To the head of that sow, what a back, chine,[7] and tail![8]
Here, John, bring to Porkey[9] some milk and some meal.
Desire your mistress and Patty[10] my cousin
Come look at the mother and her baker’s dozen.[11]
How sweet is the smell of the straw in her stye![12]
It’s a mixture of oaten, and wheaten, and rye.
What an eye has this fat little creature, indeed!
But no wonder at that, ’tis the true Chinese Breed.[13]
. . . . . . . . . .
The thirteenth my dear wife has told me she means
To dress here at home, with sage[14] chopped in the brains:
And the belly,[15] she says, shall be stuffed with sweet things,
With prunes and with currants—a Dish fit for Kings:
And egg sauce[16] we will have, and potatoes,[17] and butter,
And will eat till neither one word more can we utter.
The election took place during the time of dismal depression following the humiliation of the American War. There was one branch of the service, and only one, which the country could regard with pride or even satisfaction. This was the Navy; and of all the brave men who, in that disastrous war, endeavored to uphold the honor of the British flag, Lord Hood was the popular favorite. He was at this time in his fiftieth year, and in the middle of his career. It is evident, from the silence with which the writers on the other side treated him, that it was not considered safe to attack him. Even the malignity of electioneering warfare was compelled to spare the name of Hood. He was returned, of course, and he continued to represent Westminster until the long war begun in 1793.
As regards Sir Cecil Wray, the attacks made upon him, of which we have seen some, were villainous enough to meet the case of the greatest monster or the most brazen turn-coat: they were also powerless, for the simple reason that the real foundation for attack was so extremely weak. One can already perceive, behind this onslaught of combined bludgeon and rapier, a harmless man of blameless private character; cultivated; probably rather weak; who was ill-advised when he opposed his old friend Fox, and when he brought forward Hood, a man enormously superior to himself. That he obtained so many votes and nearly defeated his opponent was due to the influence of the Court.
As for Fox, he was at this time forty-five years of age, and in the midst of his unbounded activity. At the age of nineteen he was returned for Midhurst. Before the age of twenty-five he had become a power in the House of Commons; he had run race horses; he was a notorious gambler; and had incurred debts to the total of £240,000; he was regarded as an enemy of the King and a friend of the people. We shall see what the other side could rake up against him.
“PROCESSION TO THE HUSTINGS AFTER A SUCCESSFUL CANVASS” (AFTER A PRINT A. D. 1784).
First there were questions suggested: “Did you not” say, or do, this or that; abuse Lord North and then join him; promise great things and perform nothing; buy up all the usual scribblers in the City; cringe to the electors? Then there were sarcastic reasons why Fox should be supported: the admirable economy with which he conducted his own affairs; his general consistency; his great landed estates; his hatred of gambling.
Another set of questions insinuated that he was a private friend of one Tyrle, executed for high treason in sending information to France. Virtuous indignation, of course, and not political expediency, compelled the plain and honest “Father” to ask whether the electors would vote for the “high priest of drunkenness, gaming, and every species of debauchery that can contaminate the principles we should wish to inculcate in our offspring.”