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CITY SCRAPS.

NO. CCXCIII.—LORD MAYOR BECKFORD.

     WILLIAM BECKFORD, a ruler and exciter of political storms in his own day, though now almost forgotten, was a native of Jamaica, and did not come to this country until he was fourteen years of age. It is supposed, though there seems no certainty on the subject, for some authorities place it in 1705, that he was born in 1699 or 1700. On his arrival in England, his friends placed him at Westminster school, where he pursued his studies with credit, and became acquainted with several young men who ultimately rose to great distinction. On leaving school his colonial property and connexions determined his career in life, and he became a West Indian planter and merchant. He acquired a large fortune, and in 1747 was chosen member of Parliament, both for London and the borough of Petersfield. When resolving to represent the City, he gave to the Borough, as an acknowledgement for the compliment paid him, 400l., to pave the streets. From the first Mr. Beckford was a busy member in the House of Commons, ‟disdaining *as he said) to be one of the supernumeraries attending the throne.” The language of his speeches was of a very uncourtierlike kind. He was always vehement in opposing all continental connexions, and in 1759, when the German war was discussed, he declared ‟that to support it would be more burdensome than the yoke of an enemy. We pay exorbitantly for every necessary article of constitution, and the Government contracts are already high. In a recent account a drawbridge is put at 80,000l., and I am assured it is not worth more than 7,000l.; the surplus will be a pretty perquisite in the pocket of a hungry foreigner; but God help us, we must pay for all!”

     Mr. Beckford was incessantly occupied. He was a merchant, a commandant of Militia, a senator, a provincial magistrate, and a City Alderman. Being accused of non-attendance at the Aldermanic Courts, he appeared (this was in 1761) to justify his conduct. The hall was crowded, and on rising to speak he was loudly hissed, and could not obtain a hearing for more than an hour. In a lull of comparative silence, he said, ‟Gentlemen, I am here to-day both in justice to you and myself. You seem to entertain an unfavourable opinion of my conduct; but I boldly say, as an honest man, I have not deserved it. It is my chief pride to be your representative, and I should deeply regret losing the high honour. Yet I cannot flatter you, to gain your applause. I am outspoken, and must always act with openness and honesty. My talents may be humble, but you cannot find any one who will serve you with more zeal, nor do I think I have merited the treatment I have received this day. I am accused of non-attendance here; but remember that in winter I must be in the House of Commons, and no man can be in two places at once. In summer, too, I am engaged as a Militia officer, and when I am at drill I cannot attend the Court of Aldermen. I offend, it seems, because I do not canvass personally for votes; But I respect you too much, and love the constitution too well, to infringe the freedom of election. I did not canvass at the last general election. I I have not done so for the approaching one. I tell you candidly I will never canvass you; you shall elect me without a canvass, or not at all. This is my defence, if it does not satisfy you I must thank you for past favours, and as I am sure of a seat, though I may not represent London, I will still exert myself for your service, as I have always done.” The citizens applauded his candour, and his re-election was secured.

     In 1758 he served the office of Sheriff, and the splendour of his public entertainments astonished his guests, and increased the number of his supporters. In 1762 he signified his intention too resign the aldermanic gown. His respect was not accorded, and on Michaelmas Day he was declared Lord Mayor Elect, against his expressed wishes.Appearing on the hustings, he said, ‟I wished to be excused serving on account of ill health, and the great multiplicity of business on my hands, which will prevent my discharging the duties as they ought to be discharged. Yet I venerate the name of citizen—all say family are citizens, some of them have borne the highest offices for a century past, and as you are pleased to elect me, I will perform my duties as well as I can, whatever may be the consequences.” Mr. Beckford spared splendour as Lord Mayor; his state coach was a miracle of gilding and colour, and the beautiful horses harnessed to it were of Flemish growth. ‟For,” says our authority, ‟in that country (Flanders) the tails of horses are not cut, as in England.” He gave four sumptuous banquets during his year, which it was believed had never been equalled. In 1769 he was again put in nomination for the Mayoralty, and was opposed by Alderman Trescothick and Sir Henry Bankes. The show of hands was in his favour but a poll was demanded, and the numbers were as follows:—Beckford, 1967; Trescothick, 1911; Bankes, 676. The Court decided for Mr. Beckford, by a majority of 16 to 6, though he sought to decline the dignity, assuring them that, ‟the spirit was strong, but the flesh weak.” His refusal to take upon him the office (whether real or affected, who can tell?) led to strong measures by the Livery, about fifty of whom, in fourteen coaches, with the Sheriffs in state, went to his house, in Soho-square, and were cordially welcomed. The Chairman warmly urged him, at that important crisis, to serve the office of Lord Mayor a second time, when, yielding to their desire, he told them, ‟that notwithstanding his years and infirmities, he would devote himself for the service, not only of his fellow citizens, but of the nation. That he would go to Fonthill for eight days, to settle his private affairs, and then give his whole time to the important trust.” He then handed the following letter to the Sheriffs for the Lord Mayor (he had left the room to write it.):—

     Again he proved the most magnificent of civic sovereigns. His state coach is thus described: ‟The box covered with crimson velvet, embroidered with gold; a cornucopia of flowers at each corner; in the centre, his own arms richly emblazoned, and the motto, ‛Libertas pretiosior auro ;’ the City arms beneath, and above the cap of liberty. Harness grand—horses beautiful, iron greys, with black manes, tails and muzzles; they are fourteen hands three inches high.” On being sworn in at Westminster, he ordered to be given in the parish of St. Ann, Soho, to every poor man, a log of mutton, a half-peck loaf, three pounds of potatoes, and half-a-crown; to every poor woman, six pounds of beef, one quartern and one threepenny loaf, and one shilling and sixpence; and to every poor family one guinea. The procession on Lord Mayor’s day was a great success, the crowd being immense, and their acclamations enthusiastic. Among the crowd were a band of sturdy fellows, with blue cockades in their hats, on which were inscribed, ‟Beckford and No.45,” with the words, ‟Liberty, Porter, and Money,” as their version of Beckford’s motto. A chronicler of the Guildhall Banquet, in the list of the guests, says: ‟There were present Lord Temple with a garter more than any other man, and Mr. Serjeant Glynn without any garter at all; Colonel Barre with a single eye: and Lord Shelburne with a single heart.” It was a period of almost frantic political excitement, and such red-hot descriptions pleased the public. 

     Most persons were satisfied with Beckford's election—not so the Recorder of London, for on introducing the Lord Mayor Elect to the Lord Chancellor, to be sworn in, he is reported to have said: ‟I present, for your Lordship’s approbation, Mr. Alderman Beckford, elected bv the Livery and approved by the Court of Aldermen, though an express bye-law of the City renders him incapable of exercising the office.” To which the Lord Chancellor answered, ‟Notwithstanding the singularity of your introduction, I have the pleasure of being able to give an entire approbation of the present choice of the City of London. This, his second election, is most honourable to Mr. Beckford, and my own knowledge of him makes me think that the choice of such a chief magistrate, reflects honour on the electors. Mr. Beckford’s independence of character merits tho highest applause.” Early in 1770, a petition from the Livery for a redress of grievances was presented to the King (George III.), who did not deign any reply. A strong remonstrance was then voted. After some opposition, it was ordered to be presented in the usual manner. In the following May, another address was presented, relative to the treatment of Wilkes by the House of Commons, and it contained an allusion to tho King’s reply to the former remonstrance, which was designated an affront to the City, an ‟awful sentence of censure,” when the Sovereign replied ‟that he should have been wanting in duty to the public, as well as to himself, if he had not expressed his dissatisfaction at the late address, his sentiments upon which remained the same.” Royal answers to addresses are never replied upon, but on this occasion we are assured (though Horace Walpole denies it), the Lord Mayor spoke as follows:—Most Gracious Sovereign, will your Majesty be pleased so far to condescend as to permit the Mayor of your loyal City to declare in your royal presence, on behalf of his fellow Citizens, how much the apprehension of your royal displeasure would at all times affect their minds; the declaration of that displeasure has already filled them with inexpressible anxiety, and with the deepest affliction. Permit me, Sire, to assure your Majesty, that your Majesty has not in all your dominions any subjects more faithful, more dutiful, or more affectionate to your Majesty’s person and family, or more ready to sacrifice their lives and fortunes in the maintenance of the true honour and dignity of your crown. We do, therefore, with the greatest humility and submission, most earnestly supplicate your Majesty, that you will not dismiss us from your presence, without expressing a more favourable opinion of your faithful Citizens, and without some comfort, without some prospect at least, of redress. Permit me, Sire, farther to observe, that whoever has already dared, or shall endeavour, by false asseverations and suggestions to alienate your Majesty’s affections from your loyal subjects in general, and from those of the City of London in particular, and to regard your confidence in, and regard for your people, is an enemy to your Majesty’s person and family, a violater of the public peace, and a betrayer of our happy constitution as it was established at the glorious Revolution.” No reply was given, and when Mr. Beckford attended with another address with congratulations on the birth of a Princess, he was not allowed to enter the presence chamber, until the lord in waiting had ascertained that it was his intention not to answer the reply of the Sovereign. 

     It is impossible now to ascertain what portion of the speech (if any), as given above, and as engraved on Beckford’s monument, in Guildhall, was actually delivered. The words ascribed to him are variously rendered in the journals of the period, and it is not easy to believe that an impromptu speech should be so correct and forcible. Had it been studied beforehand? We are told that Beckford was very deficient in the external graces of manner and expression, but judging from other speeches ascribed to him, in the House of Commons and elsewhere he was certainly able to express himself both with propriety and force. He undoubted possessed a sound understanding and extensive knowledge of British politics, especially those relating to trade and commerce; nor was he chargeable with inconsistency of conduct. His manners generally were not agreeable, but this might arise not from sourness of temper, but from an ardent, impetuous turn of mind, which he was apt to indulge to excess. His voice was harsh, and not always distinct; his action while speaking awkward and ungraceful; on which account neither his private conversation nor public declamation could be listened to with pleasure. In the senate he was often ridiculed, and raised laughter by his singularity. At times, too, his auditors grew drowsy, left their seats, but this might be more from his habitual want of care as to the language employed, than from real defects of reasoning. In general, although not eloquent, seldom spoke without imparting information on the matters he dealt with. As a magistrate he was strict, but not unduly severe, and it was his invariable practice never to allow any criminal placed before him to sign a confession, on the ground that doing so was barbarous and tyrannical. He had become immensely rich by the middle of life, and his independence could not shaken by any of the ordinary temptations. As a politician, he was in constant opposition to the Government, and his friends thought from judgment rather than pique. In Parliament his ungr???iable zeal might sometimes lead him dogmatize on themes beyond his grasp, but his intentions were admitted to be upright. He was not a constant resident in England, but frequently visited Holland, and occasionally his West Indian estates. 

     As to his domestic life or habits little is remembered; but in 1756 he married the widow of Mr. Francis Marsh, by whom he had at least one son, born in 1760. In May, 1770, the first stone of the present gaol of Newgate was laid by him, when, after the usual ceremonies, conducted with great pomp, a treat was given to the workmen at his expense; indeed he was never wanting in pecuniary liberality. He was always ready to subscribe freely to national charities, and his private acts of benevolence were numerous. An abundant fortune gave him the power of administering aid to no common extent. Early in his long life, about 1755, his noble mansion at Fonthill was completely destroyed by fire, but he was well able to bear the loss. It was soon rebuilt with increased splendour, and when in the decline of his days, partial blindness, and growing bodily feebleness made comparative retirement indispensable, it was to this favourite residence that he repaired, where he perhaps, found more real comfort than had ever known in the busier periods of his existence. He expired from natural decay during the year of his second Mayoralty, in 177O, having then probably arrived at the age of seventy-two. A West Indian by birth, he seems to have grown old prematurely, for we now think men in their prime at three score, and frequently choose septuagenarians for the highest and most responsible offices. Thus we have at present a Lord Chancellor of seventy-four. 

     Beckford was a City idol for a season, and is commemorated by several public statues, that at Ironmongers’ Hall being the best. The judgment of Prince Posterity is not always in accordance with that of a man’s friends, companions, or followers. When the fever of temporary interests and feelings has subsided, and the magnifying glass of prejudice has lost its powers, our estimate of public characters strangely changed, and hence the City giant of 1769 becomes a mere dwarf in 1865. The trumpet of fame is of a very uncertain sound; thunder-loud at one moment, small as that of a child's whistle the next. 

ALEPH.