“A NEW SONG, TO THE TUNE OF ‘LET THE TOAST PASS.’
“To Fox and to Freedom we give our support,
Every Englishman feels it his duty,
When their cause is attack’d by the pow’r of the Court,
And defended by Virtue and Beauty.”
The turn of affairs which placed Fox in a majority over Sir Cecil Wray, who for some time was in advance of the Whig chief, is summed up by Rowlandson, amongst other caricaturists, as “The Case is altered” (April 29, 1784). The election had nearly another three weeks to run, but already the satirists were forecasting the result. Fox, be it remembered, had other resources in reserve, and, at the close of the poll, when Wray demanded a scrutiny, and the high bailiff illegally declined to make his return, he was seated for Kirkwall. In the caricaturist’s version, the election has already settled Wray’s chances, and Fox is magnanimously driving off his defeated opponent, and late dependent, to Lincoln: the ministerial candidate is travelling, “without drums or trumpets,” smuggled away from the exciting platform of the hustings, in the “Lincolnshire caravan for paupers;” he is buried in self-contemplation,—“I always was a poor dog, but now I am worse than ever.” The generous Fox, charioteering his renegade protégé, is volunteering, “I will drive you to Lincoln, where you may superintend the small beer and brickdust.” Lord Hood’s majority was safe at the head of the poll,—for no reason which history has made manifest; he is pictured as suddenly surprising the degrading pauper-conveyance, and, in compassion for his late colleague, is exclaiming, much moved at these reverses, “Alas, poor Wray!”
MAN HAS HIS HOBBY-HORSE—FOX AND THE DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE.
The doings of the Duchess of Devonshire, her sister, Lady Duncannon, and their fair following of female canvassers are pictorially treated by the caricaturist in his version of “The Procession to the Hustings after a Successful Canvass,” in which a select group of outlying voters, secured after much exertion, are seen conducted in triumph, and with “rough music,” to the polling-place. The circumstance that, chiefly owing to the opportune assistance of the Duchess, Fox was placed second on the poll was commemorated in “Every Man has his Hobby-horse.” Fox may truly be said to have been carried into the House of Commons by his fair coadjutor.
THE PROCESSION TO THE HUSTINGS AFTER A SUCCESSFUL CANVASS. BY T. ROWLANDSON.
“Come, haste to the Hustings, all honest Electors,
No menace, no brib’ry shall keep us away:
Of Freedom and Fox be for ever protectors,
We scorn to desert them, like Sir Cecil Wray.
“Then come, ev’ry free, ev’ry generous soul,
That loves a fine girl and a fine flowing bowl,
Come here in a body, and all of you poll
’Gainst Sir Cecil Wray.
“For had he to women been ever a friend,
Nor by taxing them tried our old taxes to mend,
Yet so stingy he is, that none can contend
For Sir Cecil Wray.”
[Page 282.
The fact that Wray—who, as a double “Renegado,” shortly rejoined the Whigs—appears to have gained but scant sympathy, was defeated and done for, is turned to satirical account in a travestied view of Fox, North, and the Duchess—the latter wearing a foxtail in her hat—“For the Benefit of the Champion.—A Catch, to be performed at the New Theatre, Covent Garden. For admission apply to the Duchess. N.B.—Gratis to those who wear large tails;” the lady is pointing to a headstone put up in memory of “Poor Cecil Wray, Dead and turned to Clay.”
| Duchess of Devonshire. | Charles James Fox. | Lord North. |
FOR THE BENEFIT OF THE CHAMPION—A CATCH. DEFEAT OF THE MINISTERIAL CANDIDATE, SIR CECIL WRAY, WESTMINSTER ELECTION. 1784. BY T. ROWLANDSON.
“Oh! help Judas, lest he fall into the Pitt of Ingratitude!!!
“The prayers of all bad Christians, Heathens, Infidels, and Devil’s Agents, are most earnestly requested for their dear friend Judas Iscariot, Knight of the back-stairs, lying at the period of political dissolution, having received a dreadful wound from the exertions of the lovers of liberty and the constitution, in the poll of the last ten days at the Hustings, nigh unto the Place of Cabbages.”
The fate of Wray, with Fox reinstated in his seat for Westminster, and the concluding election scenes at Covent Garden are figured in “The Westminster Deserter Drumm’d out of the Regiment.” Sam House, with his perfectly bald head, and dressed in the clean and natty nankeen jacket and trousers, his invariable wear summer and winter, is drumming Wray off the stage: “May all Deserters feel Public Resentment”—is the sentiment of both the indignant Chelsea veterans and buxom maid-servants to whom Wray’s projects had given mortal offence. “The Man of the People” is planting the standard of Liberty and Britannia, and acknowledging his gratitude to his supporters with simple fervour—“Friends and fellow-citizens, I cannot find words to express my feelings to you on the victory.”
Finally, as an apotheosis of the fair champion who had contributed most of all to the success and glory of the triumph over the Court, Rowlandson etched the allegorical picture of “Liberty and Fame introducing Female Patriotism to Britannia.”
At the close of the poll, Fox was 235 votes ahead of Wray, but, as related, the high bailiff, Corbett, acting partially, refused to return him on the plea that a scrutiny had been demanded; Fox was also a candidate for Kirkwall, so that, in case of defeat at Westminster he might still have a seat.
At the end of the election there was an immense crowd collected for the chairing of Fox. A classic car was prepared, an improvement on the perilous glory of being hoisted on the shoulders of excited chairmen, or, worse still, lifted on those of volunteers—intoxicated alike with enthusiasm and drinking toasts. The Whig chief mounted his triumphal chariot; a multitudinous procession following, closed by the state-carriages of the Duchesses of Portland and Devonshire, drawn by six horses each. Fox descended from the car at Devonshire House, where was erected a temporary scaffolding, on which was raised a bevy of notabilities, including the Prince of Wales, with the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire, to whose exertions Fox owed a debt of gratitude. A commemorative dinner was given at Willis’s Rooms, where Fox made a glowing speech on the subject of the election. The Prince of Wales, after attending the king at a review at Ascot, rode up St. James’s Street in his uniform, and was received with acclamations, in acknowledgment of his partisanship for the Whig chief, whose favours he wore,—and ended his day of triumph by dining at Devonshire House, where he appeared wearing Fox’s colours (the Washington uniform), and with a laurel branch in token of victory.
| Sir Cecil Wray. | Sam House. | Charles James Fox. |
THE WESTMINSTER DESERTER DRUMMED OUT OF THE REGIMENT. DEFEAT OF SIR CECIL WRAY. HUSTINGS, COVENT GARDEN, WESTMINSTER ELECTION. 1784. BY T. ROWLANDSON.
“Sir Cecil, be aisy, I won’t be unshivil
Now the Man of the Paple is chose in your stead;
From swate Covent Garden you’re flung to the Divil,
By Jabers, Sir Cecil, you’ve bodder’d your head.
“To be sure, much avail to you all your fine spaiches,
’Tis nought but palaver, my honey, my dear,
While all Charley’s voters stick to him like laiches,
A friend to our liberties and our small beer.
“The Irish Chairmen to Sir Cecil Wray.”
[Page 284.
LIBERTY AND FAME INTRODUCING FEMALE PATRIOTISM (DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE) TO BRITANNIA. 1784. BY T. ROWLANDSON.
“She smiles,
Infused with a Fortitude from Heaven.”—Shakespeare, The Tempest.
“Let envy rail and disappointment rage,
Still Fox shall prove the wonder of the age!
“Triumph and Fame shall every step attend
His King’s best subject and his country’s friend!”
[Page 285.
The party rejoicings and festivities at the conclusion of this election are felicitously related by Wraxall, who enjoyed the advantages of himself participating in the scenes he pictures. “Still the Whigs were not to be disappointed of their ovation. The exultation of those gay times forms a strange contrast to the grim monotony of our own. Fox, after being chaired in great pomp through the streets, was finally carried into the court-yard of Carlton House. The Prince’s plume was on his banners in acknowledgment of princely partisanship. A banner, inscribed ‘Sacred to Female Patriotism,’ recorded the services of the Duchess. The carriages of the Dukes of Devonshire and Portland, each drawn by six horses, moved in procession, and Fox’s own carriage was a pile of rejoicing Whiggism. On its boxes and traces, and where they could, sat Colonel North, afterwards Lord Guilford; Adam, who but a few years before wounded the patriot in a duel; and a whole cluster of political friends, followers, and expectants. The prince came to the balustrade before the house[64] to cheer him, with a crowd of fashionable people. Fox finished the triumph by an harangue to the mob, and they in return finished by a riot, an illumination, and breaking Lord Temple’s windows.
“But the festivities were scarcely begun. The prince threw open his showy apartments to the nobility, and gave them a brilliant fête in the gardens, which happened to be at its height just when the king was passing through St. James’s Park in state to open the new parliament. The rival interests were within a brick wall of each other, and their spirit could not have been more strangely contrasted than in their occupations. But nights and days to those graceful pursuers of pleasure and politics alike knew no intermission. On that very evening the celebrated beautiful and witty Mrs. Crewe gave a brilliant rout, in which ‘blue and buff’ were the universal costume of both sexes; the buff and blue were the uniform of Washington and his troops, and imprudently adopted by Fox to declare his hostility to the Government. The prince himself appeared in the party colours. At supper, he toasted the fair giver of the feast in the words ‘True Blue and Mrs. Crewe.’ The lady, not unskilfully, and with measureless applause, returned it by another, ‘True Blue and all of you.’”
With the enforced termination of the polling at the fortieth day, arrived the demand of Wray for a scrutiny, and the high bailiff’s unjustifiable attitude, for which he subsequently suffered severely, of declining to make a return, compelled Fox to look elsewhere for a seat, or find no place in the coming parliament, where, as Walpole said, could Fox have stood for every seat in the kingdom he would have represented the entire return in his own person, such was his influence and popularity. “The Departure,” (May 18, 1784), the day succeeding the close of the poll, shows Fox leaving behind him the palatial abode of his warm supporter, the Prince of Wales, and taking leave of his delectable champions, the Duchess of Devonshire and her sister, the fair Lady Duncannon, en route for “Coventry” or “Out-in-the-cold-shire.” Fox is observing on his retreat:—
“If that a scrutiny at last takes place,
I can’t tell how ’twill be, and please your Grace!”
Fox’s early ally, Burke, equipped as an outrider, is prepared to drive his friend away from the scene of his triumphs; under Edmund’s arm is a “plan of economy,” suggestive of necessary retrenchments in the Whig camp.
DEFEAT OF THE HIGH AND MIGHTY BALISSIMO CORBETTINO AND HIS FAMED CECILIAN FORCES, ON THE PLAINS OF ST. MARTIN, ON THURSDAY, THE 3RD DAY OF FEBRUARY, 1785, BY THE CHAMPION OF THE PEOPLE AND HIS CHOSEN BAND.
[Page 287.
Among the tactics of the Ministerialists may be reckoned the ominous “scrutiny,” which was threatened directly Fox’s votes began to outnumber those in favour of his rival, Wray. On Fox’s success this intention was carried out, the returning officer acting partially in order to connive at the manœuvre; a scrutiny being notoriously a tedious, lengthy, and costly affair, and hence more vexations to Fox than to the combined forces of his opponents. This circumstance is illustrated by the caricaturist, nearly a twelvemonth later; when the excitement of the protracted contest had cooled down, Fox secured another victory over his adversaries, which is commemorated in Rowlandson’s version of the affair (March 7, 1785), entitled:—
“Defeat of the high and mighty Balissimo Corbettino and his famed Cecilian forces, on the plains of St. Martin, on Thursday, the 3rd day of February, 1785, by the Champion of the People and his chosen band, after a smart skirmish, which lasted a considerable time, in which many men were lost on both sides. But their great ally at length losing ground, desertions took place, and notwithstanding their vast superiority in numbers and weight of metal at the first onset, this increased apace, altho’ often rallied by the ablest man in command, till at length the forces gave way in all quarters, and they were totally overthrown. This print is dedicated to the Electors of the City and Liberty of Westminster, who have so nobly stood forth and supported their champion upon this trying occasion, by an Independent Elector.”
Rowlandson has pictured the rival combatants at the head of their learned forces. Fox’s lawyers are triumphant, and armed with such legal weapons as “Eloquence,” “Truth,” “Perseverance,” and “Law;” the Whig chief, in person, is dealing vengeance upon the disconcerted figures of his antagonists, Wray and Corbett. Fox had successfully prosecuted his action and recovered heavy damages against the bailiff, who, as a courtier, had made himself the tool of the Ministerialists. Fox is defended by his buckler, “Majority 38;” he is wielding the keen sword of “Justice;” a laurel crown is placed on the chieftain’s brow by a celestial messenger, who is charged with the decision of the Law Court—“It is ordered that Thomas Corbett, Esq., do immediately return.” Fox is declaring:—
“The wrath of my indignation is kindled, and I will pursue them with a mighty hand and outstretched arm until justice is done to those who have so nobly supported me.”
Sir Cecil Wray’s defence of “Ingratitude” is a sorry shield for the protection of himself or of his fallen ally; his sword is broken; in despair he cries, “My knees wax feeble, and I sink beneath the weight of my own apostasy.” The high bailiff is cast down; he confesses, “My conscience is now at peace.” Another supporter of the returning officer is exclaiming, “Help, help! our chief is fallen. O conscience, support me!” Corbett’s lawyers have turned their abashed backs on their client and his cause: “Nor law, nor conscience, nor the aid of potent Ministers, can e’er support the contest ’gainst such a chief!” “Our support is gone, and we are fallen into a Pitt; yea, even into a deep Pitt!”—the premier having been unable to protect the guilty against the consequences of their act.
CHAPTER XI.
REMARKABLE ELECTIONS AND POLITICAL MEETINGS, 1788 TO 1807.
We have seen Admiral Lord Hood’s energetic canvass at the great Westminster election, when, with the powerful assistance of the Court, he fought the Whigs, but failed to hinder Fox’s election. In spite of the victory gained in 1784 by their opponents, four years later the ministerialists and the “king’s friends” were again forced into a fresh contest on the same field, and more ignominiously defeated; the popular Lord Hood, their chosen champion, having in July, 1788, been appointed to a seat at the Admiralty Board, as a recognition of his services to Government, a fresh election was necessary for the city of Westminster. The Whigs were still to the front, and Lord John Townshend came forward and canvassed in that interest, with such strong support from the Opposition that the ministers now experienced a more inglorious reverse, their candidate being unseated, although recourse was had to every expedient, lawful or otherwise, that could promote the return of Hood, the Government nominee. After the close of the poll, which showed Lord John Townshend with 6392 votes, to Lord Hood’s 5569, thus giving two Whig members for Westminster, Gillray exposed the corrupt practices of the Court agents in the caricature, published on August 14, 1788, entitled, “Election Troops Bringing in their Accounts to the Pay-Table.” The premier is seen behind the bars of the Treasury gates; the undisguised and direct applications of his quondam allies are so compromising that it is inexpedient to admit the claimants, or acknowledge an acquaintance with such disreputable connections; but a saving compromise is suggested. Pitt is made to plausibly protest, “I know nothing of you, my friends. Lord Hood pays all the expenses himself;” then, in a whisper, “Hush! go to the back-door in Great George Street, under the Rose.” Sir George Rose was Pitt’s secretary and factotum; he is chiefly seen in the contemporary satires as associated with what was called “back-stairs influence,” of which he may be accepted as chamberlain; his scene of operations was generally represented as the “back-door of the Treasury,” where he diplomatically carried out the stratagems of the premier—especially, as in the present instance—in the indirect recognition of secret services.
ELECTION TROOPS BRINGING THEIR ACCOUNTS TO THE PAY TABLE, WESTMINSTER. 1788.
BY JAMES GILLRAY.
Foremost in the rank of election troops is the modish Major Topham, a conspicuous personage in his day, who frequently appears in the caricatures of the time; his notoriety was due to the World, a society newspaper of the last century, of which the major was proprietor, editor, and fashionable gossip-monger. Topham has brought a copy of his organ to prove the active support he had lent the Government during the Westminster contest, and is the first to present his bill “for puffs and squibs, and for abusing the Opposition.”
AN INDEPENDENT ELECTOR.
A ragged newsboy from the Star has also brought his journal and a claim for payment “for changing sides, for hiring ballad-singers, and Grub Street writers.” As usual, some scenes of a desperate character had marked the election, and three downright bullies, giant troopers of the Guards, with ensanguined bayonets as evidence of their late employment, demand pay “for the attack in Bow Street;” a publican brings in a reckoning “for eating and drinking for jackass boys;” ballad-singers have come to claim “five shillings a day” for their professional services; a cobbler, with Hood’s cockade, presents a modest bill “for voting three times” as “an independent elector;” a clothesman of the Hebrew persuasion is clamouring for money “for perjury, and procuring Jew voters;” and a body of Hood’s sailors, armed with formidable cudgels, are come for payment “for kicking up a row,”—as in the election of 1784, Hood’s boisterous sailors were brought up to the hustings to support their admiral, and were particularly violent and reckless in their zeal for the cause, intimidating those voters who were recognized as favouring the opposite party, and forcibly keeping them away from the polling booth. These jolly Jack Tars, with perfect singleness of mind, and oblivious of nice distinctions which they did not understand, were filled to overflowing with explosive loyalty for the king, and fealty for their admiral; but on this occasion the sailors were beaten by the Irish chairmen with hearty goodwill, and, with their patron, Lord Hood, experienced a defeat.
In 1790, it is consolatory to find that the gallant Lord Hood was again returned for Westminster; Fox heading the poll with 3516 votes; Hood, as a good second, with 3217: on this occasion the Whigs lost a seat, for John Horne Tooke, although so prominent a figure, failed to repeat the success of Lord John Townshend, 1679 votes were polled for the “Parson of Brentford,” otherwise John Horne Tooke, the celebrated philologist.
Curious anomalies were witnessed under the old boroughmongering system, anterior to the sweeping measure of reform. Helston, in Cornwall, was a typical case. The elective franchise was formerly invested in the corporation, which consisted of the mayor, who was the returning officer, eleven aldermen, and twenty-five common council-men, thirty-six in all. The old charter of Elizabeth was confirmed by Charles I., and, according to common report, there survived but one elector under this charter in 1790, to whose lot accordingly fell the unusual distinction of nominating two representatives on his own account.
The family interest of the Osbornes (Duke of Leeds) proved so paramount as to here prevent any hope of successfully contesting against their power.
It is interesting to find that a certain grace was lent to the generally discordant elements of electioneering by the zealous participation of Beauty in the canvassing department, where the seductive wiles of female charms and persuasions were relied upon, it is understood, with reason.
“——a faithful few
Worth more than all a Sultan’s retinue.
They point the path, the missing phrase supply,
Oft prompt a name, and hint with hand or eye,
Back each bold pledge, the fervid speech admire,
And still add fuel to their leader’s fire.”
(J. Stirling, The Election.)
PROOF OF THE REFINED FEELINGS OF AN AMIABLE CHARACTER, LATELY A CANDIDATE FOR A CERTAIN ANCIENT CITY. BY JAMES GILLRAY.
[Page 293.
The assistance of the fair sex was much relied upon for soliciting and securing votes; but at such turbulent times, when licence predominated, the electioneering Circes must have been prepared for brusque exchanges of pleasantry, though hardly for such encounters as the one preserved in Gillray’s “Proof of the Refined Feelings of an Amiable Character, lately a Candidate for a Certain Ancient City.”
Some obscurity surrounds the incident represented; obviously the caricature was destined for electioneering purposes, but the positive history cannot he traced. It is assumed that the three circumstances of the candidate being “an eccentric,” a sportsman, and a representative of a cathedral city point to Sir Charles Turner (created a baronet by the Marquis of Rockingham in 1782), who represented York from 1768 to 1783. This gentleman always dressed as a sportsman, wearing a green coat, “tally-ho” buttons, with top-boots, etc., upon all occasions; he was described by Coombe (Royal Register) as the “Marplot” of his own party, “and in his parliamentary capacity demands the pity of his friends, the contempt of the wise, and makes himself a laughing stock for the crowd.” On the discussion of Pitt’s motion for parliamentary reform, May 7, 1782, Sir Charles Turner by his blunt originality attracted more attention than either the mover or seconder; he declared—
“that in his opinion the House of Commons might be justly considered as a parcel of thieves, who, having stolen an estate, were apprehensive of allowing any person to see their title deeds, from the fear of again losing it by such an inspection.”
The personage depicted by Gillray is flourishing his whip “Pro bono Patriæ,” and forcibly demonstrating his aversion to rival canvassers of the gentle sex, much to the consternation of the ecclesiastical hierarchy and gownsmen, while the rough townsmen are cheering their eccentric candidate, and promising to support him.
It is to Gillray that we owe the version embodying the glorification of autocratic boroughmongering as “The Pacific Entrance of Earl Wolf into Blackhaven,” January, 1792. Before Lord Grey’s Reform Bill altered the constituencies, in the sordid old days of corrupt influence, when the representative system of electing parliaments was purely theoretical, a certain number of territorial magnates apportioned about half the constituencies between them; of this, the “upper order,” or aristocratic patrons, trafficked in the seats in exchange for “honours” for themselves, or lent their boroughs to support ministerial influence in return for places and pensions, or offices—sinecures for choice—in which to provide for their less opulent relations; thus in the old lists of place-holders, pensioners, and “ministerial patronage” may be traced the younger sons and cousins in several degrees, besides the names of those who have by marriage entered the families of the prime holders of “marketable ware,” otherwise parliamentary interest. When boroughmongering was a profession—a very highly paid one—and boroughs were farmed for sale, it might be expected that a less elevated class of adventurers would treat the question of buying and selling “seats” in parliament like any ordinary item of commerce, as was the fact; the markets fluctuated, thus we find Lord Chesterfield, whose authority is unquestionable, looking round for some venal borough to bring in that young hopeful to whom he addressed the famous “Letters,” thinking it a finishing part of a gentleman’s training to be in the House; the ex-ambassador communicated with an agent, proposing to pay “twenty-four hundred pounds for a seat,” presumably the price in Chesterfield’s younger days; but he found seats had risen to inordinate rates—up to five thousand pounds—owing to imported competition, chiefly rich factors returned home with fortunes from the East and West Indies. Bubb Dodington has set down in his “Diary” how he, the lordly proprietor of this said “marketable ware,” went about bargaining to bring in ministerial nominees for his five or six seats in exchange for places at the disposal of the administration; and instances might be multiplied to a tedious extent from the journals of the House containing the evidence of trafficking in boroughs and buying up voters, en gros et en détail, as disclosed on controverted elections.
This condition of affairs produced a mechanical majority as long as the prime minister in power could command wealth and influence sufficient to secure a larger number of seats than the opposition. It was in this direction that the famous electioneering genius, the Marquis of Wharton, spent a hundred thousand pounds in William III. and Queen Anne’s days; while Walpole manipulated such huge sums, thinly disguised as “Secret Service Money,” that, never wealthy enough to purchase all, and meeting occasional honest members, he was, at intervals, impeached for corruption in a House two-thirds venal, as it is alleged.
Walpole’s successors, who finally drove him from office, bought elections on even a more extended scale; the Pelhams were clever dissemblers and apt negotiators for this commodity; it was written of the Duke of Newcastle, by his antagonist, Lord Hervey, it is believed:—
“And since his estate at Elections he’ll spend,
And beggar himself without making a friend;
So while the extravagant fool has a sous,
As his brains I can’t fear, so his fortune I’ll use.”
Major Cartwright, the advocate of universal suffrage, who had the misfortune to live a trifle before the times were ripe enough for reform to be carried, addressed a petition to parliament in 1820, showing “that 97 Lords usurped 200 seats in the Commons House in violation of our Laws and Liberties;” while 90 wealthy commoners “for 102 vile sinks of corruption (pocket boroughs) brought in the House 137 members;” Ministerial patronage returning another twenty, thus giving, according to the petitioner’s statistics, “a total of 353 members corruptly or tyrannically imposed on the Commons in gross violation of the law, and to the palpable subversion of the constitution.” At that time the Earl of Lonsdale commanded eight seats, as did the Earl of Darlington. William Pitt, as already described, was seated in Parliament, 1781, by Lonsdale, then Sir James Lowther, who had been stigmatized by “Junius” as “The contemptuous tyrant of the North,” and who himself declared that he was in possession of the land, the fire, and the water of Whitehaven. When the youthful Pitt became premier, one of his first acts was to acknowledge his obligations to “the Wolf,” and Lowther was raised to the peerage as Earl Lonsdale. The “pacific entrance” of this plutocrat shows the docile “free and independent voters” of Whitehaven, driven by Lonsdale’s law agent, and lashed with thongs of “sham suits at law,” dragging the earl through the tumble-down streets of his town, every window being illuminated with candles in his honour. He exclaims, “Dear gentlemen, this is too much; now you really distress me!” Mobs of his miners are cheering vociferously, he having brought the townsmen to submission by suspending the working of his coal-mines. Fair canvassers, with complimentary inscriptions on their banners, head the triumphal procession:—
“The Blues are bound in adamantine chains
But freedom round each ‘Yellow’ mansion reigns!”
Before the parliamentary dissolution of 1796, the country was in an agitated state, for distress was prevalent among the poorer classes, the expenses of the continental wars were impoverishing the country, and there was a general outcry for peace; bread riots were common at the time, and the price of provisions in general was exceptionally high; political agitators were taking advantage of these circumstances to fulminate against the king and his ministers; while the various societies, called “seditious” by the Tories in office, received encouragement from the Whig party, whose prospects of succeeding to power were not encouraging. A meeting of an enthusiastic nature, largely attended, had been held in St. George’s Fields, the scene of the former riots, to petition for annual parliaments, and for universal suffrage, theories which at that time were regarded hopefully, and which would, it was anticipated, redress existing grievances. In the autumn of 1795, meetings were held at Copenhagen Fields, where an immense multitude assembled to sign addresses and remonstrances on the state of the nation. The immediate consequences of the inflammatory orations pronounced to the people on this occasion was that, on the opening of the final session of the parliament which had assembled in 1790, the king, on his way to the Peers to open the House in state, was assailed by vociferous cries of “Give us peace and bread!” “No war!” “No king!” “Down with him! down with George!” Before the House of Peers was reached, an attack was made on the royal carriage, stones were thrown, and one passed through the window. The riot on this occasion was made the pretext for the ministry to bring forward new bills for the defence of the king’s person, and to attempt further infringements on the liberty of the subject by interfering with the right of public meetings.
ENTRANCE OF EARL WOLF (LORD LONSDALE) INTO BLACKHAVEN. 1792. BY JAMES GILLRAY.
[Page 296.
“E’en by the elements his power confessed,
Of mines and boroughs Lonsdale stands possessed;
And one sad servitude alike denotes
The slaves that labour and the slave that votes.”
(Rolliad.)
The political clubs renewed their clamours for a more extended system of representation freed from corruption, and protested against Pitt’s new enactments; the London Corresponding Society called another public meeting, at which the premier is said to have shown symptoms of alarm. Gillray’s engraving of a meeting of “Patriotic Citizens at Copenhagen House,” November 16, 1795, satirizes the order of agitators and their disciples as the dregs of the people, which he represents them to be. This demonstration, which was largely attended, was held to protest against the “Seditions Bill” for the protection of the king’s person, for which, it was argued, ample provisions were already legalized. Petitions to both Houses were prepared, and remonstrances numerously signed.
This situation is embodied in the picture of the assembly. The orator, Thelwall, is holding forth to an audience which is more picturesque than distinguished. Platforms are arranged at intervals as rostrums for the speakers, at one of which a butcher is enlarging on “The Rights of Citizens.” The proprietress of a halfpenny gaming-table has labelled it, “Equality and no Sedition Bill.” An emissary of Thelwall’s is offering the remonstrance to sweep-boys for signature; and the autographs attached thereto, though notorious, are hardly such as to command the respect of parliament—“Jack Cade, Wat Tyler, Jack Straw, etc.”
After the elections of 1784 parliament was entirely in the control of Pitt. It met, wrote Horace Walpole, “as quietly as a Quarter Session,” the opposition seemed quelled, or driven to despair.
The meeting at Copenhagen House failed to accomplish its purpose, and further protests were entered against the Seditions Bill “for the better protection of the king’s person,” which was carried in the House by large majorities; this repressive measure provided that no gathering exceeding fifty persons should take place, even in a private house, without previous information had been laid before a magistrate, who might attend, and, if he saw cause, order the meeting to disperse, while those who resisted would be guilty of felony. In the face of such unconstitutional interference, fresh hostility sprang up throughout the land; and there being anticipations of an appeal to the country, the opposition endeavoured to present a bold front before the constituencies in view of that event; one of these meetings was summoned by the Sheriff of Middlesex, inviting the freeholders to assemble at the Mermaid, Hackney; this gathering has been commemorated by Gillray. The object of the meeting was to obtain a repeal of the obnoxious Seditions Bill, which, as the artist shows, the Whig member, George Byng, is vigorously denouncing from the platform; it was at the same time proposed to prepare an “Address to the King,” and Mr. Mainwaring, the ministerial representative, is, with Jesuitical expression, deprecating hostility both to the Government and to their oppressive legislation, Fox is holding the hat of his oratorical disciple, Byng. It was on this occasion that the sturdy Duke of Norfolk, who raised the royal ire by proposing as a toast in a public assembly, “The Majesty of the People,” took occasion to warn those who valued the liberty of the subject that they must not be misled by the specious titles of the bill.
MEETING OF PATRIOTIC CITIZENS AT COPENHAGEN HOUSE, 1795. SPEAKERS: THELWALL, GALE JONES, HODSON, AND JOHN BINNS. BY JAMES GILLRAY.
“I tell you, Citizens, we mean to new dress the Constitution, and turn it, and set a new Nap upon it.”
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AT HACKNEY MEETING—FOX, BYNG, AND MAINWARING. BY JAMES GILLRAY.
“I daresay,” he observed, “if the High Priest of the Spanish Inquisition was to come among us to introduce his system of inquisition here, he would call it an act for the better support and protection of religion; but we have understandings, and are not to be deceived in this way.”
Mainwaring stated in the House that the meeting had been most respectably attended, and that the requisition had been signed by three dukes, one marquis, two earls, and several freeholders.
As we have seen, in describing the elections of 1784, the results of which ended for a while all the prospects of the Whigs, William Pitt was called to office in the face of an unmanageable opposition, and almost in contravention of the voice of parliament; the youthful premier’s bold resort to dissolution, with his energetic election tactics, disembarrassed him of the troublesome majority, and placed at his disposal a perfectly docile House. The progress of our relations with France, and many unpopular and stringent measures, like the Seditions Bill, had revived antagonism, and every fresh legislation which encroached on the rights of the people weakened the Government influence. Pitt, anticipating the struggle, boldly resorted to his old policy, and the intention of dissolving parliament was announced in the speech from the throne. Gillray, whose admirable caricatures illustrate the leading political events from 1782 to 1810, has epitomized the situation as “The Dissolution, or the Alchymist Procuring an Ætherial Representation,” May 21, 1796. Pitt is seated on the model of his new barracks; the transmutation is carried out from the premier’s recipe, “Antidotus Republica;” Treasury coals, i.e. golden pieces, feed the furnace; the breeze is raised by the Crown as a bellows; the old House of Commons, seen in the alembic, shows a few tenants, such as Fox and Sheridan, left on the opposition benches, but all is rapidly dissolving into a new chamber, where the alchemist is enthroned as “Perpetual Dictator,” “Magna Charta” and “Parliamentary Rights” become his foot-stools, and adulation of the most slavish order is offered up by the members of the newly constituted and subservient Commons.
Maidstone, for which Benjamin D’Israeli took his seat in 1837, has been the scene of many severe and exceptionally costly contests. At the general election, 1796, the defeated candidate, Christopher Hull, is reported to have polled the greatest number of single votes ever tendered for that constituency, he having expended three thousand pounds in about seven hours. This heavy outlay proved fruitless, as Mr. Hull stood last on the list; but attempting to make a merit of this liberal use of money, the reputation of which he hoped might serve for a future occasion, the incipient “electioneerer” was assured by his friends “he must start on fresh grounds, as the present would be considered as nothing more than electioneering experience.”
THE DISSOLUTION; OR, THE ALCHYMIST PRODUCING AN ÆTHERIAL REPRESENTATION. WILLIAM PITT DISSOLVING THE HOUSE OF COMMONS. 1796. BY JAMES GILLRAY.
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THE HUSTINGS—COVENT GARDEN. 1796. BY JAMES GILLRAY.
Vox Populi.—“We’ll have a mug.”—Mayor of Garratt.
Charles James Fox.—Loq. “Ever guardian of your most sacred rights, I have opposed the ‘Pewter Pot Bill!’”
The general election of 1796 was less fruitful in incidents than its predecessor in 1790. The celebrated philologist, John Horne Tooke, endeavoured to gain the second seat, as the colleague of the great Whig chief. On this occasion “the Brentford parson” secured, though unsuccessful, a larger number of votes; Fox was returned at the head of the poll, and Sir A. Gardner was second. Gillray has left a characteristic likeness of the Whig chief, very “spick and span,” deferentially bowing from “The Hustings,” in acknowledgment of the ribald, if popular, reception his admirers are according their old “true blue” member for Westminster. Fox is pressing to his heart, in parody of another measure, the “Pewter Pot Bill.” “Ever guardian of your most sacred rights, I have opposed the Pewter Pot Bill.” His audience is filled with enthusiasm. As an allusion to Fox’s supposed sympathies with events then proceeding in France—the pot-boy of “The Tree of Liberty,” Petty France, is offering a foaming measure to the well-tried patriot and popular representative.
THE FRIEND OF HUMANITY AND THE KNIFE-GRINDER.
The well-known “Friend of Humanity and the Knife-Grinder,” one of the most spirited poetical squibs, which first appeared in the Anti-Jacobin, was reprinted as a broadside for electioneering purposes, with a no less spirited plate, by Gillray, as a heading; and dedicated “To the Independent Electors of the Borough of Southwark,” of which constituency Tierney—whose person was figured as “the Friend of Humanity”—was the representative in parliament. Canning’s admirable parody was founded upon Southey’s poem, “The Widow,” and written in English sapphics, in imitation of the original.