Chapter XIV (1)

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.

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.”

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.”

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.”

[_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!!”]

[_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.

“SPEECH OF SIR FRANCIS BURDETT ON HIS FINAL RETURN FOR WESTMINSTER, 1837.

“GENTLEMEN, ELECTORS OF THE CITY AND LIBERTIES OF
WESTMINSTER--

“It now becomes my pleasing task to return you my most
sincere and grateful thanks for the high honour which you
have again conferred upon me. In the first place, I have to
thank you for the arrangements that you have made, and for the
consideration you have manifested in regard to the present
state of my health, and for the relief your attention has
afforded me from those duties which would have been painful
and difficult on this great and important occasion, and which
has rendered my part in the struggle comparatively easy and
full of satisfaction. (Cheers.) Permit me to congratulate you
upon the noble, the patriotic, the independent efforts you have
made, and through you, gentlemen, to congratulate the people at
large upon the glorious triumph of the English constitution,
which has been achieved against the vain and futile efforts
of Radicalism and democracy. Gentlemen, I congratulate you
upon the firm determination you have shown to maintain all the
great and inestimable institutions of this country against the
efforts of her enemies. (Loud cheers, with faint hisses.) The
task which I have now to perform is both short and pleasant,
and I shall not now detain you, after the triumph you have
achieved and the victory you have won, merely to indulge my
own feelings of exultation and of gratification; but this I
will say, that the electors of Westminster have by the result
of their noble and patriotic exertions set an example to the
people of England, to be looked up to and followed; and in
every part of this great nation I make no doubt but that this
brilliant example will have the happy effect of sending good
men, who love their country and venerate her constitution, to
unite for their defence, and at the same time to defeat the
machinations and conspiracies of the bad. (Loud applause.) I
will not dwell on these subjects, but this much I will observe,
that you are much indebted even to your enemies for the signal
triumph you have so nobly and so gloriously achieved. (Great
cheering.) The malignity and malice of some persons have done
much to aid the cause of the constitution; but I should say
that if there is one individual to whom you are more indebted
than any other, that person certainly was Mr. Daniel O’Connell.
(Loud cheers and groans.) The attacks of that individual have
tended to serve the cause which they were designed to injure.
Gentlemen, the big beggarman of Ireland (renewed cheers)
has mistaken the good sense and patriotism of the people of
England. He has intruded himself with his uncalled-for advice
upon the electors of Westminster, and with (as it now turns
out) his disregarded threats. He has intruded that advice and
those suggestions in an Irish letter, couched in a strain more
Irish than Irish itself (loud laughter), and containing in
every point that mixture of blarney and bully, the former of
which has only excited the disgust, and the latter the contempt
of the electors of Westminster. (Loud cheers, groans, and
laughter.) I know not what influence that letter may be said
to have had upon His Majesty’s ministers; but this I know,
that the people of England, and especially the electors of
Westminster, were made of sterner stuff. Whatever His Majesty’s
ministers may think proper to do, what course they may choose
to pursue, we have shown our determination to maintain and
support the English constitution and to resist to the uttermost
the dismemberment of the British empire, notwithstanding that
Mr. Daniel O’Connell is our declared and determined foe.
(Loud cheers, with shouts of disapprobation from the ‘Leader’
party.) In addition, I will merely say that you view as I do
the attempt to control your opinions lately made by the great
popish priest-ridden paid patriot of Ireland. (Great applause
and sensation.) And I will add this, that I wish such persons
would declare and destroy themselves as he has done; no danger
could then be apprehended, as I think it would be on all
occasions safer to have such persons my foes than my friends.
(Cheers, and yellings from the ‘Leader’ party.) Gentlemen, with
these observations I shall take my leave. The sun shines upon
our principles and our affections at this moment; but there is
a still brighter sunshine in every honest English heart at the
triumph achieved by you and the example you have set to the
rest of England. (Cheers.) Wishing you all good and happiness,
and full of the devotion I owe you electors of Westminster and
to the friends to the cause of England and the constitution,
I now take my leave. (Renewed cheering, which continued for
several minutes, during which time the hon. baronet bowed to
the meeting and retired from the hustings, accompanied as he
came, by a large body of his friends and supporters.)”

The situation of Mr. Leader was illustrated by a parody of Sir E. Landseer’s picture of “The Dog and the Shadow;” the bone is Bridgwater (which seat he relinquished to contest Westminster)--the latter is inscribed on the shadow.

The sequel of the Westminster contest was given by HB as a “Race for the Westminster Stakes between an Old Thoro’bred and a Young Cock-tail--weight for age--the old ’un winning in a canter” (May 22, 1837). Lord Russell, Wellington, and others are assembled as spectators in a booth to the right. Lord Castlereagh, the jockey, is bringing in easily the high-mettled racer with Burdett’s face. Roebuck is vainly whipping and spurring “Leader,” the second horse. Hume and O’Connell are highly excited at the defeat of their favourite.

The question of a Repeal of the Union was one of a momentous order, and accordingly a considerable interest seems to have attended Burdett’s change of sides. Doyle has given a capital version of the story in “Taking up a Fare. ‘All the World’s a Stage’” (May 24, 1837). The coach represented is “Peel’s Stager;” Sir James Graham is ostler; Sir Robert Peel, as “whip,” is raising up his reins and addressing the box passenger, William IV., “We begin to load up capital well,” alluding to Burdett, the fresh customer. “You don’t say so,” remarks the king. Peel continues his reminiscences of the new inside passenger. “He as is now getting in--was formerly a great ally of the ‘Comet.’[74] He has since travelled occasionally with the ‘Mazeppa’[75] people; but, for some time back, I have missed him off the road entirely.” The Duke of Wellington, who is making everything secure, and Lord Lyndhurst are in the “boot.” Sir Francis Burdett, still lamed with the gout, is about to enter the coach; the door is held for him by Lord Stanley: “I should know your face: didn’t you once drive the ‘Darby Dilly?’ What are you doing now?” Lord Stanley (whom HB, in a former cartoon, had drawn upsetting the “Darby Dilly” in question) is touching his hat to Sir Francis, and replying, “At present, Sir, I’m with these people; but since ‘the Dilly’ was done up I haven’t had no regular engagement. I sometimes drives the ‘Conservative’ up a stage and sometimes take it down.” Lord Castlereagh appears as Burdett’s tiger.

Burdett, the ex-Radical champion, still in his congenial character of “Don Quixote,” is next shown attacking the “Lion of Democracy.” The picture of this adventure is entitled “The Last and Highest Point at which the Unheard-of Courage of Don Quixote ever did, or could arrive, with the Happy Conclusion.” “An Old Song to a New Tune” (June 17, 1837), shows the Whig wherry reduced to make great exertions to keep ahead; of the six rowers, the faces of Palmerston, Duncannon, and Melbourne are alone shown; Lord John Russell is steering. The passengers are John Bull, with an uneasy expression, seated beside the king, who is evidently upset by the motion, and looks very unwell. The parody runs--

“Row, brothers, row,
The stream runs fast,
The Raddies[76] are near,
And our daylight’s past.”

Leader’s fate over the Westminster contest (June 17, 1837) is summed up as “A Dead Horse--a Sorry Subject,--what was once a Leader in the Bridgwater Coach; supposed to have been driven to Death by his Cruel Masters.” Hume is driving off the defeated in a knacker’s cart.

“We, the People of England” (July 1837), exhibits Messrs. Hume, Roebuck, and Wakley as the “Three Tailors of Tooley Street,” all three sitting cross-legged; the former, slate in hand, is working out one of his grand historic “tottles.”

The candidature of General Evans for Westminster is summed up as “Reorganizing the Legion” (24 July, 1837). The boardmen all appear in ragged regimentals, as the remnant of the Spanish Legion, and a very woebegone set they seem; the fugleman, wearing a cocked hat, has a pictorial placard of a leader taking to flight, with the legend, “I run;” the posters appear chiefly designed to canvass “Murray for Westminster;” and General Evans is himself trying to make the file straight with his malacca cane, while crying, “Eyes right.”

Sir Francis Burdett had, in his altered politics, fought, conquered, and made his final bow at the hustings of Westminster, he being at the time in indifferent health; his return for Wiltshire was the next point of interest. How far this change of constituency suited the baronet’s own constitution is displayed by HB, who had previously exhibited the subject of his sportive humour under his gouty infirmity. “Grinding Young” (July 25, 1837) is the title of a new application of an old fancy; Burdett, broken by age and debility, with his foot swathed in flannel, showing the gouty foe triumphant, is hobbling with a crutch up the ladder which leads from “Westminster” to the wonderful mill; and, presto! an agriculturist turns the handle, and forth from the hopper emerges the baronet in his familiar guise, spick, span, and spruce, with the elastic smartness and activity of youth, he is stepping out into “North Wilts.”

An ingenious election skit appeared on Lord Durham’s appeal to the local constituency: it is entitled, “The Newest Universal Medicine” (July 27, 1837). Lord Durham appears as a compounder of quack nostrums; he wears an apron, and is standing at a counter, stirring with a pestle a mortar containing his novel mixture. Beneath it is his “Letter to the Electors of Durham,” and around are the varied ingredients of his “Universal Panacea”--such as “Conservative Opiate,” “Radical Alcohol,” with “Whig Alkali;” while all sorts of colours are ready to hand, indigo, and orange, light blue, mustard (Durham), and verdigris. While mixing his pills, Lord Durham is exclaiming “Now to extinguish that Quack Morison!” A large box stands ready for the medicament, addressed to “Daniel O’Connell, Esq., M.P., General Association and Trades-Union, Dublin;” a smaller box is directed to the Bishop of Exeter. On a chair stands a small collection of the quack compounds and remedies in boxes of various hues, and addressed to the _Times_, _Standard_, _Globe_, and _Morning Chronicle_, indicative of Lord Durham’s versatile talents and scribbling propensities.

A touching allegory for a rejected candidate was furnished by HB over these same elections. “As You like It” (July 31, 1837). The wounded and solitary deer which has come down to the brook, presents the lachrymose countenance of Roebuck; the shaft which has caused his tears is marked “Bath.” Lord John Russell, as the “Melancholy Jacques,” is, from the other side of the water, soliloquizing over the Roebuck’s fate.

Dr. Bowring is favoured with a place in Doyle’s portrait-gallery, as “The Rejected of Kilmarnock” (August 21, 1837).

Another defeat at the general election forms food for HB’s playful irony. This time it is Joseph Hume rejected by Middlesex: “Figurative Representation of the Late Catastrophe” (August 31, 1837). The Middlesex balloon is sailing majestically out of reach; the gentleman thrown out is descending at a fine pace; Joseph Hume’s parachute is blown inside out, and he is ejaculating in his fall, “Now, unless some friendly dunghill receives me, I am lost for ever.” Below him are the green plains of Erin, and the spot on which the discomfited aeronaut is descending is shown to be Kilkenny.

Daniel O’Connell pretty generally seems the master of the situation in the impressions we get of the big Liberator in Doyle’s admirable and genially humorous cartoons. In another aspect of the 1837 election, published at the same date, the great Dan is installed as passenger and traffic manager at the metropolitan head-quarters of the new railway. “Great Western General Booking Office” (August 31st) shows those gentlemen who have been so unfortunate as to miss their seats besieging O’Connell for fresh places, “Gentlemen,” he cries, with good-natured desire to assist all, “we are all full; but, if you will only wait for the next train, we shall, I have no doubt, be able to accommodate you all with seats.” The best-known of the rejected ones are clamouring round the counter: “I am afraid we are thrown out for the present,” says one; while Dr. Bowring “the rejected of Kilmarnock,” is of opinion, “It seems there is a screw loose somewhere in their principal engine.” Roebuck stands first of the unfortunates; his slight luggage is “at the end of his stick;” Hume, carpet-bag in hand, has secured a ticket, and is departing--evidently with grave misgivings--to Kilkenny. Emerson Tennent and Sir James Graham are standing at the door of the office.

The ultimate reception of Hume by Kilkenny is set forth by the same hand: “Shooting Rubbish” (August 31, 1837). Dan O’Connell, habited as an Irish peasant, has brought Hume on a hay-trolley to a thatched cabin marked “Kilkenny;” he is gently lowered on to a heap by the wayside, where, according to a notice-board, “Rubbish may be shot.” “I think,” says Dan, “that is letting you down nice and easy.” Hume is grateful for the opportune assistance: “Thank ye, friend; should you ever have occasion to come to the North, I’ll endeavour to do as much for you.”

Parliament was not summoned until November 15, 1837; in the interval, Doyle produced two or three ingenious cartoons summarizing the situation. One of the best of these represents the field of contest like the preceding versions; it is entitled, “Retzsch’s Extraordinary Design of Satan playing at Chess with Man for his Soul, copied by HB in his freest manner” (September 29, 1837). The Great Dan takes the place of the evil one, the skull and cross-bones are mounted as his ensign, and he is evidently master of the board. “Man” is personated by Lord Melbourne, who is evidently in perplexity as to his next move. Britannia is personifying man’s good angel, and she is pitifully regarding the loser.

“A Game at Chess (again): the Queen in Danger” is another version of the situation in the recess. This appeared October 20, 1837, with the quotation, “A change came o’er the spirit of my dream.” The youthful sovereign is matched against Lord Palmerston. The Queen’s political tutor and adviser, Lord Melbourne, is standing behind the chair of his royal mistress. Lord Palmerston has put the Queen in jeopardy; Her Majesty is evidently anxious, but fails to master the right move. Melbourne sees the situation, and looks on with some excitement, but is enjoined by Palmerston to refrain from prompting his royal pupil’s play.

This situation is further exemplified in two later cartoons: “Susannah and the Elders” (October 27, 1837), in which the Queen is riding between Lords Melbourne and Palmerston; the spot appears to be Brighton, near the Pavilion, then a royal residence. The other version is borrowed from the popular farce, “High Life below Stairs (inverted), as lately performed at Windsor by Her Majesty’s servants” (October 31, 1837). The Queen is seen, seated on a sofa, but partly screened from view by a curtain. Lord Melbourne, who makes a handsome “my lord duke,” is monopolizing the youthful beauty; he observes to Lord Palmerston, who is also in livery, with a cockade--“Stand off; you are a Commoner. Nothing under nobility approaches Kitty.” Lord Palmerston is not overawed by these exclusive pretensions; as a representative of the Commons, he seizes his advantage,--“And what becomes of your dignity, if we refuse the supplies?”

A pungent epitome of the incidents of electioneering is thus set forth by an anonymous poetaster:--

“ELECTION DAY-A SKETCH FROM NATURE.

“THE HUSTINGS.

“Now, hail ye, groans, huzzas, and cheers,
So grateful to electors’ ears,
Where all is riot and confusion,
Fraud, friendship, scandal, and delusion;
Now houses stormed, and windows broken,
Serve as a pastime and a token
That patriots spare not, in their zeal,
Such measures for their country’s weal.
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.
Now lampoons, idle tales, and jokes,
And placards overreach and hoax;
While blustering, bullying, and brow-beating,
A little pommeling, and maltreating,
And elbowing, jostling, and cajoling,
And all the jockeyship of polling,
And deep manœuvre and duplicity,
Prove all elections fair and free;
While _Scandalum Magnatum’s_ puzzled,
And lawless libel raves unmuzzled.”

“THE CHAIRING.

“And now the members, by freeholders,
Are mounted on the rabble’s shoulders,
To typify, that willing backs
Are made for any sort of Tax,
And kindly sent, prepared by fate,
To bear the burthens of the State.
But that elections to the mob
Might prove a right good merry job,
Down from the waving laurel bower
Descends the glittering silver shower,
And, thus, with open-handed fee,
Meant as a check to bribery,
Each new-made Senator is willing,
By many a sixpence and a shilling,
To compromise for thumps and bruises,
For broken heads and bloody noses;
For damage done by sticks and stones,
For pockets picked, and broken bones.”

One of the best pictures of a country election is due to the muse of John Sterling; a few stanzas will not be found out of place:--

“THE ELECTION.

“A POEM IN SEVEN BOOKS.

“Cox represented Aleborough, patriot pure,
On whose tried firmness Europe leant secure,
But, woe to manufactures, land, and stocks!
Europe and Aleborough could not rescue Cox.
At London’s Mansion House, the Poultry’s pride,
Cox in his country’s service din’d and died.

* * * * *

A new election! Glory to the town!
For all there’s profit, and for some renown.
‘The Lion’ opes his hungry jaws, and springs;
And ‘The Black Bear’ seems dancing as he swings.
Before an hour the Patriot Blues are met;
Though Cox is gone, the Cause shall triumph yet,
The sacred cause of right; till it prevails,
The Universe hangs trembling in the scales.
‘The Lion’ for the Blues! our flag’s unfurled,
And Mogg, instead of Cox, shall awe the world.
The big placard, with thunder in its look,
Glares like a page from Destiny’s own book;
The drums and trumpets hired augment their zeal
By strong potations till inspired they reel;
The chaises three, and omnibus immense,
Display ‘the Lion’s’ whole munificence;
And Mogg’s committee-men, a Spartan few,
To save the sinking State would die True Blue.

* * * * *

There Small, who plied dear Mistress Mogg with pills,
Prescribed her husband for a nations’ ills.
But chief of all amid that Senate wise,
Attorney Whisk had heard his country’s cries.“

Meanwhile the “Red” candidate, Frank Vane, has providentially “dropped down from the skies,” primarily for the benefit of the rival attorney Spark:--

“The Reds’ grave Nestor he, a man sedate
As ever filed a bill, or ruled a State.”

A bargain for organizing opposition is arranged between these twain:--

“Ten minutes’ converse fixed the compact’s grounds,
And Frank engaged to pay twelve hundred pounds.”

* * * * *

Next comes the personal canvassing by Squire Mogg, and the purchase of votes by direct flattery and indirect bribery:--

“From house to house Mogg’s well-fed body springs,
Helped by his patriot spirit’s ostrich wings,
With Whisk, and Small, and Snooks, a faithful few
Worth more than all a sultan’s retinue.
They point the path, the missing phrase supply,
Oft prompt a name, and hint with hand or eye,
Back each bold pledge, the fervid speech admire,
And still add fuel to their leader’s fire.”

Now as to the bribery. After purchasing a superabundance of everything he was likely to use (such as a hundredweight of soap), the candidate plunges into eccentricities recognized on these occasions:--

“By ready speech and vow, by flattery soft,
Sometimes by gifts, by promised favours oft,
He prospered well, and many a purchase made,
That helped at once the Cause and quickened Trade.
A stuffed jackdaw upon an upper shelf
Now caught his fancy, now a cup of delf;
He paid three pounds for each. A cat that tore
His fingers cost him ten, a rabbit more.”

* * * * *

All these oddities, besides fifteen old almanacks, white mice, and other worthless articles, were secured to enlist suffrages, and purchased at similarly extravagant rates; a familiar subterfuge for stultifying the Bribery Act:--

“A bishop’s worn-out wig, an infant’s caul,--
Were paid for down, and sent to Harrier Hall.”

“The Rights of Women; or, a View of the Hustings with Female Suffrage, 1853.” George Cruikshank, whose hand was turned to the illustration of nearly every event which occurred in his long career, had produced election satires like his contemporaries at the beginning of the century. Later on, we find him turning his somewhat waning vigour to utilize the agitation for “Female Enfranchisement,” which, as a branch of “Women’s Rights,” appears to have come before the public in 1852-3. A fanciful and farcical prospect of the hustings when lady voters should rule the day presents the rival aspirants pictured as “The Ladies’ Candidate” and “The Gentlemen’s Candidate.” The latter is quite left to desolation. “Screw-driver, the Great Political Economist,” beyond his boardmen, stands alone. Although a placard is mounted advising the electoral community not to vote for “Ignorant puppies,” the “Champion of the Fair” seems to have a lively time of it; Cupid, or his representative, upholds the appeal, “Vote for Darling and Parliamentary Balls Once a Week;” the committee and supporters of Sir Charles are ladies, apparelled in the height of the fashions for 1852. Behind the tigerish candidate for parliamentary honours is a group of melancholy troubadours, travestied much as Cruikshank and Thackeray used to depict those worthy guitar-strummers at the now-obsolete “Beulah Spa.” Great unanimity prevails in the mob; not only are the newly enfranchised fair ones giving their own votes, they go farther, and coerce the sterner sex, for all the well-regulated males are brought forward, under the influence of beauty, to record their votes for the chosen of the ladies. On the extreme left is seen one forlorn individual who has evidently lingering doubts of Sir Charles’s programme, or an inclination to support the political economist, “Ugly Old Stingy;” but his wife is forcibly arguing him into an obedient frame of mind. The voters all carry bouquets and wear extensive favours. “Husband and Wife” voters are arrived first at the poll; and, following a mounted champion “in armour clad” with a heart for his device, comes the last section of “Sweetheart Voters,” the “male things” docilely following the mistresses of their affections. “The Friends of Sir Charles Darling are Requested to Meet this Evening at the Assembly Rooms--the Hon. Mrs. Manley in the Chair. Tea and Coffee at 7 o’clock.” Even Cruikshank’s imagination had not risen to the elevation of lady candidates for senatorial as well as electoral honours, or he would doubtless have favoured the public with some original (pictorial) views on this question.

The general election which took place in July, 1857, found two famous men in the annals of literature contesting for senatorial honours, when W. M. Thackeray and his friend James Hannay were hopefully canvassing, on opposite political platforms, two constituencies, the former for Oxford, the latter for Dumfries, which his father, the Scotch banker, had unsuccessfully fought in the Conservative interest at the successive general elections of 1832 and 1835.

James Hannay again discovered, in 1857, that the electors of Dumfries remained consistent to Whig principles. The novelist and essayist was beaten at the hustings; but he has left something more characteristic than the average of parliamentary orations in the delightful essay upon “Electioneering,” contributed to the _Quarterly Review_, with the writing of which the defeated candidate immediately consoled himself for his recent disappointment.

The canvassing rejoiced Hannay’s enthusiastic temperament. The varieties of the genus voter are so infinite that his eye for character was constantly studying original types; he discovered that the work is hard, and that the qualities a good canvasser must combine are as various as the dispositions he has to encounter.

“He must have unwearied activity, imperturbable good temper,
popular manners, and a wonderful memory. Every person who has
made a trial of electioneering can testify to the exhaustion
and fatigue of the first canvass, the swarm of new faces
seen and flitting through the mind in strange confusion, the
impossibility of distinguishing between the voter who had a
leaning to you, but doubted your fidelity to the Maynooth
Grant, and his next-door neighbour who was coming round to you
against his former prejudice, because of your freedom from
religious bigotry. The mental eye wearies of the kaleidoscope
that has been turning before it for hours. The hand aches with
incessant shaking. The head aches with incessant observation.
You fling yourself wearied at nightfall into an easy chair
in your committee-room, and plunge eagerly into sherry and
soda-water. You could lie down and sleep like a general after
a battle. But your committee is about to meet, as a staring
blue bill on the hotel wall informs the public; and a score of
people have news for you. Tomkins, the hatter, is wavering--a
man who can influence four or five; the enemy have set going a
story that you beat your wife, and you must have a placard out
showing that you are a bachelor. A gang are drinking champagne
at the Blue Boar (one of the enemy’s houses), fellows whose
potations are usually of the poorest kind; your opinion is
wanted on a new squib; the manager of the theatre is below,
waiting to see if you will patronize his theatre with an early
‘bespeak night,’ and whether you will have ‘Black-Eyed Susan,’
or ‘Douglas;’ a deputation of proprietors of donkeys wants to
hear your views on the taxation of French asses’ milk. Who,
under such circumstances, can retain in his memory all the
details of the canvass of the day?”

However galling the temporary disappointment experienced by Hannay and Thackeray respectively, their readers had no reason to regret that, as the great novelist wrote, philosophically accepting his defeat, “they were sent back to take their places with their pens and ink at their desks, and leave their successful opponents to a business which they understood better.” The test of tact and temper was certainly applied to the two novelists when competing for seats in the Commons.

Thackeray aspired to take the place in Parliament for the city of Oxford which his friend Neate, at the time Professor of Political Economy in that university, had lost for an alleged contravention of the Corrupt Practices Act, thus described by Thackeray at the hustings: “He was found guilty of twopennyworth of bribery which he never committed.” This was Thackeray’s ostensible motive for his candidature: “A Parliament which has swallowed so many camels, strained at that little gnat, and my friend, your representative, the very best man you could find to represent you, was turned back, and you were left without a man. I cannot hope, I never thought, to equal him; I only came forward at a moment when I felt it necessary that some one professing his principles, and possessing your confidence, should be ready to step into the gap which he had made.”

The author of the electioneering squib directed for “Young Liberal Glory” as against “Old Tory Glory” in 1837, was, twenty years later, found consistently advocating the Liberal principles which had inspired his early writings in the _Constitutional_. Thackeray appeared as an advocate of the ballot, was “for having people amused after they had done their worship on a Sunday;” while, “as for triennial Parliaments, if the constituents desire them, I am for them.”

The following passages from his address enlightened the electors of Oxford upon Thackeray’s political convictions:--

“I would use my best endeavours not merely to enlarge the
constituencies, but to popularize the Government of this
country. With no feeling but that of goodwill towards those
leading aristocratic families who are administering the chief
offices of the State, I believe it could be benefited by the
skill and talent of persons less aristocratic, and that the
country thinks so likewise.... The usefulness of a member of
Parliament is best tested at home; and should you think fit to
elect me as your representative, I promise to use my utmost
endeavour to increase and advance the social happiness, the
knowledge, and the power of the people.”

One point in his speech at the hustings, a characteristic allusion to the paramount influence of the Marlborough dukes, for many generations masters of the Oxford elections, was in the true Titmarshian vein, and worthy of the occasion:--“I hear that not long since--in the memory of many now alive--this independent city was patronized by a great university, and that a great duke, who lived not very far from here, at the time of the election used to put on his boots, and ride down and order the freemen of Oxford to elect a member for him.” By a curious coincidence, not altogether reassuring, Thackeray’s reputation at Oxford had somehow failed to reach the majority with whom he was thrown into contact, as one of his committee-men has assured the writer. They mainly asserted that “he could not speak,” to which the candidate retorted “he knew that, but he could write.” Unaccountable as it appears, the fame of his writings had not, in those days, penetrated to any extent this short distance, as the novelist learned by direct and disenchanting experience. He said, in his valedictory remarks, “Perhaps I thought my name was better known than it is.” This illusion, natural in itself, ought to have been dispelled by a former revelation of unsuspected ignorance, which, though unflattering to the author, had, as related by the sufferer, its ludicrous side. Thackeray had betaken himself to Oxford on a previous occasion, with the intention of addressing his lectures on “The English Humorists” to the rising youth at Alma Mater, and, as it was necessary to obtain the licence of the university authorities, he waited upon the chancellor’s resident deputy, who received him blandly.

“Pray, what can I do to serve you, sir?” inquired the
functionary. “My name is Thackeray.” “So I see by this card.”
“I seek permission to lecture within the precincts.” “Ah! you
are a lecturer. What subjects do you undertake--religious or
political?” “Neither; I am a literary man.” “Have you written
anything?” “Yes; I am the author of ‘Vanity Fair.’” “I presume
a Dissenter. Has that anything to do with John Bunyan’s book?”
“Not exactly. I have also written ‘Pendennis.’” “Never heard of
those works; but no doubt they are proper books.” “I have also
contributed to _Punch_.” “_Punch!_ I have heard of that. Is it
not a ribald publication?”