Our living chronicler, “John Jones,” says, that on the day of election, sir Solomon Hiram was “dressed like an old king, in a scarlet coat with gold lace, large sleeves with very large hanging cuffs; a wig such as George the Second wore, with large falling curls, and the tail in a silk bag: he held a roll of parchment in his hand, and looked for all the world—like a king.”
Nor must “old John Jones” himself be forgotten, for he rode as “master of the horse” at four elections in a marvellous proper dress. He was mounted on the largest dray horse that could be got, in the full regimentals of the Surrey yeomanry, grey, blue, and red: he had a cap on his head twenty-three inches high; and bore in his hand a sword seven feet long and four inches wide, like the sword of the “ancient and honourable Lumber Troop.” His boots were up to his hips, and he wore wooden spurs thirteen inches long, with steel rowels three inches in diameter. The mane of his horse was plaited with ears of corn, denoting a plentiful harvest and the coming cheapness of bread; and he had two pages to lead his horse.
The “Garrett cavalry” or troop of “horse guards,” of which “John Jones” was the commander, were forty boys of all ages and sizes, for whom flannel uniforms were purposely made, of the exact pattern of the Surrey yeomanry. They wore enormous cockades made of shavings, and were put a-straddle on horses of all sizes, and sorted thereto, as much as possible, by contraries. The smallest boys were on the largest horses, and the biggest boys on the least. It was their duty to join the candidates’ procession, and with the “master of the horse” at their head, proceed to the hustings in order “to preserve the freedom of election.”
At Richmond theatre, about thirty years ago, Foote’s “Mayor of Garratt” was performed for the benefit of Follett, a celebrated comedian and clown, and he was so happy as to secure sir Solomon Hiram, with every person who figured at Garratt, to represent the election as it had been really held just before. Sir Solomon came on the stage “just like a King,” with “old John Jones” on his right, as “master of the horse,” and “Robert Bates,” another great officer, on his left, all in their full election uniforms. The house was crowded to excess. Sir Solomon delivered all his speeches, “old John Jones” commanded and manœuvred his troop of horse, and every thing was performed that had been exhibited at Wandsworth, or on the hustings, by the real characters in the election. There was so great an audience, that the audience crowded on the stage, and it was with difficulty that the scenes were shifted.
Sir Jeffery Dunstan.
In the year 1785, sir John Harper, who had succeeded to the representation of Garrett, by the unbiassed choice of the electors, vacated his seat by death, and sir Jeffery Dunstan again became a candidate for their suffrages.
This distinguished individual was a child of chance—a foundling. He was picked up in the year 1759 at a churchwarden’s door in St. Dunstan’s in the East, and not being owned, was reared in the workhouse so as ultimately to attain about two-thirds the usual height of manhood, with knock-knees, and a disproportionately large head. At twelve years old, he was bound apprentice for nine years to the art, trade, mystery, and occupation of a green grocer; this was a long time to serve, and Jeffery, soaring to independence, adopted as a principle that “time was made for slaves, and not for freemen;” he therefore broke through time and servitude, and ran away to Birmingham. It was his pride that, though the hard labour in the factories of the “workshop of Europe” increased the malformation of his person, it added strength to his mind; and in 1776, he returned to London with his knees and ideas knocking together much more than before. He soon afterwards formed a matrimonial connection, and had two daughters, whom he called “Miss Nancy” and “Miss Dinah,” and who testified their filial politeness by uniformly calling him “papa.”