoric, now under a regime of three to six bottles of wine a day, fortified by brandy, which gave him the appearance of a worn-out debauchee and the constitution of a man with dropsy and an inflamed liver. He, least of anyone, wanted to face an election fight.
When the King dismissed the Whigs, Sheridan conceded that men banged their heads on brick walls, but George III was uniquely determined to collect the bricks to build the wall to bang his head against. Referring to Cochrane, Sheridan wrote to his son Tom, "I will have nothing to do with the Popery Lord." For all his reforming sympathies, Cochrane had a deep Protestant suspicion of the Catholic Church and was opposed to any extension of its political influence so long as it retained the practice of hearing confessions.59
The defeated Radical candidate at the last election, James Paull, a former merchant, ran again under the banner of "Liberty, Protection, Peace". Francis Place and the official Radical organisation disliked him, however, and withdrew their support. John Elliot, a brewer was the "ministerial" candidate.
When Cochrane joined the contest, the Radicals themselves were first to attack him. One of them, Henry Hunt, alias "Orator" Hunt, described the scepticism of the movement in the country and of its wealthy leader, Sir Francis Burdett. "So little faith had Sir F. Burdett and his friends in the sincerity of Cochrane's principles that they never drank his health, or even mentioned his name." Francis Place and the Radical electioneers of Westminster ignored him. William Godwin, father-in-law of Shelley and prophet of the new intellectual order, dismissed Cochrane with contempt. "He is the greatest fool I ever met with." By contrast, when James Paull addressed his supporters at a grand election dinner on i May 1807, he conceded that Cochrane was "a young man of understanding, and who had received a good education; but ... he did not conceive him a fit representative for Westminster".60
Undeterred by this, Cochrane moved into the constituency. He lodged with his rogue uncle, Andrew Cochrane-Johnstone, in Harley Street, and set up his committee rooms in hotels and taverns in Covent Garden, Golden Square, Cockspur Street, and New Bond Street. His election dinners were held in Willis's Rooms, St James's, and other meetings of his supporters by the glimmering yellow oil light of upper rooms in Westminster taverns. At the St Alban's Tavern he was closely questioned as to why he had chosen to stand for Westminster, having already been member for Honiton. He replied disingenuously: "A man representing a rotten borough cannot feel himself of equal consequence in the House with one representing such a city as Westminster."61
It was a well-chosen reply. To ready applause from the guests at his election dinner at Willis's rooms, Cochrane repeated his pledge.
"Independence is the Ground on which I am determined to stand or fall." And while the echoes of applause died away, his supporters took up the refrain of the song which had been specially composed for the election fight.62
All hail to the HERO - of ENGLAND the boast,
The honor - the glory - the pride of our coast;
Let the bells peal his name, and the cannons' loud roar,
Sound the plaudits of COCHRANE, the friend of her shore.63
And then the reason for so much brotherly vindictiveness by the Radicals became clear. The seat at Westminster was not intended for Cochrane but for the leader of the movement, past revolutionary and future Tory, Sir Francis Burdett. Born to great wealth, which he increased enormously by marrying the daughter of Thomas Coutts the banker, Burdett boasted two estates, one at Ramsbury and another, complete with Palladian mansion, at Fonmarke. His town house, at 78 Piccadilly, was also a convenient base for the Westminster election. He had been member for Middlesex since 1802, spending many thousands of pounds to ensure his return. But now Burdett, like Cochrane, felt the lure of representing a "democratic" and famous seat.
As a matter of fact, the most offended man in Westminster was James Paull, the Radical candidate, since he had been assuring everyone that he had the support of Burdett. One morning he woke to see placards and banners in Burdett's colours, dark blue with yellow lettering, proclaiming, "Burdett and Independence!" and "Burdett and Purity of Election!" and even, "Sir Francis - a plumper!" The last was particularly wounding, since it urged voters to use only one of their two votes and withhold the second, which might well have gone to Paull. To plump for Burdett was, inevitably, to spoil the chances of all other candidates, most of all the Radical who might have got the second vote.64
Offended honour knew only one consolation. Paull confronted Burdett at Kingston, in Combe Wood, and shot him in the thigh, suffering a minor leg wound himself from Burdett. To his existing reputation, Burdett was able to add the kudos of the wounded hero. He appeared rarely and then with the injured leg propped on a stool as he reclined upon cushions. But his campaign was vigorously conducted by proxy and he was the greatest of all threats to Cochrane's election.
The hustings, at which the candidates presented themselves to the voters, were to take place in Covent Garden on 7 May. Prior to that, however, there was leisure for the assassination of character. On 4 May, the Radicals announced from the Crown and Anchor Tavern in the Strand that "the recent conduct of Mr Paull has been such as to induce us to withdraw from him our support". Since Place and his friends had never seriously contemplated giving him their support this was the sort of gratuitous smear which was considered an elementary precaution in electioneering. But Paull was too busy slandering Sheridan to care about Place. His placards, the work of "Dolly Bull", appeared on wall and pillar, ironically listing the virtues of Sheridan.65
Has he ever basely made his friend's credulity the picklock to his property?
Has he ever by the most profligate extravagancies reduced honest tradesmen to penury and despair?
Does he pass his nights in inebriety and his days in sloth?
Does he pay homage to the smiles of Princes whilst be defies the laws of his God?66
The ironic answer to all these questions was "No", thereby refurbishing the image of Sheridan as an incompetent politician, an inordinate drunkard, the habitue of the Royal Pavilion who now lived in dread of the bailiff and the debtors' prison. The next day, the same walls carried an answer, denouncing Paull as no better than "the beastly Drunkard - the base Seducer - the deliberate Murderer". As fo
r Elliot, "supported by the minister and the Aristocracy", his opponents dismissed him as a joke. They dubbed him "Colonel Narcotic" and drew up an entirely bogus election address on his behalf, which was printed and distributed, showing him as feebleminded to the point of imbecility.67
Whatever Cochrane's faults, he appeared the epitome of dignified restraint by comparison with the poster war of Westminster's walls and pillars. His election dinner was characterised by "great mirth and good humour". He refused to ally himself with any faction or to pin the "Radical" label to himself. But he was adamant in his support for reform. "Victory! Cochrane! and Reform!" was the slogan of his placards. He might share the reforming zeal of the Radicals but he believed firmly that tyranny in France must be put down by England's military and naval resistance. His election song acquired a final verse, balancing these conflicting demands of war and peace.68
Thus while conquest and glory he spreads far and near,
And the sons of fair ALBION their COCHRANE revere:
While he hurls round the thunder and rides in the storm,
He is more than all this! He's the FRIEND of REFORM!69
On 7 May, the morning of the hustings, he put a small advertisement in the columns of the Morning Post, announcing that he would leave the British Coffee House in Cockspur Street at nine o'clock, "when I shall be thankful to any Gentleman who will do me the honour to accompany me to the Hustings".
The proceedings opened at ten o'clock, the High Bailiff reading the royal proclamation for the election of two Members of Parliament for the constituency. The officials and the candidates stood on the platform under a wooden roof, the whole structure resembling an open barn. Beyond the surrounding rails, the thousands of electors were packed into the square. After the election speeches formality required that the High Bailiff should demand a show of hands and would declare two candidates elected. But formality also required that those who had not been elected would then object and a poll would have to be held lasting for the next couple of weeks.
Burdett was not present but the first outburst of the hustings came when Paull and his supporters howled down his proposers, accusing them of "political apostasy and fraud" in withdrawing their support from Paull. Cochrane was better received, despite jeering from "Colonel Narcotic's" supporters in the crowd. In his naval uniform, his face reddened and freckled by months of Mediterranean sun and Biscay storms, he made an impressive figure. With an agility which he was more accustomed to show when boarding ships like the Gamo or reefing those like the Genereux, he sprang on to the dividing rail, holding his balance where all could see and hear him. Characteristically, he went straight to the attack, dealing briskly with those who suggested that a naval officer was an unfit representative for Westminster:
Let those who say so give us a list of those who are actually unfit to represent you in Parliament - Such as Placemen, Pensioners, and Fops - such as those who drive and dash about in their curricles in Bond-Street - they are a damned deal more unfit to represent you than such a man as I am.
The crowd responded to his quarterdeck rhetoric, the tepid applause soon drowned by a storm of cheering.
"Gentlemen," shouted Cochrane, "I would put a question to you. Do you think that a creature whose whole time almost is employed in making a noise at the head of his horses, and grinning to please the ladies; or, when he is displeased himself, breaking the heads of beasts by the hand of a brute - is such a man fit to represent you?" It was an apt portrait of ministerial men.
There was more cheering when Cochrane reminded his listeners that they, as electors, were liable to be prosecuted at law for bribery. Why not extend the law to apply also to those whom they elected and who, at the moment, practised parliamentary bribery on a massive scale with complete impunity?
By the time that Cochrane sat down, he had made a considerable impression by his homely oratory. If his posters and placards were more reticent than those of his opponents, the simple honesty and determined attack of his speech more than made up for this. When Elliot, the ministerial candidate, rose to speak, it was evident that Cochrane had stolen the limelight. Elliot spoke of his principles and policies, against a rising barrage of abuse, which ended, as the press remarked, in "uproar, and a manifest disinclination to hear anything on these topics".70
The speeches being over, the High Bailiff called for a show of hands and declared Cochrane and Elliot elected. The other candidates then demanded a poll, which opened about an hour later. At the end of the first day, Cochrane was in the lead with 112 votes to 99 for Elliot and 78 for Burdett. It was already clear that Sheridan and Paull were out of the race.
Day after day, the speeches and the riots of the hustings continued, as the votes were cast. The Westminster election became a national attraction, never more celebrated than in Gilray's cartoon which now occupied pride of place in the Piccadilly print-sellers and in the portfolios which lay open upon the drawing-room tables of the politically sophisticated. Election Candidates: or, The Republican Goose at the Top of the Pole, showed the hustings complete with a greasy pole (or poll) to whose top the candidates struggled to climb. Burdett, the republican goose, was assisted by a pitchfork applied to his feathered rump by the Radical clergyman Home Tooke. The goose's droppings fell copiously on the next scrabbling figure, "Sawney McCockran, flourishing the Cudgel of Naval Reform, lent to him by Cobbett". The defeated Sheridan appeared as "an Old Drury Lane Harlequin, trying in vain to make a spring to the Top of the Pole, his Broad Bottom always bringing him down again".
There was a particularly rowdy day at the hustings on 12 May when Cochrane was accused of "swearing publicly". He admitted that he had sworn once. "You swore twice!" roared the ministerial supporters in the crowd. "Well, it might be twice," said Cochrane impatiently. He could hardly credit that while electoral bribery and parliamentary corruption were matters of indifference, a candidate who said "damn" at the hustings had mortally injured the moral susceptibilities of the voters.
Among growing disturbance, Cochrane launched his main attack of the election on naval abuses. Then, as he began to talk about a certain "Noble Lord", the mob grew quiet and listened.
"What will those who hear me think," asked Cochrane, "of ships, wholly unfit for service, being purchased from Borough Proprietors, under the auspices of the Noble Person in question, for three times their value, merely to enable a man who has not a foot of land in the country, to raise himself into some consequence by purchasing in this manner an interest in rotten boroughs ? Every one who hears me must understand to whom I allude."
"Lord Melville! Lord Melville!" shouted a wag.
"No," said Cochrane sternly, "it is not Lord Melville, but a Noble person who has command of the Channel Fleet."71
By the next morning, this denunciation of Lord St Vincent as the political jobber responsible for the fates of such ships as the Atalante and the Felix appeared in every major newspaper. Cochrane's friends read with dismay of the manner in which he seemed determined to destroy his naval career: his enemies in the Admiralty rejoiced to see him delivered yet more surely into their clutches.
As the hustings drew to a close, Francis Place and the official Radicals worked untiringly for Burdett, who stood in danger of losing the contest to Cochrane and Elliot. Eagerly they tried to persuade the voters that though Burdett might appear to be a Tory gentleman with an obsession for fox hunting, and though he had spent £100,000 to secure his earlier election for Middlesex, he was in fact the pure apostle of reform, if not of revolution. Their efforts were well directed. When the final result was announced, Burdett had polled 5134; Cochrane, 3708; Sheridan, 2645; Elliot, 2137, and Paull, 269. Burdett and Cochrane were thus the two new members for Westminster. Sheridan had done unexpectedly well in the later stages but, as Francis Place explained, there was a special reason for this. "Sheridan was so far behind that he had no chance of outpoling Cochrane and as he begged hard to be permitted to make as respectable a show of numbers as he could, Lord Cochrane took his inspectors
away, and Sheridan polled whom he pleased and the same man over and over again as many times as he pleased."72
In winning the Westminster election, Cochrane had triumphed in no more than a preliminary political skirmish. The procedures and tactics of the House of Commons were as treacherous in their way as the rocks of Ushant. Indeed, there already lay in wait for him humiliations and defeats so frequent as to make some of his colleagues wonder if, after all, Cochrane might not be the stupidest man in politics, as Godwin believed. The courage which he had shown in war and the breezy honesty of his mob oratory were neither of them assets in an assembly whose older members were jaded to the point of cynicism.
However, Parliament opened on 26 June and Cochrane at last took his place on the benches of the Commons. It was a smaller and more intimate arena than its reputation suggested. Its dimensions were those of a small chapel with narrow galleries above the opposing benches, the bare Georgian interior having as its focal point the three rounded windows behind the Speaker's chair. The galleries were low enough, as Creevey describes, for a noble visitor like the Duke of Clarence, later William IV, to lean over and "halloo" into the debating chamber, in his amiable and simple manner, as though he were part of the proceedings. Beneath each gallery rose four tiers of benches, for government and opposition respectively, with a dozen feet of bare floorboards between the two parties. Far back under the galleries were the curtains, behind which elderly members were able to doze while still being available to vote if a division were called, and from behind which younger and more impatient members would interrupt proceedings with loud cock crows when they felt that their elders had allowed debate to dawdle on too late into the night.
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