A History of Parliamentary Elections and Electioneering in the Old Days / Showing the State of Political Parties and Party Warfare at the Hustings and in the House of Commons from the Stuarts to Queen Victoria

by Joseph Grego

“FRIEND OF HUMANITY.

“I give thee sixpence! I will see thee damn’d first!—
Wretch! whom no sense of wrongs can rouse to vengeance!—
Sordid, unfeeling, reprobate, degraded,
Spiritless outcast!”

[Kicks the Knife-grinder, overturns his wheel, and exit in a
transport of republican enthusiasm and universal philanthropy.

It was in the session of 1797 that Mr. Grey first moved “for leave to bring in a bill to reform the representation of the country.” The motion, seconded by Erskine, was debated until three o’clock in the morning—an exceptional sitting in those days—when it was rejected by a Government majority of fifty-eight votes. Although the system of representation was notoriously corrupt, at least half the seats being in the patronage of interested persons, it was thirty-four years before Earl Grey’s measure for reform could be carried, and then only under extraordinary circumstances. After Grey’s earlier defeat, it was felt that in a House of Commons completely submissive to the ministerial dictates, and which resisted amendment, the opposition leaders could make no impression, and they accordingly announced their intention for the present of taking no further part in its proceedings; the voice of Fox was scarcely heard in the House till the century closed.

Meanwhile, after the secession of the Whig party from the debates, the agitation throughout the country increased, political societies became more active, and frequent meetings were held to discuss the necessity for parliamentary reform. One of the most remarkable of these was held under the auspices of Bertie Greathead, the owner of “Guy’s Cliff,” near Warwick; a medal commemorative of this gathering and its object, reform, was struck for the occasion. These medals were a popular method of spreading political opinions. The patriotic reform medal was parodied by another of a loyal nature, representing the devil suspending three halters over the heads of the demagogues, who are mounted in “a condemned cart;” on the one side are shown the applauding “wrong-heads,” while a large assembly of “right-heads” express their contempt for the proceedings.

Wilkes.

Abbé Siéyès.

Horne Tooke.

C. J. Fox.

William Pitt.

Lord Holland.

Earl of Chatham.

TWO PAIR OF PORTRAITS. PRESENTED TO ALL THE UNBIASED ELECTORS OF GREAT BRITAIN. 1798. BY JAMES GILLRAY.

[Page 305.

LOYAL MEDAL. 1797.

A parody of the patriotic medal struck in commemoration of the Reform meeting held at Greathead’s, Guy’s Cliff, Warwick.

The Tories exulted over the secession of “the party,” and numerous caricatures appeared, imputing all sorts of offences to the Whigs; and one version represented Fox as “Phaeton” involving the Whig Club in his destruction. We have noticed the candidature of Horne Tooke for Westminster; ever since his prominence upon the occasion of Wilkes’s return for Middlesex in 1768, the “Brentford Parson” had striven to obtain a seat in parliament. He was in 1798 one of the most conspicuous members of the reform associations. Few were his match in ready eloquence, his pen was ever active, and his writings to the purpose. At an earlier stage of his career, a pamphlet appeared, written, it was alleged, by his hand, contrasting the two Pitts with the two Foxes as a pair of portraits; the comparison being in favour of the former. Advantage was taken of this circumstance to bring into discredit the confederation of Horne Tooke (who held more democratic views) with Fox for the advancement of the reform cause. James Gillray designed for the Anti-Jacobin Review his own satirical version of “Two Pair of Portraits, presented to all the unbiased Electors of Great Britain, by John Horne Tooke,” December 1, 1798. The eminent philologer is represented as a portrait-painter, seated before his easel, on which appear the two original likenesses of the Whig and Tory chiefs, Pitt resting on the pedestal of “Truth,” and Fox on that of “Deceit.” The presentment of Lord Holland with the plunder of “unaccounted millions” so frequently quoted, is placed beside the portrait of the patriotic Earl of Chatham, dowered with the “Rewards of a Grateful Nation.” Horne Tooke, who has in his pocket, “Sketches of Patriotic Views, a pension, a mouth-stopper, a place,” is presumed to be retouching his unflattering and sinister portrait of the Whig chief, while demanding of the electors of Great Britain, which two of them will you choose to hang in your Cabinets, the Pitts or the Foxes? “Where, on your conscience, should the other two be hanged?” Allusions to various periods of the limner’s life and principles appear round the studio—the windmill at Wimbledon (where Tooke resided), the parsonage at Brentford, the bust of Machiavel, the shadow or “silhouette” of the Abbé Siéyès; the picture of his old friend Wilkes, in his aldermanic gown as the prosperous and handsomely remunerated city chamberlain, ci-devant Wilkes and Liberty; “The effect in this picture to be copied as exact as possible;” “A London Corresponding Society, i.e. a Sketch for an English Directory;” with a folio of “Studies from French masters, Robespierre, Tallien, Marat,” together with the prospectus for a new work, “The Art of Political Painting, extracted from the works of the most celebrated Jacobin professors.”

The Shakespeare Tavern, celebrated as the head-quarters of the Whig party during Fox’s candidature for Westminster, was the scene of a popular ovation on the twentieth anniversary of the Whig chief’s election for that important constituency; the event was celebrated by a public dinner, October 10, 1800. Fox had so long absented himself from Parliament, feeling, as he declared, “his time of action was over when those principles were extinguished on which he acted,” that his reappearance excited the greatest enthusiasm amongst his partisans, who were anxious both to hear his sentiments on the political outlook, and to demonstrate their unabated attachment to the “Man of the People,” who preferred to seclude himself from public business and from the platform of his most brilliant oratorical triumphs, that he “might steadily adhere to those principles which had guided his past conduct.” Every room in the house was filled with company. In replying to the cordial reception of his health, Fox reminded his auditors that “During the twenty years I have represented you in Parliament I have adhered to the principles on which the Revolution of 1688 was founded, and what have been known as the old Whig principles of England;” and recalled that his first connection with his constituents occurred “during the calamitous war with America;” he then alluded to his absence from Parliament, extended to three years, and thus eloquently concluded: “I shall ever maintain that the basis of all parties is justice—that the basis of all constitutions is the sovereignty of the people—that from the people alone kings, parliaments, judges, and magistrates derive their authority.” Gillray has embodied this situation in his pictorial version of this most enthusiastic reception, ungenerously representing Fox as “The Worn-out Patriot; or, the Last Dying Speech of the Westminster Representative,” October 10, 1800. The great statesman is depicted as both mentally and physically in a state of decadence; Erskine is sustaining him with a bottle of brandy to stimulate his strength artificially, while Harvey Combe, in his robes as Lord Mayor, is lending his substantial support; a measure of Whitbread’s “entire” is also ready for the emergency. Among the guests are figured Sir J. Sinclair, and the gifted member for Southwark, Tierney. The speech the satirist has sarcastically introduced is a parody on that delivered by the Whig chief to the electors on the occasion:—

“Gentlemen, you see I am grown quite an old man in your service. Twenty years I’ve served you, and always upon the same principles. I rejoiced at the success of our enemies in the American War, and the war against the virtuous French has always met with my most determined opposition; but the infamous Ministry will not make peace with our enemies, and are determined to keep me out of their councils and out of place. Therefore, gentlemen, as their principles are quite different from mine, and as I am now too old to form myself according to their systems, my attendance in Parliament is useless, and, to say the truth, I feel that my season of action is past, and I must leave to younger men to act, for, alas! my failings and weaknesses will not let me now recognize what is for the best.”

THE WORN-OUT PATRIOT, OR THE LAST DYING SPEECH OF THE WESTMINSTER REPRESENTATIVE, ON THE ANNIVERSARY MEETING, HELD AT THE SHAKESPEARE TAVERN, OCTOBER 10, 1800. BY JAMES GILLRAY.

Pointed and pungent as is this version, it is on record that Fox’s mental activity was still most brilliant; indeed, to the extent of converting his consistent enemy, George III. The supposed “Worn-out Patriot” lived to form an administration in 1806 in conjunction with Lord Grenville, who made Fox’s accession to power a sine quâ non. He filled the office of Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs at perhaps the most delicate and critical period of our history, when Napoleon entertained designs against England; and on the death of the patriotic statesman, the king declared “he had never known the duties of that office so efficiently discharged for the honour of the country.”

“Who,” remarked a contemporary, “in reviewing Fox’s noble adherence to the cause of Liberty, as it affected the American nation, and weighing the wisdom of his forewarnings of the fatal consequences of the American War, but must admire the prophetic spirit with which he foretold all the direful events which resulted both to the Mother Country and her colonies from that unnatural fratricidal war.”

The first Parliament after the Union with Ireland met January 22, 1801, and was marked by the reappearance of Fox and the election of Horne Tooke for the borough of Old Sarum through the influence of Lord Camelford. The return of one who had been in holy orders involved a great constitutional question; his admission was opposed on the ground of his clerical profession, and it led to a bill making clergymen incapable of sitting in parliament. Tooke occupied his seat until the next dissolution, which occurred the year following, when he was no longer eligible. The circumstances are commemorated in a caricature by Gillray, entitled, “Political Amusements for Young Gentlemen, or the Brentford Shuttlecock between Old Sarum and the Temple of St. Stephen’s,” March, 1801. Lord Temple led the opposition to Tooke’s admission, and he is represented as resisting his entrance to the House, within which Fox is pictured crying, “The Church for Ever!” Lord Camelford, who was in the navy, is batting the shuttlecock from Old Sarum (the electors depicted as swine at a trough) to the Commons; he cries, “There’s a stroke for you, messmate; and if you kick him back, I’ll return him again, if I should be sent on a cruise to Moorfields for it! Go it, Coz.” Lord Temple is replying, “Send him back? Yes, I’ll send him back twenty thousand times, before such a high-flying Jacobin shuttlecock shall perch it here in his Clerical band.” Lord Camelford’s “List of Candidates” includes, besides Tooke, the names of Black Dick (his negro servant), and orator Thelwall, in case his ex-clerical nominee’s election was annulled; but his lordship disclaimed ever having entertained the intention of offering so gross an insult to the House. The inscriptions on the feathers stuck in the head of the noble lord’s plaything, “The Old Brentford Shuttlecock,” are intended to indicate his character.

Lord Temple.

J. Horne Tooke.

Lord Camelford.

POLITICAL AMUSEMENTS FOR YOUNG GENTLEMEN, OR THE BRENTFORD SHUTTLECOCK BETWEEN OLD SARUM AND THE TEMPLE OF ST. STEPHEN’S. 1801. BY J. GILLRAY.

THE OLD BRENTFORD SHUTTLECOCK—JOHN HORNE TOOKE RETURNED FOR OLD SARUM. 1801.

Though the cause of Sir Francis Delaval suffered at Andover from a contretemps in which the commanding officer of the district was concerned, by an opposite course of events the return of Mr. N. Jefferys for Coventry was assured through military intervention. When writs were issued for a new parliament in 1802, a meeting was convened at Coventry, when it was resolved to invite Mr. Jefferys again to become a candidate to represent them, and to support his re-election. Upon Mr. Jefferys accepting this invitation, and proceeding down to Coventry to meet his constituents, his entrance into the city was unhandsomely opposed, a riot ensued, and things began to look dangerous, when Captain Barlow of the First Dragoon Guards, who happened to be there, his regiment being stationed in the neighbourhood, exerted himself with much spirit to quell the riot and protect the candidate and his friends from insult. Rarely has a casual and unexpected service been more singularly acknowledged; Captain Barlow was at once invited to join Mr. Jefferys as second Conservative candidate, which he readily accepted; the show of hands at the hustings was in his favour, and both were triumphantly returned. The contest was a close one; Captain Barlow stood at the head of the poll with 1197 votes, N. Jefferys was elected with 1190; and the two Whig candidates were defeated—Wilberforce Bird with 1182, and Peter Moore with 1152 votes.

The Middlesex election of 1804 vividly recalled the previous excitement manifested at the Brentford hustings on the return of John Wilkes; the new party of “root-and-branch reformers,” more extreme in their political views than the Foxites, were now becoming most conspicuous by their agitations for the revision of the Constitution, and began to be known under the designation of Radicals. At the head of these “patriots” in the House of Commons were several of the younger politicians and “new luminaries,” such as Whitbread, Lord Folkestone, and others; but the most prominent leader of the movement was Sir Francis Burdett, then occupying the position previously held by “Wilkes and Liberty” at the commencement of the reign, and by Fox before his secession from Parliament. Horne Tooke, who passed out-of-doors as the baronet’s political sponsor, “guide, philosopher, and friend,” was actively supporting his pupil, and William Cobbett was, by his energetic writings, proselytizing in the same cause, and was generally regarded as the apostle of the latest sect. In the same ranks were included the wealthy Bosville and other zealous partisans. At the Middlesex election of 1802, Sir Francis Burdett, in the Radical interest, had unseated the Tory candidate, W. Mainwaring, polling nearly double the votes obtained by the ministerial candidate, who had represented the county from 1784.

In 1804, the election for Middlesex was equally trying for the administration as the memorable struggle at Westminster in 1784, and recalled the scenes witnessed on the same spot in 1786. Gillray has commemorated this occurrence in one of his most elaborate caricatures, published August 7, 1804:—“Middlesex Election, 1804—a Long Pull, a Strong Pull, and a Pull All Together;” the hustings at Brentford appear in the distance, whereon the ministerial candidate is holding forth to an exuberant crowd, amidst which derisive symbols are displayed—a huge begging-box, a gallows with an effigy suspended, and a banner inscribed, “No Begging Candidate.” The head-quarters of the Court party, at the sign of the Constitution (a crown and mitre) placarded with posters, “Mainwaring, King, and Country,” and advertising “good entertainment,” is treated to a perfect shower of missiles and dirt; a free fight is proceeding at a distance. Beneath the standard claiming “Independence and Free Elections,” now a reasonable aspiration, but, in those days, regarded as little short of sedition, a rat is hung to a lantern, expressive of contempt for “ministerial rats.” Sir Francis Burdett is carried triumphantly to the hustings; his barouche, drawn by the most illustrious members of the opposition, is emblazoned on the panels with suggestive devices: “Peace” is figured as a French eagle, with the legend, “Égalité;” the Torch of Liberty is a flaming and incendiary brand; and “Plenty” is symbolized by a pot of porter with the head of Bonaparte on the measure. Beneath the wheels of Burdett’s chariot is figured a dog with “A Cur-tis” on his collar, a blow at Sir William Curtis, enriched by “fat” Government contracts; by him is Tooke’s tract, “A Squeeze for Contractors.” On the box is the baronet’s reputed preceptor, the Brentford Parson himself, “in his habit as he lived,” smoking his pipe like his confederate “Bellenden,” that “revolution sinner” Dr. Parr; from the prime agitator’s pockets fall the speeches, “hints,” and addresses it is implied he had prepared for his hopeful pupil.

MIDDLESEX ELECTION, 1804. A LONG PULL—A STRONG PULL—AND A PULL ALL TOGETHER. BY JAMES GILLRAY.

[Page 312.

“The Party” is doing its utmost to forward Burdett’s career, and to mortify the Ministry. Tyrwhitt Jones and General Fitzpatrick, eccentric and independent politicians, are leading the “marrow-bone and cleaver” music; two lines of influential Whig statesmen are propelling the car; Bosville, Grey, the Duke of Northumberland, the Marquis of Lansdowne, and the Duke of Norfolk in one file, and Lord Carlisle, the Duke of Bedford, Lord Derby, and Fox in the other, all travestied felicitously under disguises which the caricaturist has suggested as appropriate to their characters or situations. Lord Moira (Marquis of Hastings), with the prince’s plume on his instrument, is acting as drummer. Behind the carriage rides Erskine in his bar robes, with the cap of liberty on a pike, marked “The Good Old Cause.” Tierney has “The Key of the Bastille,” in allusion to Burdett’s exertions on behalf of the political prisoners with which the prisons, such as Coldbath Fields, were at that time filled; while Sheridan is raising aloft the pictorial version of the “Governor in All His Glory,” i.e. Pitt flogging Britannia, who is fixed in the pillory, of which an enlarged version appears.

BRITANNIA FLOGGED BY PITT—THE GOVERNOR IN ALL HIS GLORY. 1804.

The election contests in 1806 and 1807, which ensued on the death of Fox, fully occupied the pencil of Gillray: his elaborate cartoons, of which reduced fac-similes are given, prove that election squibs must in his day have enjoyed a large circulation; the artist seems to have developed them into elaborate conceptions. Westminster was again the constituency, where the struggle was regarded as of most absorbing interest. Sheridan, who had sat for Stafford from 1780, now flattered himself that his popularity and his intimacy with Fox would, on the decease of the Whig chief, point him out as the natural successor of the illustrious statesman. He found an embarrassing opponent in James Paull (the son of a prosperous tailor), who had returned from India, where he filled an appointment, and brought home with him a moderate fortune and liberal ideas as regarded administrative reform. His candidature for Westminster was supported by the influence of all the advanced politicians, the ultra-Liberals, and the Radical Reformers.

In the first of Gillray’s satires on this topic, the “Triumphal Procession of Little Paull, the Tailor, upon his new Goose,” November 8, 1806, Sir Francis Burdett, who was for some time travestied as “The Famous Green Goose,” is lending Little Paull a helping mount; Tooke is leading his pupil; Colonel Bosville is distributing money to make the candidate popular; Cobbett, with “Political Register” in hand, is canvassing for Paull and “Independence and Public Justice”—referring to the new patriot’s articles of impeachment against the Marquis of Wellesley on his return from India. In view of the energetic tactics of the new candidate and his allies, Sir Samuel Hood and Sheridan thought it advisable to combine their interests, and make a coalition for the occasion. The situation is pictorially summed up as “The High-flying Candidate, Little Paull Goose, mounting from a Blanket—Vide Humours of Westminster Election” (November 11, 1806). Paull, according to the ungenerous practice of all concerned, was taunted with being the son of a tailor. Sir Samuel Hood, with one arm lost in his country’s service, and Sheridan in sables for his late friend, and with the farce of “The Devil Among the Tailors” in his pocket, are together raising their high-flying antagonist in the “Coalition Blanket.” The Admiral’s sailors and patriotic volunteers for Sheridan are alike pronouncing emphatically for the combined names of the two senior candidates. At the feet of the Coalition members is the memorial slab to departed greatness, “Sacred to the Memory of Poor Charley, late member for the City of Westminster,” “We ne’er shall look upon his like again;” the monument is thrust aside by the outraged spirit of the deceased patriot, who is in anguish exclaiming, “O tempora! O mores!”

Lord Granville.

Mellish.

Marquis of Buckingham. Lord Temple.

Head of Fox.

Byng.

Wm. Cobbett.

Sheridan and Sir Samuel Hood.

James Paull.

Napoleon as Postillion.

Sir F. Burdett.

J. Horne Tooke.

Col. Bosville.

POSTING TO THE ELECTION; OR, A SCENE ON THE ROAD TO BRENTFORD. 1806. BY JAMES GILLRAY.

[Page 315.

Sir Samuel Hood.

James Paull.

R. B. Sheridan.

THE HIGHFLYING CANDIDATE, LITTLE PAULL GOOSE, MOUNTING FROM A BLANKET—Vide HUMOURS OF WESTMINSTER ELECTION. 1806. BY J. GILLRAY.

Gillray’s third caricature on the general election of 1806 exhibits a spirited panorama of the procession to the hustings as “Posting to the Election: a Scene on the Road to Brentford,” in which each of the candidates is hastening in the way supposed to best characterize his prospects and party: William Mellish, who enjoyed the interest of the Coalition Ministry then in office, is driven in style, in a dashing “Rule Britannia and the Bank” four-in-hand, under the “Flag of Loyalty and Independence,” by Lord Granville as coachman; Lords Temple and Castlereagh, and the Marquis of Buckingham are perched behind; the latter is giving a sly helping pull to the post-chaise and pair in which is seated George Byng—“in the good old Whig interest;” the head of Fox is displayed on the box as “the good old Whig Block.” Prominent in the foreground is the grand melée of the Coalition candidates for Westminster—Sheridan and Sir Samuel Hood, mounted on a prancing brewer’s horse, just escaped from the dray, with panniers overflowing with gold pieces, and labelled, “Subscription Malt and Hops from the Whitbread Brewery.”

COALITION CANDIDATES—SHERIDAN AND SIR SAMUEL HOOD. 1806.

Burdett’s ballad-singers and marrow-bone-and-cleaver men are scattered by the plunging dray-horse from Whitbread’s, and the startled donkey, which bears little Paull, is giving the rider an upset, in which Paull’s famous “Impeachment of the Marquis of Wellesley” is falling to the ground. Last comes Sir Francis Burdett, who, on this occasion, experienced a mortifying defeat in the face of his former triumphs at Brentford; the gay barouche of 1800 and 1804 has given place to an “untaxed cart” with four miserable jackasses; the efforts of a posse of sweeper-boy followers with difficulty extricate this shabby conveyance from the slough. Acting as postillion is the little Corsican, Bonaparte, then but recently elected Emperor of the French. It was at this time one of the theories of Napoleon I., that, after the visionary conquest of England, he would inaugurate a republic, for the presidency of which he declared Sir Francis Burdett to be, in his estimation, the fittest person in England; this opinion, it is believed, was shared by the baronet—an entertaining aspect of the “might-have-beens”! “Liberty and Equality, No Placemen in Parliament, and No Bastilles,” are the watchwords of the party in the condemned cart; all the members wear “Liberty” favours in their hats. Burdett has “The Life of Oliver Cromwell” for consultation ready at hand; behind him is his political preceptor, Horne Tooke, shown in parsonic guise, and Bosville with the “Rights of Man” next his heart. Cobbett appears as the “Radical Drummer,” beating up recruits for Burdett and Paull, with his “Political Register” and “Inflammatory Letters.” “Orator Broad-face, of Swallow Street,” whose mob pleasantries overpowered the veteran Sheridan at Covent Garden, is among the baronet’s enthusiastic supporters.

A RADICAL DRUMMER. 1806. W. COBBETT.

Sir Samuel Hood.

Whitbread.

Sheridan.

James Paull.

Sir F. Burdett.

VIEW OF THE HUSTINGS IN COVENT GARDEN—WESTMINSTER ELECTION. 1806. BY J. GILLRAY.

It was at the Westminster election of 1806 that the excitement culminated. This long and expensive contest was fruitful in incidents. Gillray has produced the most characteristic “View of the Hustings in Covent Garden.” At the time this version appeared, Paull was at the head of the poll; he is shown vigorously denouncing his discomfited antagonist—“Harlequin Sherry” as “the sunk, the lost, the degraded treasurer.” Immediately behind Paull is the Duke of Northumberland, whose son, Lord Percy, had relinquished Westminster after representing it in parliament for one session, that immediately following Fox’s decease; the Duke has “No Coalition” inscribed on his hat, and a “Letter to the Vestry of St. Margaret’s” in his hand. Cobbett, Burdett, and Bosville, wearing favours for Paull, are in the front ranks of his supporters. Sheridan, exhorted to “Pay your Debts, Mr. Treasurer,” is represented as filled with consternation; Whitbread is vainly trying to rally his spirits with his “New Loyal Porter;” Sir Samuel Hood is seemingly ashamed of his colleague, and is chuckling over his confusion. The exchange of personalities between Paull and Sheridan, who was assisted by the notorious “Pickle,” his son Tom, exceeded all that had gone before, and degenerated into “Billingsgate” abuse. Sheridan, with questionable propriety, dwelt more particularly on the descent of his opponent from “tailordom,” and was waggish in allusions to the “ninth part of a man.” Paull complimented Sheridan on “his good taste,” and justified it by referring to the manager of Drury Lane as the “son of a vagabond,” actors being by Act of Parliament classed in that category. Paull was the readier at mob oratory, and Sheridan, “erst the wit of the Commons,” found the hustings a terrible penance; his appearance was the signal for violent uproar, and requests for “renters’ shares” and sums of money owing, and for which it was alleged he was liable. Painfully conscious of his familiar embarrassments, this raillery, in the presence of persons of credit and influence whose support was growing lukewarm, broke down the spirit of the veteran champion of this order of encounter. He had trusted to his well-seasoned experience in mob demonstrations, to his playful wit, apt jocularities, and sarcasms to convert the mob to good humour, and to cajole them with his popular persuasions into a friendly disposition; but he reckoned without allowing for rivalry. Besides the fluent Paull, there was one man in the crowd who fairly compelled “Sherry” to retire abashed; in vain he tried by turns ridicule and denunciation of “hireling ruffians,” the broad-faced orator in the green coat seemed stimulated by these counter-attacks. A comedy was then popular in which a dandy was repeatedly quizzed by inquiries, directed to the various portions of his apparel, of “Who suffers?” This artillery was constantly played upon Sheridan: “Sherry, I see you’ve got a new coat—who suffers?” “Sherry, who suffers for that new hat?” After this the disconcerted treasurer avoided the hustings, and his son Tom, whose cool audacity was proverbial, managed to take his place. Sheridan only gained the election through his coalition with Hood; but the shafts of Cobbett’s “porcupine quills” and the conflict of the hustings rankled in his breast. A dissolution shortly followed, and he lost his seat, which, by precipitating his financial difficulties, ingloriously finished Sheridan’s career.

The defeat of the famous Coalition Ministry of “All the Talents” upon the vexed question of Catholic Emancipation was the cause of a fresh appeal to the country early in 1807, when the followers of the late Granville Administration contested the constituencies at a disadvantage, confronted with the popular cries of “Church and King” and “No Popery.” Paull now flattered himself that his chances of being returned for Westminster were reviving, but candidates were more numerous, and Sir Francis Burdett, who was discouraged by his last experience from contesting Middlesex, was appealing to Westminster himself. Paull advertised a dinner to be held at the Crown and Anchor, and as Burdett had promised his support, and had actually gone to the length of nominating Paull, he was announced, without authority it appeared, to take the chair; this was the cause of a rupture between the prominent Radical candidates. Two days before the meeting, Burdett wrote to Paull:—

PATRIOTS DECIDING A POINT OF HONOUR; THE DUEL AT WIMBLEDON, BETWEEN SIR FRANCIS BURDETT AND JAMES PAULL. WESTMINSTER ELECTION. 1807. BY JAMES GILLRAY.

“I must say, to have my name advertised for such meetings is like ‘Such a day is to be seen the great Katterfelto,’ and this without any previous consent or application. From any one else I should regard it as an insult!”

At the dinner, it was explained by Sir Francis’s brother that Burdett had given no promise to preside; after the meeting broke up, Paull waited on his proposer, and a warm altercation ensued, when a hostile meeting was arranged to take place the next morning near Wimbledon. This duel is made the subject of a fresh satire by Gillray—“Patriots Deciding a Point of Honour! or, the Exact Representation of the Celebrated Rencontre which took place at Combe Wood on May 2nd, 1807, between Little Paull the Tailor and Sir Francis Goose.” On the field of honour, Burdett continued to be travestied as the famous “great green goose:” his letter to the electors at the Crown and Anchor is, with other political and personal publications, scattered around as the cause of the encounter; one pair of pistols is already discharged. At the second exchange of shots, which Paull demanded, as Burdett declined to apologize, both combatants were wounded, as shown in the picture. Sir Francis was highly indignant, according to the satirist’s version: “What, must I be out! and a Tailor get into Parliament?—You’re a liar! I never said that I would sit as Chairman on your Shopboard!” Paull, who is girt with a huge pair of shears sword-wise, responds, “A liar!—Sir, I’m a Tailor and a Gentleman, and I must have satisfaction.” Bellenden Kerr and Cooper, the seconds of the respective combatants, are provided with two armfuls of pistols for the emergency, which Sam Rogers described as “ending in a lame affair.”

THE POLL OF THE WESTMINSTER ELECTION, 1807. ELECTION CANDIDATES, OR THE REPUBLICAN GOOSE AT THE TOP OF THE POLL. ON THE POLL: BURDETT, COCHRANE, ELLIOTT, SHERIDAN, PAULL; BELOW ARE TEMPLE, GREY, GRANVILLE, PETTY, ETC. BY JAMES GILLRAY.

The further results of the contest are shown as the “Poll of the Westminster Election.” According to Gillray’s figurative version, Burdett, still as the goose with wounded limb, is pitchforked to the top, whence he is hissing at the Crown as the “Sun of the Constitution;” his political tutor, travestied as the Evil One, is helping his rise; Lord Cochrane, flourishing a club, marked, “Reform,” is second; Elliot, the brewer, as “Quassia,” is overset; Sheridan, in his old Harlequin suit, is slipping down, never to rise again; and Paull, with his leg damaged, has come down with a run, he having cut an insignificant figure in the polling; the members of the dismissed ministry are commemorating Burdett’s triumph with “rough music.” This version, which contains a number of portraits, is entitled—

“Election Candidates; or, the Republican Goose at the Top of the Pol(l)e—the Devil Helping Behind! vide Mr. Paull’s Letter, article Horne Tooke. Also an exact representation of Sawney M’Cockran (Lord Cochrane) flourishing the Cudgel of Naval Reform, lent him by Cobbett, and mounting triumphantly over a small Beer Barrel, together with an old Drury Lane Harlequin trying in vain to make a spring to the top of the pole, and slipping down again; and lastly, poor Little Paull, the Tailor done over! wounded by a Goose, and not a leg to stand on.” (May 20, 1807.)

THE HEAD OF THE POLL; OR, THE WIMBLEDON SHOWMAN AND HIS PUPPET. 1807. TOOKE AND BURDETT.

The support and assistance afforded by the author of the “Diversions of Purley” to his pupil are further indicated in a caricature which represented the “Brentford Parson” carrying the candidate at the end of his pole, and, as in the former example, exhibiting Burdett to the crowd assembled in Covent Garden, under the title of “The Head of the Poll; or, the Wimbledon Showman and his Puppet.” Horne Tooke is advertising “The finest puppet in the world, gentlemen; entirely of my own formation. I have only to say the word, and he’ll do anything.”

Another view of a hustings is afforded by the caricaturist. From the platform a select few of superannuated statesmen are addressing the constituents, in this instance pictured as calves. This version, which is by Gillray, represents a phase of the “Patriotic Petitions on the Convention” (of Cintra); “The Chelmsford Petition,” with Patriots addressing the Essex Calves—who, it is notified, are “To be sold to the highest bidder.” Lord Temple is unfolding the Essex Petition—“Horrid Convention! Ministers firing the Park guns; Armistice in French lingoes!” Earl St. Vincent is appealing to the electors, and declaring that all the misfortunes are due to the want of him; the gouty veteran is supported by the Marquis of Buckingham, who is asserting “It’s all for want of us, Gentlemen Calves!” sentiments which the other occupants of the platform, Windham and Lord Henry Petty, are applauding.

Marquis of Buckingham.

Lord Temple.

Lord H. Petty.

Earl St. Vincent.

THE CHELMSFORD PETITION: PATRIOTS ADDRESSING THE ESSEX CALVES.

CHAPTER XII.
ELECTIONEERING CARTOONS AND SQUIBS, 1807-20.

It was the “royal” Duke of Norfolk, who, on the appeal to the country which followed the downfall of Lord Granville’s Ministry of “all the Talents,” declared in the true spirit of the old political grandees, “After all, what greater enjoyment can there be in life than to stand a contested election for Yorkshire, and to win it by one?” The harder and more costly the fight, the better the fun, and the more relishable the victory which stirred the blood of the Howards.

It is curious to view the precise Wilberforce, as pictured by himself, entertaining at midnight suppers his constituents, the Hull freemen located in London, to the number of three hundred, at waterside public-houses round Wapping, and by his addresses to them “gaining confidence in public speaking.” As a young man, only just of age, Wilberforce successfully contested a seat for Hull. His entry to the senate cost him between £8000 and £9000, on his own showing.

“By long-established custom the single vote of a resident elector was rewarded with a donation of two guineas; four were paid for a plumper, and the expenses of a freeman’s journey from London averaged £10 apiece. The letter of the law was not broken, because the money was not paid until the last day on which election petitions could be presented.”

This early success of Wilberforce was won in opposition to the paramount influence of Lord Rockingham, and that of the Government, “always strong at a seaport;” but this contest sinks into insignificance beside Wilberforce’s later experiences. It was after the philanthropist had already represented the county of Yorkshire for twenty-three years that, on the unexpected dissolution in 1807, he found himself plunged in the most expensive contest on record, one in which it was alleged half a million of money was squandered, and which has been aptly designated the “Austerlitz of Electioneering.”

Wilberforce’s opponents were Lord Milton, backed by the powerful influence of his father, Earl Fitzwilliam, and with the active co-operation of the Duke of Norfolk; and the Hon. H. Lascelles, in promoting whose return his father, Lord Harewood, was “ready to spend his whole Barbados property.” When the great abolitionist arrived in York, he found his rivals had already marshalled their forces, retained all the law-agents, and engaged canvassers, houses of entertainment, and every species of conveyance in any considerable town. As Wilberforce assured his friends on the nomination day, when nearly every hand was uplifted in his favour, “he would never expose himself to the imputation of endeavouring to make a seat in the House of Commons subservient to the repair of a dilapidated fortune,” a vast subscription was set on foot to defray the expenses he incurred in standing, and, within a week, this fund reached £64,455. At the hustings, the high sheriff declared the majority in favour of Lord Milton and the Hon. H. Lascelles, whereupon a poll was demanded by Mr. Wilberforce, which commenced at once, and continued for fifteen days. The high sheriff presided in court, and the poll was taken at thirteen booths in York Castle yard. For the first few days Wilberforce stood so low that his professional adviser stated that “the sooner he resigned the better.” While the heavy purses had secured every mode of conveyance, even to “mourning coaches,” Wilberforce’s adherents were, at their own charges, slowly making their way to the poll.

“No carriages are to be procured,” says a letter from Hull, “but boats are proceeding up the river heavily laden with voters; farmers lend their waggons; even donkeys have the honour of carrying voters for Wilberforce, and hundreds are proceeding on foot. This is just as it should be. No money can convey all the voters, but if their feelings are roused his election is secure.”

“How did you come up?” they asked a countryman who had “plumped” for Wilberforce, and who denied having spent anything on his journey. “Sure enow I cam all’d way ahint Lord Milton’s carriage.” Vast hosts of mounted freeholders rode in bodies to York, and, when interrogated, “For what parties do you come?” the response was, “Wilberforce” to a man, and these continued to arrive both by day and night. The York Herald summarizes the excitement of the election:—

“Nothing since the days of the revolution has ever presented to the world such a scene as this great county for fifteen days and nights. Repose or rest have been unknown in it, except it was seen in a messenger asleep upon his post-horse, or in his carriage. Every day the roads in every direction to and from every remote part of the county have been covered with vehicles loaded with voters; and barouches, curricles, gigs, flying waggons, and military cars with eight horses, crowded sometimes with forty voters, have been scouring the country, leaving not the slightest chance for the quiet traveller to urge his humble journey, or find a chair at an inn to sit down upon.”

As Wilberforce’s majority increased, the “Miltonians” and “Lascellites” freely resorted to tricky manœuvres included among “election tactics.” Falsehoods about “coalitions” were circulated; it was asserted there was “an unholy alliance” between “Saint and Sinner”—Wilberforce and Harewood House; that the great slave abolitionist was in league with the “Nigger Driver,” otherwise Lord Harewood, the holder of the Barbados slave property. “Then,” says Wilberforce, “the mob-directing system—twenty bruisers sent for, Firby, Gully, and others.” It was the object of Milton’s “bravos” to drown Wilberforce’s refutations of the “Coalition” charge, and when he addressed the people, the mob interrupted his explanation. “Print what you have to say in a handbill, and let them read it, since they will not hear you,” cried a friend. “They read indeed!” said Wilberforce. “What, do you suppose that men who make such a noise as these fellows can read?” This sally won the heart of the crowd. To the other false rumours against him was added that of his own death; four days before the election closed he was attacked by an epidemic which disabled him from taking a further personal share in the struggle. Wilberforce stood at the head of the poll with 11,806 votes, Lord Milton was returned with 11,177, and Lascelles was defeated, with 10,989.

“Had I not been defrauded of promised votes, I should have had 20,000,” Wilberforce wrote to Hannah Moore. “However, it is unspeakable cause for thankfulness to come out of the battle ruined neither in health, character, or fortune.”

A large proportion of the subscriptions was returned. The motives which influenced Wilberforce to this arduous adventure are such as command the sympathies of those who prize constitutional freedom.

“It is but too manifest,” he wrote, “that expensive contests have a natural tendency to throw great counties and populous places into the hands of men of immense wealth; just as it has been sometimes found that mankind have sought a refuge from the evils of anarchy, by running into the opposite extreme, and surrendering their liberties.”

In a footnote to a series of satirical epistles, published in 1807, as “The Groans of the Talents,” in six epistles, purporting to be written by ex-ministers to their colleagues, we get a curious, if apocryphal, electioneering anecdote. The putative author of the epistle in question, the Right Hon. W. Windham, and his correspondent, T. W. Coke, were both sufferers from the damaging indiscretion recorded. It is explained how these candidates were supposed (incorrectly according to facts) to have lost their seats for Norfolk. In the general election, 1806, two ladies of the first respectability drove about the county to canvass for Col. Hon. J. Wodehouse (Conservative), and as they were universally respected, their success was proportionably great. Messrs. Coke and Windham were much chagrined at this circumstance; at length, however, the latter gentleman’s inventive genius devised a plan by which he hoped to turn it to their own advantage. Having procured two comely nymphs of light reputation, somewhat resembling in age and appearance the “fair petitioners” they were destined to personate, he arrayed them in similar apparel, and, having procured a carriage which formerly belonged to one of these ladies, they canvassed another part of the county in favour of Messrs. Coke and Windham; the trick, however, was discovered, and so indignant were Col. Wodehouse’s fair friends, that they instigated their husbands and friends to petition parliament against the sheriff’s return. Thus did the means by which Mr. Windham hoped to defeat the Hon. John Wodehouse contribute to the discredit of himself and friend. It must be added, it is hardly credible the Right Hon. W. Windham would be likely to resort to so disreputable an electioneering ruse.

In the days when candidates paid their electors’ travelling expenses (and these ranged high, averaging, for example, from London to Hull, ten pounds apiece for freemen, the recognized tariff), curious manœuvres were resorted to by the “other side;” one of these was to buy off the persons who had the responsibility of delivering these expensive cargoes safe and in good voting order at the end of their expedition. Among these anecdotes, it is related that, when those Berwick freemen who happened to reside in the metropolis—

“were going down by sea, the skippers, to whose tender mercy they were committed, used to be bribed, and have been known in consequence to carry them over to Norway!”

This is the forerunner of the Ipswich story, that the Ipswich freemen, under precisely similar conditions, have occasionally found themselves in Holland; while, on the authority of R. Southey, it had also occurred to electors to find themselves delivered at a port in the Netherlands. The notorious Andrew Robinson Bowes, who was famous for being undeterred by scruples, once stood for Newcastle. A cargo of Newcastle freemen were shipped from London for his opponent, and the master was bribed by Bowes to carry them to Ostend, where they remained till the election was over.

The majesty of the people is adequately represented from a humoristic standpoint by Pugin and Rowlandson, as it might have appeared on its septennial returns in the boisterous eighteenth century. In the view of the most celebrated polling-place of the kingdom, one of the candidates has secured the ears of the adjacent crowd:—

“A man, when once he’s safely chose,
May laugh at all his furious foes,
Nor think of former evil:
Yet good has its attendant ill;
A seat is no bad thing—but still
A contest is the devil.”

Possibly the voices will follow; a show of hands is offered with hearty goodwill; but, put to the test of the poll-book, it would seem that, for the most part, the audience is voteless. However, the polling-places may be recognized, like cattle pens, in front of the hustings, with the attendant officials under the supervision of the high bailiff of Westminster as returning officer. The flags indicate the respective parishes of the district, such as St. Margaret’s, St. James’s, St. Martin in the Fields, etc. Pugin is responsible for the literal exactitude with which the locality is represented; his drawing may be accepted as a faithful view of the customary arrangement of the Covent Garden hustings at the time of the Westminster elections: while Rowlandson has added the life and zest of the subject from actual observation. With the history of the famous contests held on this spot before us, it is noteworthy that the artist has given prominence to one well-known feature, characteristic of Westminster elections for nearly a century, the nomination of an influential naval officer in the Court interest, whose supporters, backed up by a contingent of loyal jack-tars, produced a due effect on the opposition. Rowlandson was quite at home in the scene: he has reproduced the bludgeon-boys, ballad-singers, professional pugilists, marrow-bone-and-cleaver “rough music,” and those vendors of cakes, nuts, fruit, and such small wares as were in request at such times; these itinerant traders found at elections a large mart for their commodities, but the business was at such times conducted at some personal risk, the baskets being overset, the contents scattered, and the owners roughly handled in the course of the attacks, counter-charges, and other party-manœuvres which diversified the proceedings in the vicinity of the hustings.

G. Cruikshank supplied a frontispiece to Fairburn’s “Electors of Westminster,” 1810—a copy of the “Speaker’s Warrant for the Commitment of Sir Francis Burdett to the Tower,” with a burlesque portrait of that privileged functionary, the Speaker, in an enormous wig, surmounted by a miniature hat; the Right Hon. Charles Abbott was further caricatured by the artist as “The Little Man in the Big Wig”—vide “Fuller’s Earth reanimated.”

A burlesque, by George Cruikshank, upon one of the candidates for the City appeared in 1812, under the title of “The Election Hunter;” it consists of a broadside, commencing:—

“I’ve just learned, by the porter who stands at my door,
That your old friend, Sir Charles, means to offer no more.”

G. Cruikshank has supplied the pictorial embellishments. Sir Claudius Hunter, the canvassing candidate, is standing in the stirrups of his famous charger, “White Surrey,” mounted on the platform, attended by masked horsemen, and squired by a dilapidated knight in armour, who has evidently seen overmuch service. The candidate is thus addressing the civic constituency: “Gentleman, I earnestly solicit your vote and interest for me and my horse.” This appeal the electors receive with derision, “No, no; you may saddle White Surrey for Cheapside if you like, but not for the House,” “Off, off,” etc.

This electioneering squib was probably preceded by another, also designed by G. Cruikshank (published April 10, 1812). In this version, entitled, “Saddle White Surrey for Cheapside to-morrow—W. Lon. Mil. Regt. [West London Militia Regiment], General Orders,” Sir Claudius, mounted on his steed, is making, like a true knight-errant, a quixotic charge upon his constituents, preceded by the woeful man-in-armour, like Sancho Panza, on an ass; he is charging the throng with his lance. A groom behind Sir Claudius is exclaiming, “This is our High-bred Hunter!”

In 1812, G. Cruikshank found fresh exercise for his etching-needle on another electioneering cartoon—“The Borough Candidates,” published October 1812. Suggestions of Gillray will be identified in this plate, for the artist is dealing with Charles Calvert, the brewer, who was elected for Southwark with H. Thornton, in opposition to W. J. Burdett; the new member is seated astride a barrel of his own brewing, the “stingo” is pouring forth from spigot and vent-peg. The discomfited candidates are figured on either side; while the heads of the brewer’s constituents appear in front.

Elections happily brought both food and occupation to the caricaturists and satirists, as it has been shown. Incidents connected with this subject evidently caught the popular taste, for we find Cruikshank making the most of the mere title, in association with the etching of a somewhat commonplace presentment of a country assembly-room, conveying no flattering impression of the provincial grace and deportment of the period; this was published in 1813—as “An Election Ball:” the floor is occupied by knock-kneed dancers doddering through figures, while the master of the ceremonies is shouting his instructions to the leader of the band, elevated in an orchestra overhead.

The artist evidently found this topic remunerative, for in 1819 he produced a smaller version of “An Election Ball”—a similar subject, with the arrangement of the room reversed; a country dance is proceeding with “hands across;” the clumsy master of the ceremonies, who is pigeon-toed, stands viewing the scene with evident gratification. This plate reappeared, with a new publisher’s name, in 1835 (republished by Thomas McLean, Haymarket).

Hunt.

Burdett.

Cartwright.

Sir S. Romilly.

Sir M. Maxwell.

THE FREEDOM OF ELECTION; OR, HUNT-ING FOR POPULARITY, AND PLUMPERS FOR MAXWELL. 1818. BY G. AND R. CRUIKSHANK.

Both Robert and George Cruikshank were working away on the popular side of the Westminster election contest, June 18, 1818. “The Freedom of Election; or, Hunting for Popularity, and Plumpers for Maxwell,” published June 22, 1818, owes its origin to this combination of talent. In the caricature, the candidates and their most prominent supporters are mounted on the Covent Garden hustings, of which a front view is given. Hunt stands hat in hand (he and Sir Francis Burdett sport “favours”); the Radical reformer is backed by his colours, his flag proclaims “Universal Suffrage and Liberty;” the standard is surmounted by a cap of liberty. Hunt is making a characteristically downright appeal to his audience:—

“I am a plain Englishman. I approve of the conduct of Sir Murray Maxwell in coming forward as he has done. Why should you send Sir Samuel Romilly to Parliament? He can find his way into the Den of Corruption. You know the hero of the Tower, as well as I do—who ran out at the back door when his friends were waiting for him at the front. I have hoisted the Cap of Liberty!”

The followers of the speaker are shouting, “Hunt for ever! no Sovereigns, no Regents, no Churches, no Lawyers! Universal Plunder for ever! No Sham Patriots. Hunt and Liberty. Hunt and Revolution.” Sir Francis Burdett comes next, beside the Hon. Douglas Kinnaird and Major Cartwright; these candidates are variously received. “Burdett for ever!—No Weathercocks. No Coalition. The Spenceans for ever! Napoleon for ever! Burdett for ever! No Spafields Rioters.” “Kinnaird for ever!” “Cartwright for ever! No old woman in Parliament.” Sir Samuel Romilly is standing beside the poll on which the results of the first day’s votings are recorded. The cries for “Romilly and Justice,” “Romilly and Reform,” indicate a popular candidate. Sir Murray Maxwell is a prominent figure, and is represented in the full swing of his eloquence; like Hunt, he is disposed to be a courteous opponent:—

“Gentlemen,—Mr. Hunt is anxious you should hear me now. I am certain you will hear him presently with pleasure. I am certain my cause is as popular as his; for I see many pretty girls pressing forward to hear me. Of all the days in the year, none appear more favourable for a British officer to receive your support than the anniversary of Waterloo.”

“Maxwell and the British Navy! Let every man do his duty!” is shouted; while hostile voices cry, “No Maxwell—no Captain Flog-’em.” A notice-board, capped by the crown, sets forth the merits of this candidate:—

“Who is Sir M. Maxwell? He is a brave, learned, loyal, and Constitutional man. He hoists only the colours of his King and country—not the red flag. He has engaged to pay his share of the Hustings to prevent new levies on the people.”

Sir S. Romilly (W) headed the poll with 5339 votes; Sir Francis Burdett was a good second with 5238; Sir Murray Maxwell, the unsuccessful candidate, polled 4808: the others were “nowhere”—Hunt, 84; Kinnaird, 65; Cartwright, 23.

HUNT, A RADICAL REFORMER.

In the same spirit the satirists regarded as fair game for their shafts of ridicule the new political section which had seceded from the Whig party as being behind the age; these were the “root-and-branch reformers,” who, from their electing to call themselves Radical reformers, obtained the party designation of “Radicals.” The orator Hunt is travestied in this guise.

The general turbulence of the times at this precise period is graphically pictured in “The Law’s Delay.”

“Now greeting, hooting, and abuse,
To each man’s party prove of use,
And mud, and stones, and waving hats,
And broken heads, and putrid cats
Are offerings made to aid the cause
Of order, government, and laws.”

(The Election Day.)

There appeared in 1819 “A Political Squib on the Westminster Election, Covent Garden” (March 3), by G. Cruikshank. This etching forms the frontispiece to a tract published April 20, 1819, for Bengo, print-dealer, Maiden Lane, Covent Garden. The somewhat mystifying title of the election squib is “Patriot Allegory, Anarchical Fable, and Licentious Parody,” and it purports to be written by Peregrine Castigator. G. Cruikshank has availed himself of that long-suffering animal, the British Lion; in this instance the monarch of the beasts personates the successful candidate, the Hon. George Lamb being figured as the lion. He is exhibited standing under the city gate, beneath a portcullis, wreathed with laurels; his tail is lashed in anger, while the unsuccessful candidates, as an additional ignominy to their defeat, are travestied as the heads of a hydra trampled beneath their political victor. John Cam Hobhouse (W) polled 3,861, and was beaten by G. Lamb (C) with 4,465 votes. T. T. Wooler, the revolutionary publisher, for whom Cruikshank was working in 1815, is personified as the “Black Dwarf,” as his whilom ally ever after represented him; his duck’s-head cap is made to exclaim, “Cartwright and ’38!!!” the next individual says, “Quack! quack! quack!”—an allusion to the small minority of votes polled by the Radical candidate at the Westminster election for 1819, vice Romilly deceased, when 8,364 votes were registered, and only 38 of these for Cartwright.

THE LAW’S DELAY. READING THE RIOT ACT. 1820. BY G. CRUIKSHANK.

Showing the advantage and comfort of waiting the specified time after reading the Riot Act to a Radical mob; or a British magistrate in the discharge of his duty, and the people of England in the discharge of theirs! See speeches of the Opposition—Passim.

[Page 334.

Major Cartwright, the “Drum-major of Sedition” of the ministerial satirists, was one of the Radical reformers who laboured actively for the reform of parliamentary abuses. He put up for Westminster in the Radical interest in 1818 and 1819, but seems to have had no support. In 1820, Major Cartwright addressed a petition to the House of Commons for the purpose of disclosing “that ninety-seven Lords usurped two hundred seats in the Commons-House in violation of our Laws and Liberties.”

“Resolved. That it is a high infringement upon our Liberties and Privileges for Lords of Parliament to concern themselves in the Elections of members to serve for the Commons.” (Journals at the commencement of every Session.)

How far the measure of reform was needed in the corrupt system of boroughmongering is clearly demonstrated by Major Cartwright’s—

“Lists and Tables of Peers of the Realm who have unlawfully concerned themselves in the Election of members to serve for the Commons in the Parliament which was then sitting (1820), with the Counties and Towns where the unlawful interference of Peers has operated, either by nomination or influence, with the number of members unlawfully returned.”

For instance, the Dukes of Bedford and Rutland respectively returned four representatives; the same number was in the nomination of the Earls of Ailesbury, St. Germans, Mount Edgecumbe, etc., while such powerful autocrats as the Earl of Lonsdale contrived to return eight nominees, as did the Earl of Darlington; six members were returned by the Duke of Norfolk and Earl Fitzwilliam respectively; while the Dukes of Devonshire, Newcastle, and Northumberland, the Marquises of Buckingham and Hertford, the Earl of Powis, and Baron Carrington each managed to return five seats. To the calculations given in his table, the petitioner added the Treasury patronage, then in the Earl of Liverpool’s control, giving eleven members; the Admiralty, under Viscount Melville’s patronage, imposing three members, the Ordnance (Duke of Wellington) one—adding again, according to the calculations given in Oldfield’s “Representative History” (vi. 289),—

“There are ninety wealthy Commoners who, for 102 vile sinks of corruption over which they tyrannize, further dishonour the House by forcing on it 137 members,” thus giving a total of no less than 353 members, who, as Cartwright represented to the House of Commons in his very remarkable Petition, [the Major writes] “to use the words of the royal proclamation of the 30th July, 1819,” were created such “in gross violation of the law, and to the palpable subversion of the constitution, being corruptly or tyrannically imposed on the Commons.”

“The pure and undefiled principles of the Constitution” were inculcated by Major Cartwright in his “Lectures on the British Constitution,” “Letters to Lord Mayor Wood,” “Letters to Clarkson on African and English Freedom,” “Resolutions and Proceedings of the Hampden Club,” “A Bill of Rights and Liberties; or, an Act for restoring the Civil Branch of the Constitution,” and the companion work, “A Bill of Free and Sure Defence, for restoring the Military Branch.” The major was brimming over with zeal, and had almost too good a case; unfortunately for the enforcement of his reforms, he was too early in the field.

The coming elections of 1820 were preceded by several caricatures. Those by George Cruikshank are the most meritorious, the artist’s work for this date being at its best. He was at that time employed by Humphrey, the print-publisher, of St. James’s Street, as a successor to James Gillray, an honour the artist regarded with pride to the close of his long career. On the 1st of January, John Cam Hobhouse, who was then canvassing Westminster, and was this year to be sent to parliament as the colleague of his friend, Sir Francis Burdett, was exhibited as “Little Hob in the Well,” under the title of “A Trifling Mistake—Corrected.” The diminutive statesman is exhibited in the place of his confinement, a prison-cell; he is gloomily contemplating two pictures on the wall, “St. Stephen’s Chapel versus Newgate.” A pile of manuscripts, blackened by the upsetting of an inkstand, and a mouse-trap assist the allusions. “The Trifling Mistake” is placarded on the wall in the indiscreet but pertinent utterances of the captive, which, if truly set forth, may account for his incarceration.

“What prevents the people from walking down to the House and pulling out the members by the ears, locking up their doors, and flinging the key into the Thames? Is it any majesty which lodges in the members of that assembly? Do we love them? Not at all; we have an instinctive horror and disgust at the abstract idea of a boroughmonger. Do we respect them? Not in the least. Do we regard them as endowed with any superior qualities? On the contrary, individually, there is scarcely a poorer creature than your mere member of Parliament, though in his corporate capacity the earth furnishes not so absolute a bully. Their true practical protectors, then—the real efficient anti-Reformers—are to be found at the Horse Guards and the Knightsbridge Barracks. As long as the House of Commons majorities are backed by the regimental muster-roll, so long may those who have got the tax-power keep it,—and hang those who resist.”

In the same month appeared another strong “anti-reform” caricature from the same source—though, as we see by a later work, the artist’s sympathies were at this time on the side of the reformers, while Radical publishers of an advanced type were his chief employers,—“The Root of King’s Evil—Lay the Axe to it,” January 14, 1820. A learned prelate, seated in his library, is considerably scared by the apparition of the red spectre, literally a root—possibly implying the tree of liberty—planted in “le bonnet rouge,” and wearing the cap of liberty. On a pike in one hand is the mitred head of a bishop, in the other is another pike surmounted by a battered crown, with the tricolour flag edged with crape, and inscribed “Blood, Reform, and Plunder,” with a list of the “reds” and reformers in juxtaposition—Watson, Thistlewood, Preston, Hooper, Waddington, Harrison, Hunt, Pearson, Wood, Waithman, Parkins, etc. In the second category are Cobbett, Carlile, Tom Paine, Burdett, Little Hob, Death, and the Devil,—no King, etc. The prelate is interrogating the spectral visitor: “In the name of Satan, what the Devil are you, and where were you hatched?” “In Hell, your worship. I’m a Radical. Give me leave to present you a list of my best friends.” “Burn’s Justice” stands open at “Treason,” and a huge volume of “Etymology” stands exposed at the definition of “Radical”—“Ex Radix is a root, and Calor is heat, anger, strife; q.d.—The root of all strife.”

A comprehensive view of the respective sections of Radicals and Reformers on the dissolution of Parliament, February 29, 1820, is afforded by one of G. Cruikshank’s most successful caricatures, which may be considered, in point of execution, as among the works most worthy of his reputation; it is entitled, “Coriolanus Addressing the Plebs,” February 29, 1820. The scene is the screen in front of Carlton House Palace, and His Majesty, the magnifico George IV., is flatteringly travestied as Coriolanus. The “cauliflower” wig and false whiskers affected by “the finest gentleman in Europe” detract from the consistency of the figure, otherwise attired in classic guise, and presenting a dignified appearance; for, wonderful to relate, Cruikshank has gone out of his way to compliment the king in more than one respect. The address, a felicitous quotation from Shakespeare, is antagonistic to the actual sentiments held by the artist at this stage of his career:—

“What would ye have, ye curs, that like not peace nor war? The one affrights you, the other makes you proud. He that trusts to you, where he should find you lions, finds you hares; where foxes, geese. Hang ye! trust ye!! With every minute you change a mind, and call him noble that was now your hate; him vile, that was your garland. What’s the matter, that in the several places of the city, you cry against the noble Senate, who (under the gods) keep you in awe, which else would feed upon one another?”

Hon. Douglas Kinnaird.

Coriolanus (George IV.).
Plebs:
Dr. Watson.
Preston.
Carlile.
W. Cobbett.
Orator Hunt.
Thelwall.
Sir F. Burdett.
W. Hone.
Wooler, the Black Dwarf.
Cartwright.
Hobhouse.
Alderman Waithman.
Cruikshank.

CORIOLANUS ADDRESSING THE PLEBS. 1820. BY GEORGE CRUIKSHANK.

[Page 338.

Beneath the quotation is a passage from Buffon, eulogizing the nobility of the figure above, “L’image de l’âme est peinte par la physionomie”—“animé d’un feu divin,” and other extravagances, such as “his majestic presence, and the firm and bold deportment which marks his nobility and rank.” In the other “Great George’s” parody, the various sections, from Reformers to Revolutionists and Socialists, are carefully kept apart, although the plebeians at the first glance appear but a miscellaneous mob.

First comes “Liberty of the Press,” a tricolour standard, topped by the “cap of liberty.” At the front stands William Hone, a stalwart champion, armed with two formidable clubs, one is styled “Parody,” and the other inscribed with the names of the famous satirical tracts, “The Man in the Moon,” and “The House that Jack Built,” both objectionable weapons in the eyes of the “Coriolanus” of the picture. Behind his ally and publisher, Hone, is the portrait of the artist himself, with a tricoloured portfolio marked “Caricature.” George Cruikshank, in his later days, when turned to Tory proclivities like one or two other notabilities in the group, endeavoured to soften the impression conveyed by this print, and described “your humble servant” as “one of the moderate reformers,” evidently not relishing the company of those among whom, in his early truculent days, he had voluntarily enrolled himself. Next comes the figure of the champion of the Princess of Wales, “Sheriff Double Hue,” otherwise Waithman, who is hugging a project for “Hell-wide Measures;” beneath the standard of the “Examiners” and “Chronicles” stands a figure clad in complete Highland garb; this is Douglas Kinnaird, on the alert, and armed with his trusty claymore. Sir Francis Burdett and John Cam Hobhouse, jointly grasping a formidable weapon, are enlisted under the standard of “Parliamentary Reform.” Hobhouse is trampling on the “Trifling Mistake,” a parodied version of the speech which procured him more notoriety than was desirable: over his head is seen Thelwall as a champion lecturer; Major Cartwright, the so-called “Drum-Major of Sedition,” after all his struggles in the cause, is but a broken-down leader, supported on a crutch stick with one hand, while raising the redoubtable sword of “Universal Suffrage” in the other. Prominent in front of the group enlisted under the ensign of “Revolution and Plunder,” capped with the Death’s head, stands Wooler, travestied as the “Black Dwarf,” after the paper he had then made notorious. Orator Hunt, with pike reversed, is resting one hand on Cobbett’s shoulder; the latter, a brawny figure, flourishing two gigantic bones (of contention?); another communist is skulking away, having let fall Tom Paine’s “Age of Reason.” The publisher of the “new lights,” Carlile, is resting on a staff capped with a thistle; Preston, the bootmaker, a violent Democrat, together with Thistlewood and others holding extreme views, are enrolled under a bond of “Blood and Plunder.” The figure to the extreme left, next to the screen of Carlton House, is described by Cruikshank as intended for Dr. Watson. Truly the “Plebs” form a muster-roll of all the prominent Radicals and Revolutionists of a period when secret societies of those whose designs were inimical to constitutional order were presumed to flourish.

The evils which disfigured constituencies in the boroughmongering days are pictorially set forth by George Cruikshank, under date April 23, 1820, in a caricature entitled “Freedom and Purity of Election!!! Showing the Necessity of Reform in the Close Boroughs.” The scene refers to the elections in Cornwall; the locality being indicated by a signpost as Tregony and St. Austel. The unhappy villagers, by the independent exercise of their suffrages, have displeased their feudal proprietor, and are being summarily evicted from their houses, with their household belongings, by a truculent steward, with a list of the “proscribed” held in his hand. Old and young, women and children, are alike doomed, because they or their protectors have dared to act with independence, and have not voted according to the fiat of the lord of the manor. Daniel O’Connell appears as the unsuccessful candidate; he is viewing this mischief with compassion, and is encouraging those evicted “not to be cast down, as there are other houses besides his lordship’s,” and that he—the Liberator—“will not desert them, although they have lost the election.”

Parliament reassembled at the end of April, 1820, and in May, George Cruikshank again favoured the public with another anti-reform cartoon, “Radical Quacks giving a New Constitution to John Bull!” In this version the persons most prominent among the “Plebeians” are alluded to incidentally. John Bull, the national prototype, is reduced, under the new “regimen,” out of all recognition; in fact, he is but the mangled remnant of his former portly self, for the new charlatans are having “their own sweet will.” John Bull is placed between Burdett and Hobhouse; many desperate operations have already taken place. He wears the bonnet-rouge of “Liberty” as a night-cap. His left arm is in a tricoloured sling, while his right arm is being bled. His two sufficient supports of Church and State have been amputated, and in their places are strapped two wooden-legs—“Universal Suffrage,” propped on the “Rights of Man,” and “Religious Freedom,” which is raised on the “Age of Reason;” the legs of his invalid-chair are equally unreliable—“Mistaken Confidence,” and “Mistaken Security;” the sufferer is resting on a pillow stuffed with “False Promises” and “Reformers’ Opinions.” Sir Francis Burdett, as a professional adviser, is holding the arm from which he is draining the patient’s blood:—

“Mr. Bull, you have lived too well, but when we have renovated your constitution according to our plan, the reform will be so complete—that you will never again be troubled with any fulness whatsoever!”

John Cam Hobhouse is administering a tricoloured bolus of formidable dimensions, to be followed by a corresponding draught:—

“Never mind, Mr. Bull; if we have thought it necessary to take off both your legs, you will find the others very good substitutes; this Revolutionary Bolus and decoction of disloyalty are very harmless, but they will restore the general equality of the intestines and remove any obstruction which may prevent us from effecting a Radical Reform in the system.”

The victim of these experiments is by no means assured as to his future—

“Maybe, gentlemen,” he replies to these plausible assurances; “but you have taken all the honest good blood out of my veins; deprived me of my real supporters, and stuck two bad props in their place, and if you go on thus, I shall die before ever my constitution can be improved.”

The real supporters, “Mr. Bull’s two legs—Church and State,” are consigned to a coffin, “to be entombed in the vaults of St. Stephen’s Chapel.” A formidable array of nostrums are displayed in the vicinity: Burdett has soporifics and opiates handy—a huge bottle, labelled “Burdett’s Mixture,” contains a red, white, and blue republican decoction, “Hobhouse’s Newgate-proof Purity,” and “Whitbread’s Entire;” a large packet of “Cartwright’s Universal Grease,” with a phial of “Wooler’s Black-drops;” “Old Bailey Drops” (the bottle broken); ditto, “Dr. Watson’s White + Comfort;” a packet of “Hunt’s Powder,” and a full supply of “Cobbett’s Hellebore Ratsbane”—enough, in all conscience, to kill or cure.

CHAPTER XIII.
ELECTIONEERING, POLITICAL WARFARE, AND PARLIAMENTARY REFORM UNDER WILLIAM IV., 1830-32.

The last parliament of George IV.’s reign met November 14, 1826. Towards the close of the session, as is shadowed in Doyle’s early cartoons, the nation was tiring of the Tories, and the unpopular and somewhat antiquated Wellington Ministry found the country in distress and clamorous for retrenchment, to each of which complaints the rigid disciplinarian in chief command turned a deaf and unsympathetic ear. Towards the middle of the year 1830 the king’s condition was threatening, and with his impending decease the close of the session was anticipated. The situation is pictorially summed up in one of HB’s sketches as the “Present State of Public Feeling Partially Illustrated” (May 28, 1830). The views entertained by various individuals upon the king’s illness are illustrated in their persons: a dandy regrets the postponement of routs and balls, a speculator complains of the dulness of the funds, a merchant finds business at a standstill, while a lady of fashion is resigned to the will of Providence by the opportune reflection that should the king die there would be the gayer prospect of a queen and Court—an advantageous exchange for a sovereign shrouded from his subjects. John Bull good-naturedly declares he hopes George may recover, “he was such a fine princely fellow!” But the part of this picture which applies most pertinently to the subject in hand is found in a member of the Tory Government, who is reflecting “That should there be a change in the ministry—then I must walk out. That would be very inconvenient at the present. I wish most sincerely His Majesty won’t die yet!” while another M.P. is filled with apprehension: “There will he a dissolution of parliament, and I shall lose my seat, and with it all chance of preferment. Oh, I pray God to preserve His Majesty’s life these many years.” Swiftly indeed, and somewhat unexpectedly too, came the end of the king’s reign and the inauguration of a more liberal régime.

The next day appeared HB’s version of the “Mourning Journal—Alas! Poor Yorick” (May 29, 1830), showing the Duke of Cumberland and Lord Eldon as mutes in attendance on the (to them) melancholy occasion of their chief’s decease. “The Magic Mirror, or a Peep into Futurity” (June 8, 1830), shows a magician favouring John Bull with the prospect he might anticipate: the youthful Princess Victoria becoming the point of contention on the one hand between her mother, the Duchess of Kent, and her uncle, Prince Leopold, of Liberal proclivities, and the Tory pressure of her uncle, the Duke of Cumberland, assisted by the Duke of Wellington, on the other.

While the dissolution was impending, Doyle indicated the revival of Whig prospects, “The Gheber worshiping the Rising Sun” (July 6, 1830) shows Mr. (afterwards Lord) Brougham paying his devotions to “William IV. Rex,” the head of the king on the gold coin, known as “a coronation medal,” rising over the waters, and taking the place of the orb of day. Parliament dissolved on July 24th. Owing to some intrigues of the old campaigner at this emergency, the Duke of Wellington was made to appear as “A Detected Trespasser,” ordered off the slopes of Windsor by “John Bull, Ranger:” “Halloa, you sir; keep off the grass (see anecdote, Times, July 19th).”

Another pictorial version of strategies in high life is entitled “Anticipation; or, Queen Sarah’s visit to Bushy” (July 27, 1830). At the door of the Lodge at Bushy, where resided the Duke and Duchess of Clarence, is the carriage of Lady Jersey, with attendants in her handsome liveries. One of her footmen is imparting the unwelcome intelligence, “Duchess not at home, my lady.” The Duke of Wellington, who is on horseback at the other side of the carriage, is consoling Lady Jersey’s disappointment: “Never mind, never mind, I’ll get you a key to what is going on here thro’ my dear little St. James’s Marchioness.” The duchess’s footman, in the royal livery, cannot fathom the intrigue: “I wonder what brings her down here now? I have been in this place these twelve years, and never saw her here before!”

Henry Brougham.

King William IV.

THE GHEBER WORSHIPING THE RISING SUN. JULY 6, 1830. BY J. DOYLE (HB).

What unknown marvels might be anticipated from the combinations of party, is hinted in the “Un-Holy Alliance, or An Ominous Conjunction” (July 29, 1830), showing the Duke of Cumberland and Lords Durham, Grey, and Eldon in close confabulation. “Old Bags,” as the whilom lord chancellor was irreverently christened, is characteristically “laying down the law,” for the enlightenment of his comrades in this strangely assorted quartette.

A general and somewhat conventional satire on the possible conduct of candidates before, upon, and after their return, appeared among the “Election Squibs and Crackers for 1830,” “Look on this Picture, and on that.” “General Election—dedicated to Electors in General—the difference between one hour after the return, and one month after.” The voter represented is evidently a prosperous mechanic; he wears the colours of the newly elected one in his hat, and is thus addressed by the member he has contributed to return: “My worthy, my best friend, it will be my constant study to comply with your wishes—how can I serve you? Let me see you often; pray come to the Hall; we shall be so happy to see you.” This overcoloured state of things is strangely altered within a month; the candidate is now a full member, and is evidently studying his own interests to the exclusion of those of his constituents; in his hand is a peremptory Government “whip,” thus worded: “Ministers wishing to pass the measure, your vote will be required.” The legislation in question appears to threaten the welfare of his late enthusiastic supporter, who has ventured to interview his member on the momentous topic: “Sir, there is a Bill about to pass that will quite ruin our trade, and bring our families to beggary. I hope, sir, you will use your influence to throw it out.” The member now wears an indignant expression: “You are an impudent fellow! I don’t know you, and, if I did, do you suppose I should be dictated to, fellow?” This plate was executed by William Heath, and issued by T. McLean, of the Haymarket. Perhaps the most notable feature is an announcement that “Election caricatures can be executed for gentlemen in three hours.” This advertisement, appended to the caricature in question, is curious. Of course, for a not-extravagant consideration, intending candidates could secure the playful services of William Heath for rendering ridiculous or contemptible the persons and principles of their antagonists, and for the exaltation of their own.

LOOK ON THIS PICTURE—AND ON THAT.

Before the Election.

After the Election.

ELECTION SQUIBS AND CRACKERS FOR 1830. BY W. HEATH.

[Page 346.

Political satirists, happily for themselves, as a rule (with one or two exceptions, such as Sayer and HB) have soared above mere party distinctions; and though it may at first sight strike the observer as indicating a looseness of principles—rather, say, a freedom from prejudices—that each gifted artist seems to lash and laugh at both sides alternately to the best of his abilities, some allowance must be made for the impartiality which enables these latter-day Juvenals to detect the foibles of either faction. As a rule, it may be assumed the old generation of famous caricaturists, taking Gillray, Rowlandson, and George Cruikshank as the most eminent exponents, rather leaned to the popular side of any given question; but, inclination apart, they were just as capable of glorifying “the powers that be,” and of “dusting the jackets” of the would-be reformers. Of this trio, Cruikshank particularly prided himself, as he has himself recorded, upon espousing the side of right against palpable wrong, and of championing the weak against the strong. But, in spite of this pleasing illusion, his caricatures are equally trenchant on either side—to-day the Regent is demolished, to-morrow his unfortunate wife is held up to opprobrium, with happy nonchalance and impartiality. In fact, it may be said of Gillray, as the specimens of his ability in this direction sufficiently demonstrate, that his pictorial satires against Pitt and the Tories were equalled only by his satires directed against Fox and the Whigs, or the youthful Burdett and the Radical reformers of his earlier day.

Apropos of the same general elections, we find our old friends, Sir Francis Burdett and his whilom preceptor and champion, William Cobbett, of Political Register repute, engaged in what the artist delineates as “A Character-istic Dialogue” (September 2, 1830). “Peter Porcupine,” having parliamentary aspirations, is applying to his ancient pupil and ally for a voucher: “Being much in want of a character, I make bold, Sir Francis, to ask you for one; it appearing that your benevolence in this way embraces all sorts of criminals, you cannot consistently refuse me!” Burdett, in spite of this touching reference to his exertions on behalf of the prisoner inmates of Coldbath Fields, is turning a haughty front to the applicant: “I cannot do anything for you; your character is already Registered.” With the reformed parliament, Cobbett was returned for Oldham. In the House he disappointed expectations, and was regarded as somewhat in the light of a failure.

WILLIAM COBBETT—“PETER PORCUPINE.” BY J. GILLRAY.

The usual changes of seats had taken place in the course of the elections, and it was hinted that the Wellington-Peel Administration might find it expedient to increase its strength by the infusion of new blood, with a view to the “power-to-add-to-their-numbers” policy. The chiefs still in office are shown by Doyle as visiting “The Noodle Bazaar” (September 9, 1830, Q. and HB delt.). Reviewing the files of various assorted “bustoes,” Wellington, using his eye-glass, is observing to his colleague, “Peel, I am in great want of a few good heads to place in our Cabinet before the opening of the new House in October, and I see some here which I think would answer, if they could be had on reasonable terms.” Peel, alive to the results of the elections, is replying, “I perceive that the places of some have been changed, and their value raised since I last saw them, and pray observe the strange mixture of heads upon the upper shelf.” The Peers who, according to the notification below them, “May be had separately or together,” occupy the upper shelf, and below is a cabinet of busts for sale, ready assorted. The shelved lords offer a motley choice: Lords Grey, Eldon, Holland, Lansdowne, the Duke of Cumberland, etc.,—all statesmen out of work. Below the upper shelf is a platform on which is an assorted ready-made ministry (of busts) arranged in a regular order. “This group is to be sold in one lot. Every head has its price marked on it.” The respective busts represent Huskisson (president of the Board of Trade), Grant (colonies), Palmerston (foreign secretary), Melbourne (home secretary), etc. On a pedestal marked “Yorkshire, to wit,” is the brazen bust of Henry Brougham, the plinth with the word “Rolls” struck out in favour of “Chancery.” The bust of Hume in marble stands on a square and massive pediment, marked “Middlesex.” O’Connell is below in clay; he is thus ticketed: “This head won’t be sold—(until it be bought).” A row of lesser men on a shelf in the distance bears the advertisement, “These small busts may be had remarkably cheap.” The bust of Charles X. is just upset; while, on a high plinth, marked “The People’s Choice—a French pattern of inestimable value,” stands his successor, Louis Philippe. The Dey of Algiers is also thrown aside, while Lords Manners, Redesdale, and Sidmouth are among the “antiques,” obsolete patterns, and “oddments.”

The proverbial independence of John Bull’s character is playfully called in question (September 10, 1830), the national prototype being represented (not for the first or last time) as “The man wot is easily led by the nose.” The Times is the potential leading organ to which John Bull is attached in the way described; he is exclaiming, in happy delusion, “What a glorious thing it is to enjoy the liberty and independence of an Englishman!”

The displacement of the Wellington-Peel Cabinet followed a little later on. We next see the Duke of Cumberland surrendering office: “Resignation and Fortitude; or, the Gold Stick.” The king is seated busied in State affairs, the ex-Gold Stick, handing in the wand of office, is remarking, “I have now only to cut my stick and be off!” William IV., still pen in hand, replies briefly, “Thank ye, brother, thank ye,” being evidently reconciled both to his situation and the enormous sacrifice involved.

Incidentally we find a reference to the general election which was then engaging public attention; Doyle has ingeniously given a novel turn to his view of one of the candidates, by introducing a comparison with a performer who was also enjoying popular notice, “The Rival Candidates” (August 9, 1830). There are two hustings erected, and the crowd of free and independent electors is filling the intervening space. The satire is evidently aimed at Sir Alexander Grant, who, standing in front of his committee, is pointing, with a self-satisfied air, to his chin, of which Doyle has made the most. His rival is Michel Boai, “the musical wonder,” a Tyrolese performer, who “played tunes on his chin” by sheer muscular force. He is shown hammering his nether jaw with his fists, and giving a specimen of his chin-proficiency, supported by another minstrel with a small violin. Boai’s performance has won the sympathies and suffrages of his audience, who have with one accord turned their backs upon Sir A. Grant, and are applauding the new musical marvel. Boai’s agent is skilfully “working the oracle” while drawing attention to the rival booth:—

“The hon^ble Gentleman opposite has certainly a most extraordinary chin, and when he places his claims to your suffrages upon that broad and ample basis, it must be GRANTed that he rests his hopes upon some foundation; but, Gentlemen, the Candidate whom I propose to you possesses such transcendent superiority in this important feature that I feel BOAIed up with confidence, when I claim for him your triumphant preference (cheers); and, Gentlemen, permit me to add that, in the event of his return, which I now consider certain (cheers), few orators in the hon: House will command more attention, or be listened to with so much pleasure.”

That the interests of the Wellington Cabinet were in jeopardy is pictorially conveyed. “The Unsuccessful Appeal” (September 25, 1830) shows John Bull arm-in-arm with the king, while Wellington is pointing to a distant movement amongst the crowd, and asking Mr. Bull’s protection against his political foes. “My good old friend, I want your assistance against these fellows, who are about to unite for the purpose of overpowering me by numbers.” The inimical confederates are Brougham and Lords Holland, Durham, Grey, etc., on the one side, who are fraternizing with Lord Eldon, the Duke of Cumberland, and others, on the other. Johnny is thus responding to the old campaigner’s appeal:—

“I should be sorry to see you defeated by such an unholy alliance after all the battles we have fought and won together; but the fact is, I feel so oppressed with the glory of so many victories, that I must beg to be excused from interfering any more for the present in the disputes of others. There are, however, plenty of clever fellows to be had, who are able and willing enough to assist you, but when you again meet with such, let me advise you not to be too ready to quarrel with them!”

William IV. is quite at one with his friend, the last speaker—“Whatever you say, John, I will agree to; for your will is my pleasure.”

Before the new parliament assembled, the Cabinet received some damaging assaults from the press. The nature of this concealed warfare is explained by HB in his sketch of “A Masked Battery” (October 4, 1830). The assailant is Henry Brougham: in his legal guise, entrenched behind the “Result of the General Election,” with the Edinburgh Review for a screen, he is bespattering his opponents, the beleaguered “Ins,” with ink. The Tory Cabinet is suffering severely: Wellington is to the front, trying to ward off the shower from Brougham’s inkstand-battery; in his hand is a damaging attack on paper,—“The Duke of Wellington and the Whigs.” Sir Robert Peel is endeavouring to shelter himself behind his chief. Lords Bathurst, Ellenborough, Lyndhurst, and Aberdeen are all suffering from the assault.

When the House met, we get a prospect of the prime minister reviewing his forces—“A Cabinet Picture” (November 5, 1830). Wellington, with his colleagues, Lords Aberdeen, Lyndhurst, Bathurst, Rosslyn, Melville, and others, whom the chief is thus addressing:—

“Having been obliged to recognize the King of the French, we must, as a set-off—acknowledge our friend Miguel. The Belgians—poor people!—not knowing how to take care of themselves, must be protected from the evils of independence! So much for foreign affairs, now for domestic. I say that our present system is the very perfection of systems, and consequently admits of no improvement; I will go further, and say that, while I have power, no species of reform shall take place! and now—having said it—if Peel will but manage the new Police, Hardinge Ireland, Goulburn [Chancellor of the Exchequer] abstain from projects of finance, and Ellenborough hold his tongue, we may manage to keep our seats for another session.”

After the elections it was evident that things out-of-doors were moving antagonistically to the interests of the Wellington Cabinet, but the “Old Campaigner” still hoped by stratagem to keep in power, although resolute in asserting that while he kept office no species of reform should take place. The premier’s optimist confidence “that his ministry might keep their places for another session” is shown to be misplaced, for the defeat of his ministry was clearly foreshadowed: “Guy Fawkes, or the Anniversary of the Popish Plot” (November 9, 1830), shows that destruction was abroad; and this cartoon is a late exemplification of the old British institution of burning in effigy a minister when out of favour. The political Guy is, of course, Wellington, the hero of a hundred fights, reproduced in straw, tied to a rickety chair, and is gaily borne to the bonfire by a rejoicing mob of statesmen, his political antagonists. Lord Lansdowne leads the way, with a blazing torch to fire the fatal pyre; the bearers are the Duke of Cumberland and Prince George (Duke of Cambridge), Lords Holland, Sidmouth, Eldon, etc.; Aberdeen, Stanhope, and the Duke of Newcastle bring up the rear in a high state of exaltation;—these were the peers who “sapped the Tory defences.”

Wellington was evidently losing popularity, and the lustre he gained in the field was being clouded in the Cabinet; John Bull has to come to his rescue against the rabble, and the valiant captain is once more shown sheltered under the king’s mantle. It appears the lord mayor’s banquet was threatened with a hostile demonstration, and the city magistrate, “Don Key,” was thrown into a deadly state of apprehension by the alleged prospect of being received with “cold indifference.” This cartoon is entitled “The False Alarm; or, Much Ado about Nothing.”

The Wellington tenure of power was doomed, and, like Cæsar’s, his fatal stab was to come from the hand of a colleague, on the inopportune revival of the Eastern Question. “Scene from the suppressed Tragedy, entitled the Turco-Greek Conspiracy,” shows the minister (wearing his well-earned laurels) done to death by the Peers at the foot of Canning’s statue in the forum; the Senators being armed with deadly speeches wherewith to accomplish this tragic immolation. “Et tu Brute” are the hero’s closing words addressed to his past comrade, Lord Londonderry, who is giving the coup de grâce.

W. Heath, who was employed by McLean at the time Doyle’s sketches were making their appearance, has given many versions of events during George IV.’s somewhat oppressive reign. At the close of 1830, with the advent to the throne of a more constitutionally-minded sovereign, the artist sums up the dismissal of a Cabinet whose actions he had frequently criticized from a pictorially satirical point of view. In the version of “His Honour the Beadle Driving the Wagabonds Out of the Parish,” November 28, 1830, Heath has impressed Sir David Wilkie’s well-known picture of “The Parish Beadle” into the service of parody. King William IV., as the Bumble of the situation, is making a clean sweep of the relics of the past reign: “Come, be off: no hangers behind—out with you all! I’ll let you see I represent the aristocracy of the parish!” John Bull, who may be considered to have generally endorsed his friend William’s policy with hearty goodwill, is giving his approval: “That’s right, Master Beadle, do your duty and clear the parish of the varments; they’ve been a pest ever since they’ve been here.” The chancellor Lyndhurst, Lord Ellenborough, Goulburn (late chancellor of the exchequer), and the rest, are making a hasty retreat. Peel, dragging his “new police” monkey attached to a string, is hardly reconciled to his banishment from office: “Vell, ve did all ve could to kick up a row afore ve vent!” Wellington, as the “hurdy-gurdy” woman, dressed in the faded splendours of an old soldier’s coat, is making all the noise of which the instrument is capable while retreating with his face to the foe.

The results of the general election of 1830 culminated within a month of the reassembling of parliament in the substitution of a Whig for a Tory ministry, and William IV.’s tenure of the throne was inaugurated by the early adoption of that liberal progress which developed into the larger measure of reform within two years, the most memorable act of his reign. Doyle shows the ensuing distribution of offices, and sketches one of the intrigues for place—Henry Brougham, as “The Coquet,” being tempted by Lord Grey to a political allegiance, and courted on the woolsack with the bait of the chancellor’s wig. After the preliminary skirmishing and cementing of necessary alliances, the end was short, sharp, and decisive, and is embodied by HB with his customary point and felicity, as “Examples of the Laconic Style” (November 26, 1830). The king is “standing at attention;” he has sent for Lord Grey. “Your conditions?” The coming premier answers, “Retrenchment, Reform, and Peace.” “Done!” says the king, holding out his hand on the bargain. The Duke of Wellington, on the left, is stepping off the scene, while John Bull, to the right, is not reluctantly giving his late commander the order, “Right about face, march!”

Lord Chancellor Lyndhurst.

Scarlett.

Lord Ellenborough.

Goulburn, Chancellor of Exchequer.

Duke of Wellington.

Sir Robert Peel.

William IV.

John Bull.

HIS HONOUR THE BEADLE (WILLIAM IV.) DRIVING THE WAGABONDS OUT OF THE PARISH. NOV. 28, 1830. By W. HEATH.

[Page 354.

With the advent of the powerful Whig party came such sweeping reforms that minds accustomed to the old order of things began to take fright. It seemed that national institutions, and those fabled landmarks, “The bulwarks of the constitution,” bid fair to be swept away within six months, and another appeal to the constituencies was imminent. The Tory views of the new order of things were embodied by Doyle (April 4, 1831) in “A Very Prophetical and Pathetical Allegory,” in which it was foreshadowed that the institutions of the country could not survive reform, but must succumb within ten years. This vision conjures up a deserted cemetery, wherein, in woeful anticipation, is erected the tomb of departed greatness: “Here lyeth the British Constitution, which, after a rapid decline of ten years, departed this world, 1841.—I was well; wishing to be better, here I am. Sic transit gloria mundi.” The Duke of Wellington, as a widowed and ancient crony in deep sables, is shedding a tear, and depositing a wreath on the family vault, which is presumed to contain such honoured dust.

The gloomy forebodings of the Tories are further illustrated with much spirit in the guise of an expected game of “Leap-Frog down Constitution Hill,” April 13, 1831, in which the Whigs are flying over the heads of the opposition. On Constitution Hill stand Burdett, O’Connell, Hunt, and other advanced politicians, crying, “Go it, my boys; we shall soon have it our own way;” the game is proceeding swimmingly down the slope. Lord King has brought down an archbishop—the head of the Church; Lord Althorp is sweeping down the judges; Lord Lansdowne has upset Lord Eldon; Lord Durham directs the tall Duke of Cumberland to stoop his head; Lord Brougham, in his chancellor’s robes, has alighted on the shoulders of the Duke of Wellington; William IV. has “tucked in his head” and “made a back” for Lord Grey; but the premier, in his flying leap, has failed to clear the crown, which is sent spinning. “D—n it,” says the king, “didn’t you tell me you wouldn’t touch the Crown?”

The coming appeal to the country was preceded by the usual political meetings; this circumstance is made the subject of a felicitous parody, “Anticipated Radical Meeting” (April 20, 1831). In one of Hunt’s Matchless (Blacking) carts stands the glib-tongued Radical in the full tide of his harangue; “Hunt, the Matchless Reformer,” is surrounded by the Tory party; the opposition consists of the ex-ministers, and includes Sugden, Peel, Horace Twiss, Wetherell, Goulburn, Ellenborough, Wellington, Aberdeen, and others, who are ironically welcoming and encouraging the oration. Hunt’s speech is thus reported:—

“Will the Bill, I ask, do away with places and pensions? (Cheers.) Will it abolish tithes and taxes? (Cheers.) In a word, will it make the poor rich and happy? (Great cheering.) No! It will do none of these! therefore I say this Bill is all a delusion! (Tremendous cheering and waving of hats.)”

Old Eldon, mounted on the shoulders of his ally, the Duke of Cumberland, is vociferously calling for “One cheer more!”

The House dissolved on the 22nd of April, and the fresh elections took place in May. The nature of John Bull’s complaint and the respective views of the rival practitioners who were called in for consultation are set forth by HB (May 2, 1831) as “Hoo-Loo-Choo—alias John Bull and the Doctors.” The national prototype is seated in an arm-chair; his huge corporation seems to have become utterly unwieldy and inconvenient; he occupies the centre of the picture. His doctors “in and out of place,” are on the respective sides. John Bull is addressing Lord Grey:—

Sir F. Burdett.

Lord Durham.

Duke of Cumberland.

Lord Holland.

Lord Althorp on a Judge.

Lord King on the Bishop.

Lord Brougham (Lord Chancellor). Duke of Wellington.

The King (William IV.)

Lord Grey.

LEAP-FROG DOWN CONSTITUTION HILL. APRIL 13, 1831. BY J. DOYLE (HB).

[Page 356.

“With such vehement force and might
Lord King drove all before,
The Bill went through ’twixt Philpotts’ legs
And turn’d him fairly o’er.”

Lord J. Russell.

Lord Althorp.

Lord Grey.

John Bull.

Sir Robert Peel.

Duke of Wellington.

HOO-LOO-CHOO, alias JOHN BULL AND THE DOCTORS. MAY 2, 1831.

[Page 357.

“I can’t say that my bodily health was ever better, or that I ever felt stronger, tho’ to be sure I am not growing younger; but then every one is telling me how deformed I am grown of late, and this tumour—which I have had from my infancy—is all a mass of Corruption.”

Grey, while indicating his colleagues, Althorp and Russell, says in reply, “This deformity is quite inconsistent, believe me, with the nature of your Constitution, and therefore must be got rid of. I will undertake, with your approbation, to remove it, and my assistant, Doctor Russell here, will prepare you for the operation.”

Russell is observing, “I once thought that a case of this description ought to be treated with great caution, and even wrote, as well as talked, a great deal about it, but now I am quite of a different opinion. I think there is nothing like cutting away thro’ thick and thin!”

Sir Robert Peel, one of the dismissed doctors, on mature consideration, is inclined to question his past policy: “Yet I begin to think we could have done better, when we found him determined to think that his Constitution was impaired, to have tried, just in the way of soothing, a gentle alternative course.”

Dr. Wellington is still of his old opinion: “I say that the man has no defect in his Constitution, and that what they call Corruption is necessary to his existence; but now, because he would not believe me, but chose rather to submit to the experiments of those rash operators, Wharncliffe, who is a sensible man, lays all the blame on me.”

The lively proceedings while the returns were preparing were fittingly epitomized by HB as “May Day” (May 4, 1831), setting forth as a “Jack-in-the-Green” performance the new revels of the revisers of the constitution. The king occupies the green, which is topped by a crown, and bears the word “Reform;” the face of William IV. is peeping through the aperture. Earl Grey is “My Lord;” Sir Francis Burdett is almost equally conspicuous. Hobhouse, Hume, and O’Connell are making a good deal of rough music with shovels, and Russell has the Pandean pipes and big drum, on which he is vigorously performing. Lord Brougham, as “My Lady,” is going round with the ladle; he is interrogated by the Duke of Cumberland and Lord Eldon as to the “Man in the Green.” The Duke of Gloucester and Lord Londonderry, among the audience, are regarding “My Lady” with suspicion.

The second portion of the new tactics is developed as “Leap-Frog on a Level; or, Going Headlong to the Devil” (May 6, 1831). The turn of the Reformers has come, and the Radicals are making them submit to the same process as they lately inflicted on the Tories. Carlile is rolling over a churchman to the place of torment, having leaped a trifle too far; the Evil One, as he declares in person, “has come to end your games.” “The Devil you are,” says the author of the tracts. Sir Francis Burdett is unwillingly giving a back, “Have I stooped for this?” His old ally, “Porcupine” Cobbett, is leaping heavily on to the baronet’s shoulders, “My turn now, old Glory.” Grey is staggering while Hunt is “overing” him: “I begin to think this is a very disorderly game.” The mob are shouting, “Go it, Hunt,” which is displeasing to the now elevated orator: “D—— the Rabble, they take me for one of themselves.” Brougham is brought to his knees: “Hullo! you’ll have off my wig;” O’Connell, firmly seated on the chancellor’s back, is crying, “Oh! never mind; I’ll take care of that!” The king is brought to the earth; “This is the levelling system with a vengeance.” He is overturned by Hume, who is exclaiming, “This summing-up is the tottle of the whole.”

Hume on Lord King.

Dan O’Connell on Lord Brougham.

Orator Hunt on Lord Grey.

W. Cobbett on Sir Francis Burdett.

R. Carlile.

LEAP-FROG ON A LEVEL; OR, GOING HEADLONG TO THE DEVIL. MAY 6, 1831. BY J. DOYLE (HB).

[Page 358.

“‘But God is with us,’ said the King,
‘The people must be free.
I will create an hundred Peers
If need should ever be.’”

The House had dissolved on the 22nd of April, 1831, and the elections which ensued were remarkable for spirit. A quantity of literature, in the shape of broadsides, songs, and squibs of a startling character, was produced on this occasion, in such abundance that even for small constituencies in out-of-the-way places these jeux d’esprit form huge volumes. A number of parodies appeared on the great question of the Reform Bill, imitations of scripture among others. Of the ballads published over the border, the one most descriptive of the constitutional struggle is found in a parody of “Chevy Chase.”