| 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:—