“THE NEW CHEVY CHASE.
“God prosper long our noble king,
Our lives and safeties all;
Some dreadful battles late there were
Fought in St. Stephen’s Hall.
“Long o’er the land, with pride and scorn,
The Tories held their sway;
The child will rue that is unborn,
That has their debts to pay.
“The Tory Lords throughout the land,
A vow to God did make,
Their pleasure in their borough towns
As formerly to take.
“For they would keep their borough towns,
Whate’er the King might say.
These tidings to Lord Russell came,
In Bedford, where he lay.
“Who sent the Tories present word,
He would prevent their sport;
These noble Lords not fearing him,
Kept up their old resort:
“With nigh two hundred Tories bold,
All men of the old light,
Who knew full well, but would not own,
They were not in the right.
“Dark rumours through the country ran,
And many filled with fear—
And an old ‘Blacking man,’ called Hunt,
At Preston did appear.
“And long before this time they had
Been lab’ring in vain,
And fencing round their borough towns,
That must be sieged and ta’en.
“The Bill-men muster’d on the hills,
Unable to endure;
They of their bare backs show’d a part,
Their clothing being poor.
“The ancient Whigs in front did stand,
Not one was seen to quake;
And with loud cries the hills and vales
Were rous’d for freedom’s sake.
“Duke Wellington stood in the bent,
And spoke with haughty sneer—
Says he, ‘Earl Grey he promised,
And Russell, to be here.
“‘But now I think they will not come,
To meet us here this day.’
With that a trembling pensioner
Thus to the Duke did say:—
“‘Lo! yonder doth Lord Russell come—
Earl Grey is in my sight—
Behind I see a countless host,
And gloomy as the night.
“‘All men displeased, from hill and dale
The King’s name gives them head.’
‘Fie on the King,’ said Wellington,
‘Although I eat his bread.
“‘And, now, my proud preservatives,
Your courage to advance;
Upon the plains of Belgium,
You know I conquer’d France.
“‘And even the great Bonaparte,
That filled the world with fear,
I him encounter’d man for man
With Blucher in his rear.’
“Lord John upon a gallant Grey,
Like his great sires of old,
Stood foremost of the company,
His bearing it was bold:
“‘Shew me,’ said he, ‘what right have ye
To kick up sic a steer,[65]
For a few dirty border towns,
Worth little goods or gear.’
“The first that then did answer make
Was Wellington so free,
Who said, ‘We’ll keep our borough towns,—
Corrupted though they be.
“‘For we have bought our borough towns
There’s none can that gainsay.’
Then Russell swore a solemn oath,
And likewise did Earl Grey.
“‘We will not thus outbravèd be:
Proud chief, thy strength we’ll try;
We know thee for a bloody man,
In this thy strength does lie.
“‘But as we wish for no man’s death,
Nor any blood to spill,
You see we’ve brought into the field
No weapons but a Bill.
“‘Let you and I the matter try,
With reason on each side.’
‘Curse on your cant,’ said Wellington;
‘You Whigs I can’t abide.’
“Then stept a quibbling lawyer forth,
Old Wetherell was his name,
Who said, ‘he would not have it told
In Boroughbridge for shame,
“‘That e’er his captain or himself,
While he stood looking on,
Would condescend, or reasons give,
For reasons they had none.
“‘I’ll do the worst that I can do,
These inroads to withstand;
While I have power to use my tongue,
The robbers I will brand.’
“The Tory archers seized their shafts,
And a long-bow they drew,
But in the flight they wanted might,
And were not pointed true.
“To urge the battle in its need,
Lord Althorp bade the bent,
He was not filled with any pride,
But had a good intent.
“They clos’d full fast on every side,
They fought at every mound,
Till at the last the Tories yield,
And quit the common ground.
“O but it was a joy to see,
And likewise for to hear,
The grateful sounds that through the land
Came pealing on the ear.
“At last Duke Wellington and Grey
Came in each other’s sight;
Like lions roused they stand at bay,
And parley ere they fight.
“‘Yield thee, proud Captain,’ said Earl Grey,
‘In name of our good King;
You little think, by this delay,
What mischief you may bring.’
“‘Thy praise I will most freely give,
And this report of thee,
Thou art the most outrageous Duke
That ever I did see.’
“‘To yield to thee,’ said Wellington,
‘Would bring me nought but scorn;
Bring up the bishops to the fight,
And blow the gospel horn.’
“With that there came an arrow keen,
Out of a bishop’s bow,
That struck Earl Grey upon the head,
And almost laid him low.
“But still he spoke these cheering words,
‘Fight on, my merry men all,
The bishops they are stumbling-blocks,
I’m stunn’d, but will not fall.”
“Then gaining strength, Lord Brougham took
The old Earl by the hand,
And bade him rest a little while,
While he took the command.
“O, but the very heart does bleed,
What sorrow does it make,
To see the holy men of God
Bound to a worldly stake.
“A peer amongst the Whigs there was,
Who did the bishops eye,
And instantly did vow revenge
Upon the carnal fry—
“The brave Lord King, well known to all,
Who, with the Bill in sight,
And mounted on an iron Grey,
Laid on from left to right.
“Lord Harrowby he swiftly past,
And Wharncliffe wav’ring near,
And sought the dastard bishops out,
Where they stood in the rear.
“With such a vehement force and might,
He drove down all before;
The Bill went through ’twixt Philpotts’[66] legs,
And turn’d him fairly o’er.
“So thus Earl Grey was well aveng’d,
And did no more complain;
A Tory archer then conceiv’d
That Philpotts he was slain.
“He had a bow bent in his hand,
Made of a rotten tree,
An arrow of the self-same root,
Without a head, drew he.
“Against the noble peer, Lord King,
The rotten shaft was set,
But wanting a good Grey goose wing,
It fell before it met.
“These battles they were fought at night,
Before the rising sun,
And when they rung the ev’ning bells,
Again the fray begun.
364
“There was not many nobles slain,
But some may yet atone;
Lord Eldon sunk, and his last speech
Is to all people known.
“Great Sir James Scarlett in the field
Was ta’en of small account;
John Wilson Croker would not yield,
His talking did surmount.
“For Wetherell I needs must wail,
As one in doleful dumps,
At Bristol town he took leg-bail,
With nothing but his stumps.
“On Russell’s side there did not fall,
A man who held degree,
But all yet live, and yet will fight,
If needs should ever be.
“With the Lord Durham, true and staunch
Did noble Stanley stand;
And Scotland, too, sustain’d her part,
Old Joseph shook his brand.
“And the Lord Althorp, he, likewise,
Disdained a foot to flee;
He held the bill still firm and fast,
And promis’d victory.
“Next day did many people come
Earl Grey for to bewail;
They found the old man at his post,
Determin’d to prevail.
“He had assurance from the King,
Who thus to him did say—
‘Betide, betide, whate’er betide,
I will support thee, Grey.’
“The news was brought to Edinburgh,
Where the French King ’s again,
That Wellington had won the fight,
And that Earl Grey was slain.
“‘O joyful news,’ King Charles[67] said,
‘Scotland will witness be,
That Wellington and Polignac[68]
Are Pears of the same tree.’
“Like tidings to King William came,
Within a shorter space—
Says he, ‘The bishops are great fools,
And really a disgrace.
“‘But God is with us,’ said the King,
‘The people must be free,
I will create an hundred Peers,
If need should ever be.
“‘Yet shall not Wellington long boast
What mischief he does make:
I saw him lately with the Queen,
I doubt he is a rake.
“‘This vow the King he will perform,
In honour of the crown;
A hundred peers he can create,
Or knock a hundred down.
“‘Then Peers will be of small account,
And Peel that stood so high,
Because he wants consistency,
I think we’ll pass him by.’
“God save the King, and bless the land,
May all dissensions cease,
And grant henceforth that foul debates,
Like this, may end in peace.”
This view of the situation is followed up by a cartoon aimed at the opposition tactics, “Votaries at the Altar of Discord” (April 20, 1831). Hunt is the high priest fanning the incendiary flame at the Altar of Discord, before which Sir Robert Peel, who seems to have relinquished power reluctantly, as the mouthpiece of his kneeling followers, is offering this invocation: “Powerful Goddess, deign to hear our prayers; deserted in this, our great extremity, by justice and wisdom, we fly to thee as a last refuge.” The other devotees are Horace Twiss, Goulburn, Dawson, Sadler, Sir E. Sugden, Sir C. Wetherell, Earl Carnarvon, and the Dukes of Wellington and Newcastle. The opposition in the Upper Chamber was in a highly excited state, an example of this is given in “Peerless Eloquence” (April 25, 1831). Lord Londonderry is boiling with indignation: “Is it to be endured, I ask, that we should be called things—things with Human pretensions? What was the fish-woman’s virtuous indignation at being called ‘an individual’ to this? Nothing!” Brougham, on the woolsack, remains calm under the torrent; Lords Aberdeen and Wharncliffe, with the Duke of Wellington, are placidly surveying the outraged senator.
The slaughter of the innocents is figuratively told (May, 1831) in a novel edition of the “Niobe Family.” Lord Grey is the destroyer, his arrows are marked “Reform.” The Niobe of this version is the Duke of Newcastle; the smitten are Sir Charles Wetherell, Attwood, Sadler, and others, whose constituencies were threatened with extinction under the Reform Bill.
The motion for reform, then in full swing, is summed up from a Tory standpoint (May 13, 1831); the legend of “John Gilpin” is pressed into the service of the caricaturist.
“Away went Gilpin, neck or naught,
Away went hat and wig,
He little dream’d when he set out,
Of running such a rig.”
William IV. is, of course, the Gilpin of the situation; the bottles slung to his side are ginger-beer ones—“Rotunda Pop” and “Birmingham Froth;” the “Grey” horse is running away with the king at a dashing pace, and the crown is dislodged in the scuffle. John Bull, the pike-keeper, has thrown open his gate, and is highly excited at the sport: “Go it, my lads, never mind the turnpike!” Burdett is enjoying the fun, but opines, “The Grey is evidently running away with him.” Hume, Hunt, O’Connell, Cobbett, and others are following on horseback in the king’s wake. One cries, “Make way, make way; we’ve a great stake depending on it.” The Irish Repealer is urging on the pace, “Go along, never mind the geese and old women.” The “geese” wear coronets, to symbolize the scared peers scattered by the onslaught; and the “old apple woman” capsized in the rush is old Eldon, the Tory ex-chancellor; Croker is a “croaking” raven. The sign of the inn is changed to a new version of the Crown up in the oak tree, and the balcony is filled with the late ministers, travestied as the ladies of the Gilpin party. Wellington is distressed beyond measure at this alarming spectacle, and is appealing to John Bull: “Good Mr. Gatekeeper, stop him; he doesn’t know where he is going!” Sir Robert Peel exclaims, “Oh, John Gilpin! John Gilpin! where are you going? Don’t you know your old friends?” Goulburn is declaring, “He must have lost his senses to ride at such a rate!”
| Wellington. | Sir. R. Peel. | Goulburn. | J. Hume. | Dan O’Connell. |
| Peers as Geese. | The King on the “Grey.” | Lord Eldon. | Sir Francis Burdett. |
JOHN GILPIN. MAY 13, 1831. BY J. DOYLE (HB).
[Page 366.
“THE HANDWRITING ON THE WALL.” MAY 26, 1831.
[Page 367.
King (William IV.). Loq. “‘Reform Bill!’ Can that mean me?”
Another admirable version, the felicity of which has been much appreciated, is entitled “The Handwriting on the Wall” (May 26, 1831). The King, taking his constitutional stroll in the Park, has come upon the inscription, in huge white letters, painted on the wall, “Reform Bill!” William IV., shading his eyes with his hand, is peering at this legend,[69] exclaiming “‘Reform Bill!’ Can that mean me?”
The tendencies of the time were considered fraught with danger; the measures of reform about to be experimentally tested would, it was hinted, produce a political revolution—if not a total subversion of everything; Lord Grey, the Mephistopheles of the situation, as viewed through Doyle’s “Conservative Magnifiers,” occupied an unenviable prominence, and might expect a day of terrible retribution. “Brissot’s Ghost” (May 30, 1831) is the only hint which could be offered to the innovating statesman. The ghastly figure of Brissot, with his decapitated head under his arm, is disclosed to the premier as a startling vision, with a significant warning, drawn from his fatal revolutionary experience:—
“To lead the mob, ‘mid faction’s storm
I rode my hobby-horse—Reform,
And had it all my own way.
Till other levellers ruled the mob,
And then I lost my seat and nob,
Take warning, my Lord Grey.”
“Macbeth,” with the famous incantation scene, is impressed into the service of parody to sum up the anticipated state of affairs before the meeting of the House; “The Tricolored Witches” (June 6, 1831):—
“Black spirits and white,
Yellow spirits and Grey,
Mingle, mingle, mingle,
You that mingle may.”
There are five witches, wearing Republican red caps, and armed with besoms of destructiveness, assembled round the cauldron.
The three chief witches are Lords Grey, Durham (“Yellow Lambton”), and Brougham. As the ingredients are cast into the blaze, fed by Durham coal, Grey is singing the charm:—
“Forty years of toil and trouble
Like a hell-broth now shall bubble.
When the pot begins to boil,
Sons and daughters seize the spoil.
Double, double, toil and trouble,
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.”
Lord Brougham takes up the invocation:—
“Freeman’s votes, and Grants by Charter.
First-born rights in ev’ry quarter,
Law and Justice, Church and King,
These the glorious spoils I bring.”
Lord Durham has his allotted share:—
“Saving-Banks, the Funds, and Rent,
Insurances and money lent,
Orphans’ Claims, and widows’ pittance,
Throw them in, to make a quittance.”
Lords Althorp and Russell are acting as the chorus:—
“Round about the cauldron go,
In the Constitution throw.”
The king is unexpectedly surprising the incantation. He is dumbfounded; the charm is already active, and away flies his crown. He is girt with a scarf, “Repentance,” and apostrophizes his reform friends:—
“Filthy Hags!
Infected be the air whereon they ride,
And damn’d all those that trust them.”
“A Tale of a Tub—and the Moral of the Tail!” (June 13, 1831) is another view of the critical juncture, as it was then assumed to be. The old constitutional ship is left for the whale-boat. The monster is in such dangerous proximity that a dash from its tail—while splashing “popular spray” over its would-be captors—threatens a fatal catastrophe. Lord Althorp has thrown over a pretty considerable tub, “Vested Interests and Chartered Rights;” “There,” he is made to exclaim, “amiable monster! In order to please you, we have thrown you all! Should you require more, you must only take ourselves.” Lord Grey is steering; Lords Brougham, Holland, and Durham have the oars. The king, wearing his naval uniform, is trying to keep the crown from falling overboard; he is evidently apprehensive of the worst: “But why approach so near the tail—the good-natured monster may, without meaning any harm, upset us all in one of his gambols!” The man at the helm is reassuring his chief: “My reasons for steering are pretty plain, tho’ fortunately for me some people don’t see them. It is by flattering the tail, that I command the head!” Lord Brougham, “the schoolmaster abroad,” is imparting this useful piece of knowledge: “It has been discovered in the march of Intellect, that the Tail often outstrips the Head!” Wellington and Peel have stuck to the ship; the latter is still of opinion that he ought to have made an effort to retain his post: “Yet I can’t but think we might have succeeded in amusing it for a long time with a very small Keg.” Wellington is less confident: “I tell you, Bob, the Monster is not to be satisfied!”
Other allusions of a seasonable character were also produced by Doyle, apropos of the tendency of the epoch. One of the best is selected among many, “Varnishing—a Sign (of the Times)” (June 1, 1831). The sign of the King’s Head is undergoing renovation; Lord Brougham, in his chancellor’s robes, is mounted on a ladder, and employed in touching up the royal countenance with a pot of varnish. “I think that, considering I was not bred to the trade, I am not a bad hand at bedaubing a King. After all, to produce effect, I find there is nothing like plenty of varnish.” Lord Grey, from an open window, is surveying with marked satisfaction his colleague’s work. “Canning used to talk about a Red Lion; but I say that, in our reforming times, there is no such sign for a (re) publican as a King’s Head, although a Star and Garter is not to be despised!”
The somewhat well-worn subject of the hustings is also treated pictorially amongst the cartoons which appeared during the elections. One version is entitled, “The Rival Mount-O’-Bankes; or, the Dorsetshire Juggler” (May 25, 1831). The scene of the hustings is again travestied as a fair. “Bankes and Co.’s Old-Established Booth” is left quite deserted; a pillar of the Church is the solitary patron. “If our friends don’t come up faster, we may shut up shop,” says the showman; while his assistant is declaring, in allusion to the success of the rival show, “This Juggler is juggling all our customers away from us!” The “Nonpareil Juggler” has, in fact, monopolized all the custom. Lord Grey is the showman; he is holding forth his programme to the numerous patrons: “The Bill, the whole Bill, and nothing but the Bill of the Performance of the Nonpareil Calcraft.” The showman, “Grey, Licensed Dealer in Curiosities,” is pointing to a glowing picture of the entertainment to be seen within—Calcraft, in the very act of swallowing a lengthy speech dead against the principles of the reform party as represented by Lord Grey; he is described as “Lately exhibited in the metropolis by Monsieur Villainton, with unheard-of success.” The customers are thus exhorted:—
| King William IV. | Lord Brougham. | Lord Grey. |
VARNISHING—A SIGN (OF “THE TIMES”). JUNE 1, 1831. BY J. DOYLE (HB).
[Page 370.
THE RIVAL MOUNT-O’-Bankes; OR, THE DORSETSHIRE JUGGLER. MAY 25, 1831. BY J. DOYLE (HB).
[Page 371.
“Valk up, gemmen, valk up! Here you may see the most wonderful Juggler, who eats his own words! not at all in the usual way practised by pretenders to the ‘Craft, and which is now become almost as common a trick as swallowing the sword, but in a manner the most extraordinary and unparalleled! He likewise plays off many strange antics, quite peculiar to himself and most curious and amusing to behold. I aver, gemmen, I challenge the universal world to produce such a show as this here Juggler makes of himself!”
The crowds are flowing in,—says one, “I am tired of Bankes’s Booth, besides, this promises more amusement;” and another, “I like novelty, so here goes.”[70]
Doyle has given a clever embodiment of a current political situation, borrowed from the illustrious humourist, his predecessor: “LINEal Descent of the Crown.” See Hogarth’s works, “Four Prints of an Election” (June 23, 1832). A modernized version of the sign of the “Crown” is dependent from a beam; Lord Grey, with his face to the building, is seated upon that portion of the support which he is hacking lustily with a sickle, marked “Bill.” Cobbett, Hume, and O’Connell are tugging away at the rope which is to accomplish the downfall. The former exclaims, “If we act in union, we’ll soon bring it to our own level.” Hunt remarks, “I fear his exalted seat will turn his head.” O’Connell is encouraging the dangerous exertions of the Reform chief: “Ply the Bill well there, Grey, and it will soon be all down.”
A reference to the possible effects of changed politics upon the suffrages of constituencies is slyly conveyed by HB’s sketch of “The Cast-off Cloak.” Sir John Hobhouse is standing at the entrance of the War Office; he has removed the red-lined cloak of “Radicalism,” which he is thrusting on his old colleague, Sir Francis Burdett: “Pray relieve me of this, Burdett. I shall find it a great incumbrance in a warm place like this.” The reply of the veteran Sir Francis is more politic: “Ay, but don’t forget that you have an engagement in Covent Garden.[71] You may find the atmosphere rather cool in that quarter.” Burdett’s own political convictions were to undergo as sudden a transmutation, as HB has illustrated a few years later.
As it was felt by the Conservative party that the king, by whose instrumentality the important measure of reform was alone carried, was bound on an enterprise of which the results were doubtful, and, according to their apprehensions, desperate, they tenaciously fought for the inviolability of corruption.
“With nigh two hundred Tories bold,
All men of the old light,
Who knew full well, but would not own,
They were not in the right.
“And long before this time they had
Been lab’ring in vain,
And fencing round their borough towns
That must be sieged and ta’en.”
(New Chevy Chase.)
According to Doyle’s new version of “Mazeppa” (August 7, 1832), the king is bound and tied to “Reform,” represented as “the wild horse of the steppes,” surrounded by wolves, some of whom bear Tory visages, among which the face of the Duke of Wellington is easily identified. Horse and rider are overleaping the barrier of “Vested Interests,” while beneath the courser rushes the “Revolutionary Torrent,” whose volume is increasing. The success of this spirited version induced the designer to publish a second plate (September 25th), presenting the sequel. It is evident in this—which exhibits the wild horse, and Mazeppa, his rider, extended on the plains, but apparently uninjured—that the threatening vortex of the “Revolutionary Torrent” has been passed, and neither has been swamped; but the king is landed in the midst of the herd of wild steeds, weirdly careering round the prostrate pair are the rest of the tribe, on whose heads appear the faces of the leading advocates of reform—Lord Brougham, Lord Grey, Duke of Richmond, Lord John Russell, Lord Althorp, Sir James Graham, etc.
MAZEPPA—“AGAIN HE URGES ON HIS WILD CAREER.” AUG. 7, 1832. BY J. DOYLE (HB).
[Page 372.
“Freemen’s votes and grants by Charter,
First-born rights in every quarter,
Law and Justice, Church and King,
These the glorious spoils I bring.”
The new parliament only sat from June 14, 1831, to December 3, 1832. Towards the close of the session (November 22, 1832) it was hinted that ministers were not altogether too happy, and they had flown to stimulants to promote a fictitious confidence. “Ministers and (in) their Cups!” is the title; each has a presentation gold cup in his hand, and a punch-bowl is in the centre of the table. The Ministers are half-seas-over; Grey is singing “Here’s Comfort when we Fret;” Russell is joining in the chorus. Althorp declares, “I am quite overpowered;” and Brougham, who has further been presented with a gold toddy-ladle, is crying, “Ah, this is now the greatest consolation we have left. I wish some one would give poor Palmy a cup!”
CHAPTER XIV.
CHARACTERISTICS OF ELECTIONEERING, 1833 TO 1857.
John Doyle, as a Tory satirist, was eagerly anticipating indications of change in the popular sentiments. His warnings on the Reform Bill had fallen unheeded, and the Whig party was still strong in power. HB ventured on the hint that the Tories were only temporarily in disfavour, and that they had but to adapt themselves to the times and resume office. The “Waits” (January, 1833) gives an ingenious and novel view of political matters. John Bull, in dressing-gown and double night-cap, is leaning out of his first-floor window in critical contemplation of the minstrels’ efforts to please his ear. The Duke of Wellington, with the smallest of fiddles, has the leadership of “the waits.” Lord Ellenborough (trombone), Sir Robert Peel (flute), and Lord Aberdeen (’cello) are the midnight harmonists. The awakened householder, Mr. Bull, is requesting a more piquant programme: “I’m tired of your eternal ‘God save the King’ and ‘Rule Britannia,’—give us something French—‘The Marseillaise’ or ‘The Parisienne.’” Wellington, touching his hat, replies, “Please your Honour, we don’t play them ’ere tunes.”
“Sindbad the Sailor and the Old Man of the Sea!” (vide fifth voyage, June 8, 1833) was published after the dissolution. William IV. is, of course, the marvellous traveller, and the incubus he has submitted to get settled on his shoulders is the reforming premier, Lord Grey.
That parliamentary reform, though commenced, was by the extreme party considered but an imperfect measure, is pictorially illustrated in various designs by HB; for instance, the elusive “Time” is shown running away with the great Whig Reform Bill, and Lord Althorp is seen tearing after the vanishing roll, crying, “Stop thief!” He has the Times in his pocket, presumably the organ by which John Bull’s course was piloted, and is vainly trying to come up with the departing thief and his measure, one tiny corner Lord Althorp has torn off, “Schedule A,” and that promises to be all he can save from the abduction.
SINDBAD THE SAILOR AND THE OLD MAN OF THE SEA. JUNE 8, 1833. BY J. DOYLE (HB).
Another version, also by Doyle, embodies in graphic form the views of the root-and-branch reformers; a grand trio of Sir Francis Burdett, then a prominent Radical; Joseph Hume, who was all for economic reform, in which important branch he has left no true successor; and Daniel O’Connell, a most important factor in his time, whose covert designs were nothing less than “Repeal.” These gentlemen, who were among the most conspicuous politicians of their day, are linked arm-in-arm as the “Three Great Pillars of Government; or, A Walk from White Conduit House to St. Stephen’s” (July 23, 1834); published under the same auspices of Thomas McLean, at the Haymarket Gallery, as the other examples of Doyle’s satirical ability reproduced in this summary. Sir Francis Burdett is with much spirit advocating “Equal Representation and Annual Parliaments—and that (a snap of the fingers) for the Borough-mongers.” Hume is applauding this resolute front: “Bravo! and Cheap Government;” to which Daniel O’Connell is adding, “And Universal Suffrage, and Vote by Ballot, eh?” with, as a supplement, in a very small whisper, “A Repeal of the Union.”
When another general election occurred, the situation of honest John Bull was figured as that of a stout gentleman wishing to be carried on his road, but distracted as to the conveyance he must choose. The Tory ’bus stands contrasted with the new reform steam vehicle, which is crowded with experimentalists. “The Opposition ‘Busses” is the title of this version, also due to HB. The Duke of Wellington is trying to secure John Bull for his old coach, which does not seem much patronized.
“Don’t trust ’em, Sir, and their new-fangled machinery. Can’t get on at all without being kept in constant hot water, and sure to blow up in the end; with us you’ll be much more safe and comfortable,—careful driver, steady train’d horses, and rate of going much faster than formerly.”
| Sir Francis Burdett. | Joseph Hume. | Daniel O’Connell. |
THREE GREAT PILLARS OF GOVERNMENT; OR, A WALK FROM WHITE CONDUIT HOUSE TO ST. STEPHEN’S.
JULY 23, 1834. BY J. DOYLE (HB).
[Page 376.
Sir Robert Peel is the coachman. Steam-coaches were fashionable novelties in 1834; the uncomfortable-looking, nondescript new conveyance, with its steam up, is crowded with statesmen. O’Connell, Lord Melbourne, Lord John Russell, and Lord Palmerston are distinguishable. Hume is touting for his new invention:—
“You are not such a silly Chiel as to go with them old screws? Eh, you’ll never get to your journey’s end. Ours is the new grand-junction Steam Omnibus, constructed upon scientific and feelosophical principles—warranted to go at race-horse speed, and no stopping.”
DESIGN FOR THE KING’S ARMS, TO BE PLACED OVER THE NEW SPEAKER’S CHAIR. FEB. 17, 1835. BY J. DOYLE (HB).
With the renovated and redressed Constitution, the wits hinted that novel accessories would be in request, and that the insignia of regality would also have to be revised. Such a suggestion is offered in Doyle’s “Original Design for the King’s Arms, to be placed over the New Speaker’s Chair,” where old Cobbett, late “Peter Porcupine,” the persistent agitator, who obtained a seat in Parliament after the passing of the Reform Bill, is playfully substituted as the British Lion; and the high-bred Sir Francis Burdett, who, as is seen in these electioneering illustrations, had so long figured before the public as a Radical reformer, and was now beginning to turn to the Tory interest, is usurping the position in the royal escutcheon generally appropriated to the fabled unicorn.
The advent of the ballot was not ardently desired by the Tories, and it was hinted that the consequences of its introduction would entail such inconveniences as are figured in the two illustrations here given, rather implying that violence and coercion would henceforth be unavailing, and that, as bribery would be in vain also, administrative corruptors would prefer to make a more legitimate use of their money.
A ballad of the “broadside” order appeared upon “The Windsor Election” of 1835. As a genuine rough-and-ready production, called forth by the circumstances of the contest, and embodying the names of the candidates, it is worth preserving as typical of thousands of similar ballads, which have in all probability perished from the bills of mortality.
“What a wonderful thing’s an Election!
It sets all the people alive;
And makes them all busy and nimble,
Like so many bees in a hive.
’Tis then the nobs learn to be civil,
And get all their lessons by rote;
With ‘How do you do? Honest friend,
I’m come to solicit your vote.’
“There’s enough of that humbug just now,
To be seen in a neighbouring town,
Where the voters don’t scruple to say
The whole will be dear for a Crown.
They’re professing to canvass for truth,
Which all honest folks must deny,
For ’tis plain as the nose on your face,
They’ll gammon you all with—a-lie.[72]
“Then, to think of that corporate body,
All their mind on the thing is agog;
They’ll be gammon’d as surely by him
As they formerly were with their hog.
Just fancy that day at the hustings,
You see that comical crop,
The old soldier playing first fiddle
To the tune of the Bachelor’s Hop.
“When they’ve scrap’d and fiddled away,
And find little company come,
The Fiddler will soon bag his kit,
And then the day’s work will be done.
The people may think this is wise (Vyse),
But the thing will be well understood,
For a man to fiddle all day
Should be made of cast iron or wood (Col. Wood).
“Now to see the phizogs of this crew,
As they travel away cheek-by-jowl,
Led on by old Dot-and-go-one,
A-scratching the head of his poll.
At the warmints he’s storming and raving,
And wishing ’em all at the Devil,
Whilst Sir John,[73] and the rest of his staff,
Are cursing the Bachelor’s Revel.
“Success to Sir John de Beauvoir,
He’s a man that is loyal and true,
He’ll strangle that monster—corruption,
And live to bury him, too.
Whilst the ghost of old Elley, in pity,
To the Corporate body will come,
In a vision, with two bags of money,
On the back of old Dot-and-go one.”
INCONVENIENCES THAT MIGHT HAVE ARISEN FROM THE BALLOT. BY G. SEYMOUR.
[Page 378.
Duke of Wellington.—“Yes, my Lord, fifty thousand pounds expended, four-fifths of the votes promised, and yet the Election lost!”
Lord Eldon.—“Oh, horrible!!”
INCONVENIENCES THAT MIGHT HAVE ARISEN FROM THE BALLOT. BY G. SEYMOUR.
[Page 378.
“Gipsy-boy” Bludgeon-men.—“Arn’t we Gipsy-Boys to be your Bullies this Election, my Lord—if you want anything done, we arn’t at all partickler what it is?”
First Lord.—“No; I’ve got no use for you now!”
It appears that the Whig interest had it all their own way; Sir John Elley was put forward by the Windsor corporation as an independent candidate, as appears from the following extracts from “A Parody of the Mistletoe Bough:”—
“A banner now hangs in a corporate town
Professing to keep all corruption down,
And many retainers are blithe and gay,
Being keeping an Election holiday:
But the Corporate body, they take offence,
And bring a man here under pretence
That an Independent Gent is he,
And they swear that he is no Nominee.”
Sir John Elley leaves his committee forlorn, and is sought for far and near without success:—
“Some time after, Sir John did recede,
A Bachelor passed him o’er Runnymede;
A Skeleton tall passed before his sight,
He thought the form was the good old knight;
And a death-like voice did grate on his ear—
‘We never have any corruption here;
This is sacred ground, so go back and relate,
Magna Charta has strangled your dear Candidate.’”
Two years later, another appeal to the country was impending. At the beginning of 1837, HB produced a figurative prospect of the situation, as “A New Instance of the Mute—ability of Human Affairs.” The British Constitution, that fabled “admiration of surrounding nations,” and “monument of the collective wisdom of generations,” is at last moribund: the fatal hour has arrived, and the chamber of mourning is presented to view. Mounted upon sable trestles, and covered with a rich pall, is the coffin which contains the defunct, according to the plate, “Died 1837, of the prevailing Influenza, the British Constitution of 1688, aged 149 years;” the mutes, with trappings of woe, stationed on either side of the coffin, are Lord John Russell and Spring Rice.
In March, 1837, HB gave the public a version of that appeal to the constituencies, then becoming more imminent: “Going to the Fair with It. A cant phrase for doing anything in an extravagant way—known, it is presumed, to most persons.” The three performers are in the thick of the fair, within the circle of booths; one tent has the sign of the “King’s Head,” with the Union Jack flying, another mounts the sign of “The Mitre.” Dan O’Connell is seated on the ground as a conjuror, with a paraphernalia of swords, rings, and balls—“Irish titles and appropriation clause” among the former. He is performing the “great sword-swallowing trick,” with a blade marked “Repeal.” Spring Rice, dressed as a tumbler, is balancing a block on a stick which rests on his chin. The chief attraction, the only performance which is absorbing the wonder of the entire spectators, is that of the acrobat, Lord John Russell, who is sustaining himself in the air raised on a single support, marked, “Irish Corporation Bill.” John Bull, who occupies the central position, cannot disguise his interest in the feat: “Well done, little ’un; you’ve got up a surprising height—take care how you let yourself down.” The Duke of Wellington is counselling John Bull: “These tricks are decidedly dangerous, and should not be encouraged.” Sir Robert Peel and Lord Stanley are in conference, as retired professors of conjuring. “This is the great trick now—the stilts are quite discarded.” A bishop is observing, “That man balances very inequitably.”
On the other side are grouped various critics of the performance. Lord Ebrington considers the trick “wonderful, even more astonishing than the Stilts.” Sir William Molesworth declares, “They deserve encouragement, but they don’t go half as far as they ought.” Hume also thinks, “it is very well as far as it goes!” Lord Brougham, wearing his distinguishing plaid trousers, is in conference with Mr. Roebuck as to starting an opposition show: “What do you think if we were to set up a little concern of our own: you would make a very nice little Tumbler, and I—you know, am an old hand that way!” Sir Francis Burdett, who had given some surprising performances in his time, is leaving the fair, declaring, “I can’t stand it any longer;” while his associate, Sir J. C. Hobhouse, advises him to wait a while, “Don’t go yet; the best of the sport is to come!”
The struggles, twists, and contortions of ministers to keep in place, and the involutions of “Ins and Outs,” were ably parodied, a few months before the dissolution, as the “Fancy Ball—Jim Crow Dance and Chorus” (April 17, 1837); in which the most prominent movers of both parties are travestied in fancy costumes, out-at-elbows, and with blackened faces—the likenesses admirably preserved; and executing a reel worthy of “Chimney Sweeps’ Day;” the whole arranged to the then-popular air of “Jump Jim Crow,” introduced at that time by an actor named Rice—the forerunner of the “Christy Minstrels” of a later generation. The central figures are—O’Connell, who is making a contemptuous gesture, and his partner, Lord Melbourne; Wellington and Peel are vis-à-vis; Stanley and Graham are jigging gaily together, so are Lords Abinger and Lyndhurst; Sir Francis Burdett and General de Lacy Evans are figuring back-to-back in approved Irish-jig style; and Spring Rice is getting on well to a lively measure along with Lord John Russell.
“Behold the Politician!
Out of place he’ll never go,
But to keep it, don’t he turn about
And jump Jim Crow?
“Turn about, and wheel about,
And do just so,
The only Cabinet Quadrille
Is jump Jim Crow!”
Sir Francis Burdett—the “seven-stringed Jack” and admirer of the French revolution of Gillray’s cartoons, the fiery Radical of Cruikshank’s early flashing squibs—after a career of remarkable prominence as a zealous innovator and friend of reform, quixotically riding full tilt against abuses of all kinds, was exhibiting himself, in the session about to close his old career, as a convert to fine full-bodied Tory principles. HB has pictorially given the contests the famous baronet had waged with the mighty Dan O’Connell, whose “repealing” proclivities seem finally to have opened Burdett’s eyes as to the desirability of preserving the integrity of the kingdom. His highly characteristic speech at the Westminster hustings is the best exposition of his changed opinions. In his picture of “A Fine Old English Gentleman, One of the Olden Time” (May 10, 1837), Doyle has commemorated the baronet’s final accession to the country party, by drawing Sir Francis in his familiar guise—blue coat, tightly buttoned, with swallow tails, white vest and ample white cravat, white cords, and top-boots,—seated, a prisoner in his own apartments, suffering from an attack of gout. A picture of the Tower, hung on the wall, indicates a previous episode of imprisonment, when Burdett became an inmate of that edifice (April 6, 1810); he was the last political prisoner confined there. It was felt that the baronet’s connection with Westminster was about to be severed; however, he offered himself for re-election, that his old constituents might pronounce upon his action.
The candidature of Mr. Leader formed the subject of several of Doyle’s suggestive sketches. In “Following the Leader” (May 12, 1837), HB has given a fanciful version of the candidate’s supporters impressed as boardsmen. O’Connell heads the file, with a placard “Leader for Westminster.” Lord Melbourne is advertising “Leader and Reform of the House of Lords.” Lord John Russell, as a “sandwich” man, announces “Annual Parliaments, Universal Suffrage, and Vote by Ballot;” Lord Palmerston’s board declares, “I am a Tory, and was always a Tory.” Sir William Molesworth, Hume, and others bring up the rear, with “Leader for Westminster” placards. The Duke of Wellington and Sir Robert Peel are surveying the demonstration from a distance, “These, I suppose, are some of the Pismires!”
“May Day in 1837” is another ingenious version of the political situation. The figure enclosed in the green, which is surmounted by the crown, is the king, William IV.; he is getting nervous at his situation: “I have got into a warm berth, it must be owned; indeed, it grows rather Hellish.” Melbourne makes a handsome “my lord,” and Russell’s figure just suits “my lady.” Lord Morpeth is a serviceable clown. The whole dance is performed to the drum accompaniment of Dan O’Connell. Spring Rice, as chancellor of the exchequer, is going round to John Bull for the supplies, much to the national prototype’s surprise: “You little spooney! How came you to be entrusted with the ladle, eh?” Sir Francis Burdett, still in his sweep’s disguise, is stalking off from the concern: “These ’ere fellers grow so werry wulgar that a gentlemen can’t keep company with them no longer.”
It was on this occasion that Sir Francis Burdett,—finally forsaking those Radical principles upon which he had been returned in the first instance for Westminster in 1807—for which important city he had sat until 1837,—appealed to the constituency which had elected him for thirty years, and, with that chivalrous spirit which distinguished his nature, challenged the votes of his supporters as to how far his changed politics might enlist their approval, and invited his friends to pronounce their verdict on his conduct. Upon the baronet’s appeal to his constituents, in the character of “a fine old English gentleman, all on the Tory side,” when, in May, 1837, he resigned his membership for Westminster as a Radical, and offered himself as a Tory candidate, he was opposed by John Temple Leader, a prominent Radical politician. Party feeling was considerably intensified, and ungenerous efforts were made by his late Radical colleagues to inflict the mortification of a defeat upon the reformed baronet. The famous agitator, Daniel O’Connell, whose collision with Burdett was among the chief causes of his changed opinions, exerted himself to the utmost to bring about the discomfiture of his opponent, who, in return, dealt scathing contempt upon the arch-agitator. Many political satires and squibs were produced on this occasion, and, in a literary and artistic point of view, one feature of great interest associated with this incident was the appearance of an electioneering caricature by the author of “Vanity Fair.” The Marquis of Wharton, Swift, Burns, Sir Hanbury Williams, Canning, Moore, and many eminent poets, writers, and statesmen have originated electioneering ballads, and Thackeray has associated his name with a pictorial squib; in 1837, he was, as part-proprietor and contributor, associated with the unfortunate venture (as regards the inroad its subsequent failure made on his fortune), the Constitutional and Public Ledger—a daily journal, of ultra-liberal views; and as its programme included extension of popular franchise, vote by ballot, equal civil rights, religious liberty, and short parliaments, it may be imagined that the political creed which he at that time professed inclined Thackeray to look with disfavour upon the converted Burdett as an apostate from his faith: he has expressed this view in a political satire addressed to the electors of Westminster. The picture, a quarto leaf, was presented with the Guide (May 13, 1837). It represents Sir Francis Burdett and his opponent, Leader, on the hustings, as “The Rivals; or, Old Tory Glory and Young Liberal Glory.” Sir Francis is represented as decrepit, and a martyr to the gout—another attribute of a “fine old English gentleman”—from which the baronet suffered much in later life; his foot is swathed in flannel, and crutches support him to stand; his coat is worn inside out, and a glory round his head alludes to an expression of “pismire voters” he had applied to the following of his antagonists. Beneath the picture is a further explanation of the satirist’s meaning:—
“Historical truth has compelled the artist to portray the physical infirmities which keep Sir Francis from all duties except that of dining at the Pavilion; but our readers will recollect that that infirmity is the gout—one which mankind seem, by common consent, to have determined never to regard with compassion.... A picture of the Tower is seen in the background; and Sir Francis, with a ‘glory’ of ‘pismires’ round his head, is depicted as hobbling away in his turned coat from the recollections, as from the principles, of his youth.”
In spite of his sudden conversion, the electors of Westminster held their respected member in too much veneration to inflict upon him the ignominy of rejection; the wielder of the “Herculean club,” depicted as the foremost leader among the “plebs” by George Cruikshank, who has described the object of his shafts as “the eloquent and noble Sir Francis Burdett,” was placed at the head of the poll by a majority of five hundred votes over his antagonist, Leader, who had come forward as the Radical champion to oppose his return. Sir Francis Burdett is so prominent a personage in the annals of electioneering, as well as in those of parliamentary history, that a specimen of his eloquence may not be out of place; especially as the speech which he made to his constituents after the declaration of the poll by the high bailiff of Westminster is an admirable example of the orations which may be considered appropriate to these memorable occasions on the part of the successful candidate. Sir Francis rested his firm attitude on his antipathy to see the British empire dismembered: history repeats itself, and it was on the question of “Repeal of the Union” that he broke with his party.