WHEN the late Lord Lyndhurst was a candidate for the rep­re­sen­ta­tion of the University of Cambridge, I met Mr. ——, a Whig in politics, and a great friend of Dr. Wollaston. After the usual salutation, he said, “I hope you will go down to Cambridge and vote for our friend Copley.” I made no answer, but, looking full in his face, waited for some explanation. “Oh,” said Mr. ——, “I see what you mean. You think him a Tory; Copley still is what he always has been—a republican.” I replied that I was equally unable to vote for him upon that ground, and wished my friend good morning. {260}

A few evenings after I met the beautiful Lady Copley, who also canvassed me for my vote for her husband. I had the energy to resist even this temptation, which I should not have ventured to mention did not the poll-book enable me to refer to it as a witness of my unrivalled virtue.

Some years after, in 1829, a vacancy again arose in the rep­re­sen­ta­tion of the University of Cambridge. Mr. Cavendish having recently waived the privilege of his rank, which entitled him, after a residence of two years, to take the degree of Master of Arts, had entered into competition with the whole of the young men of his own standing, and had obtained the distinguished position of second wrangler and senior Smith’s prize man. Under such circumstances, it was quite natural that all those who felt it important that the accidental aristocracy of birth should be able to maintain its position by the higher claim of superior knowledge; as well as all those who took a just pride in their Alma Mater, should wish to send such a man as their rep­re­sen­ta­tive to the House of Commons.

A very large meeting of the electors was held in London, over which the Earl of Euston presided. It was unanimously resolved to nominate Mr. Cavendish as a proper person to represent the University of Cambridge in the House of Commons. A committee was appointed to carry on the election, of which I was nominated chairman. Similar proceedings took place at Cambridge. The family of the young but distinguished candidate were not at first very willing to enter upon the contest. As it advanced, the committee-room became daily more and more frequented. Ultimately, in the midst of the London season, and during the sitting of the House of Commons, this single election excited an intense interest amongst men of all parties, whilst those who {261} supported Mr. Cavendish upon higher grounds were not less active than the most energetic of his political supporters.

At all elections some few men, perhaps from four or five up to ten or twelve, do all the difficult and real work of the committee. The committee itself is, for several reasons, generally very numerous.

All who are supposed to have weight are, of course, put upon it.

Many who wish to appear to have weight get their names upon it.

Some get put upon it thinking to establish a political claim upon the party.

Others because they like to see their names in the newspapers.

Others again, who, if not on his committee, would vote against the candidate.

There are also idlers and busybodies, who go there to talk or to carry away something to talk about, which may give them importance in their own circle.

Young lawyers, of both departments of the profession, are very numerous, possessing acute perceptions of pro­fes­sion­al advantage.

A jester and a good story-teller are very useful; but a jolly and enterprising professor of rhodomontade is on some occasions invaluable—more especially if he is not an Irishman.

Oc­ca­sion­al­ly a few simply honest men are found upon committees. These are useful as adjuncts to give a kind of high moral character to the cause; but the rest of the committee generally think them bores, and when they differ upon any point from the worldly members, it is invariably whispered that they are crotchety fellows. {262}

When any peculiarly delicate question arises, it is sometimes important to eliminate one or more of them temporarily from the real committee of management. This is accomplished (as in graver matters) by sending him on an embassy, usually to one of the adepts, with a confidential mission on a subject represented to him as of great importance. The adept respectfully asks for his view of the subject, rather opposes it, but not too strongly; is at last convinced, and ultimately entirely adopts it. The adept then enters upon the honest simpleton’s crotchet, trots it out in the most indulgent manner, and at length sends him back, having done the double service of withdrawing him from a consultation at which he might have impeded the good cause, and also of enabling him at any future time to declare truly, if necessary, that he never was present at any meeting at which even a questionable course had been proposed.

One of the most difficult as well as of the most important departments of some elections is the pairing sub-committee. When I had myself to arrange it, I generally picked out two of the cleverest and most quick-witted of the committee. I told them I had perfect confidence in their judgment and discretion, and therefore constituted them a sub-committee, with absolute power on all questions of pairing. I also entirely forbade any appeal to myself. I then advised them to have attached to them a couple of good and entertaining talkers, to hold in play the applicants while they retired to ascertain the policy of the proposed pair.

Upon one occasion, when both my persuasive gentlemen were absent, I was obliged to officiate myself. I soon discovered that the adverse vote was very lukewarm in his own cause, and was also very averse to the prospect of missing a great cricket-match if he went to the poll. Whilst my {263} pairing committee were making the necessary inquiries, I was so fortunate as to secure the promise of his vote for my own candidate at the succeeding election. In the meantime the pairing committee had kindly taken measures to save him from missing his cricket-match without, however, wasting a pair.

Yet not­with­stand­ing all my efforts to introduce primitive virtue into electioneering, I did not always succeed. About a dozen years had elapsed after one of the elections I had managed, when the subject was mentioned at a large dinner-table. A supporter of the adverse political party, referring to the contest, stated as a merit in his friends that they had succeeded in outwitting their opponents, for on one occasion they had got a man on their side who had unluckily just broken his arm, whom they succeeded in pairing off against a sound man of their adversaries. Remembering my able coadjutors in that contest, I had little doubt that a good explanation existed; so the next time I met one of them I mentioned the circumstance. He at once admitted the fact, and said, “We knew perfectly well that the man’s arm was broken; but our man, whom we paired off against him, had no vote.” He then added, “We were afraid to tell you of our success.” To which I replied, “You acted with great discretion.”

University elections are of quite a different class from all others. The nature of the influences to be brought to bear upon the voters is of a peculiar kind: the clerical element is large, and they are for the greater part expectant of something better hereafter.

The first thing to be done in any election contest is to get as exact a list as possible of the names and addresses of the voters. In a university contest the chairman should adopt {264} certain letters or other signs to be used in his own private copy attached to the names of the clerical voters. These should indicate—

• The books such voter may have written.
• The nature of his preferment.
• The source whence derived.
• The nature of his expectations.
• The source whence expected.
• The age of the impediment.
• The state of its health.
• The chance of its promotion.

Possessed of a full knowledge of all these circumstances, a paragraph in a newspaper regretting the alarming state of health of some eminent divine will frequently decide the oscillation even of a cautious voter.

This dodge is the more easily practised because some eminent divines, on the approach of an university election, oc­ca­sion­al­ly become ill, and even take to their bed, in order to avoid the bore of being canvassed, or of committing themselves until they see “how the land lies.”

The motives which induce men to act upon election committees are various. The hope of advancement is a powerful motive. It was stated to me by some of my committee, that every really working member of the committee which a few years before had managed the election of Copley for the University of Cambridge had already been rewarded by place or advancement.

My two most active lieutenants in the two contests for Cambridge, to which I have referred, were not neglected. One of them shortly after became a Master in Chancery, and the other had a place in India, producing £10,000 a year. {265}

The highest compliment, however, that party can pay to those who thus assist them is entirely to ignore their service, and pass them over on every occasion. This may be done with impunity to the very few who have such strong convictions that no amount of neglect or ill-usage can cause them to desert those principles of the soundness of which their reason is convinced. This course has also the great advantage of economizing patronage.

Always ascertain who are the personal enemies of the opposing candidate. If skilfully managed, you may safely depend upon their becoming the warmest friends of your own. Their enthusiasm can be easily stimulated: their zeal in the cause may shame some of your own lukewarm friends into greater earnestness. Men will always give themselves tenfold more trouble to crush a man obnoxious to their hatred than they will take to serve their most favoured ally.

When I have been chairman of an election committee I have found it advantageous to commence my duties early in the morning, and to remain until late at night. There is always something to be done for the advancement of the cause. In the first Cambridge election in which I took part I invariably remained at my post until midnight; and in the second, I was seldom absent at that hour.

One evening, being alone, I employed myself in looking through our lists to find the names of all voters at that period unaccounted for. The first name which attracted my attention was that of a liberal with whom I was personally unacquainted. The next day I set at work one of my investigating committee. In the course of the following day, he had traced out the voter, who at that time was at Berlin. As there was ample time for his return, a friend was employed to write to him, and he returned and voted for our candidate. {266}

On another evening, the name of Minchin turned up on the list. I remembered the man, whom I had met very frequently at the rooms of one of my most intimate friends; but I had not seen him for nearly twenty years.

The next day, after many inquiries, I found that he had been lost sight of for a long time, and it was believed that he had gone out to India. I immediately sent a note to a friend of mine, Captain Robert Locke, who commanded an Indiaman, to beg of him to look in upon me at the committee-room. In two hours he called and informed me that Minchin was a barrister at Calcutta, and was about to return to England. On my expressing a wish for further particulars, he kindly went into the City to procure information, and on his return told me that Minchin was on his voyage home in the “Herefordshire,” an excellent ship. It was due on a certain day, about a fortnight thence, and would in all probability not be three days behind its time.

In the evening, being again alone in the committee-room, I resumed the Minchin question, and found that he might possibly arrive on the second of the three days’ polling. I therefore wrote the following letter:—

I addressed this letter to Minchin at Portsmouth, and {267} making two copies of it, directed them to two other seaports. When I put these letters into the basket, I smiled at my own simplicity in speculating on the triple improbability—

• 1. That Minchin should ever get my letter.
• 2. That his ship, which was expected, should really arrive on the second or third of the three days of polling.
• 3. That a young lawyer should not have changed his political principles in twenty years.

However, I considered that the chance of this election lottery-ticket winning for us a vote, although very small, was at least worth the three sheets of letter-paper which it cost our candidate.

Amidst the bustle of the election this subject was entirely forgotten. The first day of polling arrived, and was concluded, and as usual I was sitting, at midnight, alone in the large committee-room, when the door opened, and there entered a man enveloped in a huge box-coat, who advanced towards me. He held out his hand, and grasping mine, said, “I have not altered my political principles.” This was Minchin, to whom the pilot, cruizing about on the look-out for the “Herefordshire,” had delivered a packet of letters.

The first letter Minchin opened was mine. He immediately went below, told his wife that he must get into the boat which had just put the pilot on board, and hasten to Cambridge, whilst she remained with the children to pursue their voyage to London. Minchin returned in the pilot-boat to Portsmouth, found a coach just ready to start, got up on the roof, borrowed a box-coat, and on arriving in London, drove directly to the committee-room. Finding that it {268} would be most convenient to Minchin to start immediately for Cambridge, I sent off a note to the Temple for the most entertaining man39 upon the committee; I introduced him to Minchin, and they posted down to Cambridge, and voted on the second day.

Greatly to the credit and to the advantage of the University, Mr. Cavendish was elected on this occasion.

In May, 1832, after the passing of the Reform Bill, there was a dissolution of Parliament. At the general election which ensued, Lord Palmerston and Mr. Cavendish, the two former members, again became candidates. Two of the most active members of Mr. Cavendish’s former committee called upon me, one of whom began speaking in somewhat complimentary phrases of our young candidate. I was listening attentively to all that could be said in favour of the Cavendish family, when his companion, suddenly interrupting him, said, “No, —— that won’t do for Babbage.” He then continued, in terms which I have no wish to repeat, to speak of our candidate, and concluded by saying, that they expressed the opinion of all the working members of the former committee, and came by their desire to request me again to take the chair during the approaching contest; stating, also, that there was no other man under whom they would all willingly act. He then entreated me to be their chairman, not for the sake of the Cavendishes, but for the sake of the cause.

This appeal was irresistible. I immediately acceded to their request, but with one reservation, in case my brother-in-law’s seat was contested, that I should have three days to help him at Bridgenorth.

Under such circumstances the contest commenced. I can {269} truly add, that amongst the many elections in which I have taken an active working share, none was ever carried on with greater zeal, nor were greater efforts ever made to attain success.

I had good reason at its commencement to doubt the success of our candidate: not from any defect on his part, but entirely on political grounds. The same reasons induced me to suppose that Lord Palmerston’s seat was equally in danger. Of course, a tone of perfect confidence was sustained, and, but for a very inopportune petition signed by a considerable number of members of the University, I believe that we might have managed, by a compromise with the other party, to have secured one seat for our own. As it was, however, both the Liberal candidates were defeated.

The contingency I had anticipated did occur. I was sent for, and went down by the mail to assist Mr. Wolryche Whitmore. On my arrival, I found that circumstances had entirely changed, and not only my brother-in-law, but also Mr. Foster, a large iron-master, was to be returned for Bridgenorth without a contest.