SATIRES ON THE PARLIAMENTARY ELECTIONS OF 1754.
A favourite figure with the satirists was to portray wily party
manœuvrers as vermin-catchers, and those apostate representatives
who were ready to sell themselves and their parliamentary trust were
displayed as the spoils of their craft. A cartoon appeared at the
time of these elections reflecting upon the tricks of administration.
It will be seen that nearly all these early caricaturists seem
disinterested, as their subjects oppose the dispensers of patronage.
The engraving shows the Duke of Newcastle seated beside St. Stephen’s
Chapel, and fishing for partisans among the late members, and, in
anticipation, bidding for the adherence of the possible representatives
in the coming parliament; this subject is entitled, “The Complete
Vermin-Catcher of Great Britain; or, the Old Trap new baited.” The
minister’s line is dropped through the chimney of St. Stephen’s, and
is baited with _Titles_, _Bribes_, _Places_, _Pensions_, _Secret
Commissions_, and patronage in _Army_, _Navy_, and _Excise_. The
intriguing duke, who was a proficient in corrupting others, and spent
a large fortune in electioneering wiles, is observing, “All Vermin
may be caught, tho’ differently, suit but the Bait to their various
appetites. But there’s a species will take no Bait; would I could scare
them away; as they’re not Vermin, they will not answer my purpose.”
The greedy place-hunters are swarming plentifully, and are offering to
do any amount of dirty work, to “push for posts,” “Jews and no Jews,”
being indifferent to everything but profit. The Pelhams, unscrupulous
themselves, were past-masters of the art of finding venal tools. It is
disclosed in the diary of Bubb Dodington (Lord Melcombe-Regis), the
manager of the Leicester House intrigues, and himself an accomplished
adept in dissimulation, how disreputably the Duke of Newcastle
contrived to secure Bubb’s parliamentary influence (six seats) “for
nothing!”
The corrupt character of a large average of those sent to the Commons
as representatives of the people was in perfect keeping with the no
less greedy boroughmongers who found them seats and the mercenary
voters, their constituents by presumption; what a man bought--and
in those days almost everything political had its price and was
purchasable--he held himself justified in selling when the chance
occurred. A satirical rendering of the imperfections then supposed to
affect the body of the senate appeared at the time of these elections
of 1754, when, by wholesale bribery, the Administration was, at an
enormous cost, doing its utmost to degrade the entire system of
representation:--“Dissection of a Dead Member (of Parliament).” The
subject is extended upon a table for autopsy, five surgeons have
severally examined the different functions, and the results of their
post-mortem inspection is thus stated:--
_1st Doctor._ The Brain is very foul and muddy, it has a
Contusion, or, as it may be called, a soft place in it, locked
in the stone kitchen by way of qualification.
_2nd Doctor._ Ay, ay, he knocked his head too hard against
politics and bruisified his pericranium. He was bred a
Foxhunter.
_3rd Doctor._ The _Vena Cava_ of the _Thorax_ makes a noise,
and sounds as if one should say, “My country be damn’d,” and
his intestines have got, I think, ’tis “Bribery,” wrote on
them--not a drop of good blood in his heart.
_4th Doctor._ Bribery, the _Auri Sacra fames_ of the
ancients--ay ’twas a diet he was fond of, ’twas his Breakfast,
Dinner, and Supper, and affected all the corpuscles of his
corporeal system, it was his _Insanible Membrum_.
_5th Doctor._ There’s a most potent Fœtor exhales as if the
whole body was corrupted--if the bones are touched it won’t
make an Anatomy.
The elections of 1754 are rendered more interesting to later
generations from the circumstance that the famous series of paintings
by Hogarth, better known by the engravings as the “Four Plates of
an Election,” owe their origin to the electoral contests which
ensued on the parliamentary dissolution, April 8, 1754. Before that
date the tendency of events was shadowed forth. For instance, Henry
Pelham, a pupil of Walpole’s, who combined the offices of first lord
of the treasury and chancellor of the exchequer, passed the Jews’
Naturalization Bill in June, 1753, chiefly by his own exertions;
but reaping thereby an enlarged measure of unpopularity--sufficient
to jeopardize his party and his future career, if not to extinguish
the political prospects of the Pelhams beyond rehabilitation--this
detrimental concession was recalled, and, in the face of a general
election and its possible eventualities, the Bill was repealed. The
hostile feeling provoked by the measure in question still remained,
and although the principal agent on its introduction had himself
departed, it exercised, as will be seen in the political satires, much
influence over the elections of 1754, in the way of helping the return
of fresh opposition candidates, and defeating ministerial nominees.
Henry Pelham, the prominent figure of the administration, expired in
the full tide of his unpopularity. That enmity--consequent upon his
acts--followed him to the tomb is illustrated by a spirited caricature,
published on his death, and disclosing the probable reception which
awaited the late premier on the other side of the Styx. “His Arrival at
his Country Retirement and Reception,” March 6, 1754 (the anniversary
of Pelham’s decease). In this etching Henry Pelham is entering on
his future state, introduced to the infernal regions by a demon
chamberlain. The “salle des pas perdus,” is not so easy as anticipated;
Pelham is observing to his conductor:--“It was much easier walking in
the Treasury. I hope my successor finds it so.” The ghosts of departed
statesmen are variously greeting the arrival of the latest addition
to their class. His predecessor, Sir Robert Walpole, is welcoming a
worthy pupil: “O, this is a child of my own bringing up. I found him a
promising Genius for dirty work, I therefore did all I could to gain
him the succession at my retirement hither, knowing that some of his
black strokes would make me appear as fair as alabaster. He has done
it in several respects, but chiefly in getting the Naturalization of
the Jews passed,--have any of you great Genius’s done anything equal?”
The spirit of Judge Jeffreys is declaring, “All my transactions in
the West were but a joke to that great achievement.” The disembodied
Cardinal Wolsey is observing, “Is that the choice spirit you have so
often described? I made pretty large strides towards making the people
swallow down what I thought proper--but this beats all my ‘_Ego et Rex
Meus’s_’ out of doors!” A shade affirms, “We are all puny statesmen to
him;” and the most astute politicians of history are voted beginners
beside Pelham--“If you, old Machiavel, had known him in your days, he’d
a’ lent you a lift.”
In the elections which were held in April, 1754, the Court seems
to have experienced less opposition than might have been expected;
for although the spirit of the antagonistic “Leicester House party”
had been damped by the death of the Prince of Wales, which occurred
unexpectedly in March, 1751, it now showed signs of reviving.
The contest for the City of London gave rise to several interesting
caricatures. The humours of canvassing are displayed in “The
Liveryman’s Levée” (April, 1754), which represents an elector, a
self-sufficient tailor, with his vulgar wife. The pair are receiving
the obsequious bows of five of the candidates, who, in 1754, put up for
the City of London. The absence of Sir John Barnard, the celebrated
city patriot, is professionally marked by a suit hanging on the
wall,--“A Plain Suit of Broadcloth for Sir John Steady.” The liveryman
is insolently resenting the independence of the favourite candidate:
“Where’s Sir John? I think he is greatly wanting in his duty. Does
he imagine that a man of my figure is to be trifled with? Don’t he
know that we expect to be waited on?” There are other allusions to the
recommendations for and objections against the respective candidates.
As the dissolution of parliament approached, satirical views of the
situation became numerous, and there appeared various well-executed
caricatures upon the subject of the city election. In “The City Up
and Down; or, the Candidates Pois’d,” the candidates were represented
perched upon suspended boxes, part of a huge revolving machine. Sir
John Barnard, Slingsby Bethel, and William Beckford are occupying the
upper seats; they had represented the city in the last parliament, and,
as there were no objections against their names, their re-election was
considered secure. In a side box is Sir Richard Glyn, who was defeated;
in another, somewhat lower, is Sir Robert Ladbrooke, a new candidate,
who was successful; below these is a fourth box, in which are Sir Crisp
Gascoyne and Sir William Calvert; the latter, though one of the former
representatives, secured the fewest votes in 1754. The reason for
this falling-off in favour is explained by the caricature; Calvert is
surrounded by Jews, who are assuring him:--“You have all our interest,
for your zealous support of our Bill!”--“Confound your Bill; now I
have no hope left,” replies Sir William, whose exertions on behalf of
this measure lost him his seat. Barnard is declaring, “I am, strictly
speaking, neither a friend to the Jews nor their enemy; excepting when
they aim at having equal Rights and Privileges with my fellow-citizens
and countrymen.” While the inflexible Beckford, who later was Lord
Chatham’s “mouth-piece in the Commons,” asserts, “It becomes a Man of
Character to keep good Company.” Ladbrooke, who was a distiller, is
declaring he “should like to be in good company too,” but “fears it
will be with the two kings”--“The King of the Jews” being Calvert the
brewer, and Gascoyne, “King of the Gipsies.” There are allusions to
the occupations of the candidates; the voters are declaring, “If the
gin-merchant [Ladbrooke] gets in, gin will be cheaper.” Other electors
refer to Gascoyne and Calvert as “two very good beer-makers.” On
the opposite side of the river is shown Sampson Gideon, a prominent
financier of his day, and afterwards knighted,--he is conducted by
Satan, and his hat is filled with gold for purposes of bribery; he is
eager to tamper with the balance of the boxes in the “great Up and Down
machine;”--“If I was over I would turn the poise, though it cost me the
profits of the last Lottery.” Gideon was a strenuous supporter of those
who voted for the Jews’ Naturalization Bill, and, before the repeal of
that measure, held hopes of getting into parliament. He is frequently
alluded to in the electioneering squibs of the time. That he had
substantial reasons for interesting himself in behalf of those in power
appears from the “Report of the Committee appointed to investigate
the Lottery of 1753,” where it is stated that “Sampson Gideon became
proprietor of more than six thousand tickets, which he sold at a
premium.” Preference allotments, being highly profitable, were useful
as administrative patronage.
The city election is further illustrated by an engraving called, “A
Stir in the City; or, some Folks at Guildhall,” which represents
various groups of citizens and persons prominent at the time, assembled
before the Guildhall, while the six candidates are borne along on
a long frame with six seats, and supported on men’s shoulders, the
procession being headed by a bishop; the party is received in state by
the sheriffs, who are assuring the prelate, “as my Lord Rabbi,” that
“the Guildhall is not the Synagogue,” and “no sons of Levi have place
here;”--in general, the bishops supported the Naturalization Bill.
Dr. Ward, then before the public as an advertizing pill-vendor, is
from his coach distributing quack nostrums; he is acknowledging that
“not one will cure an Election Fever.” Gascoyne and Mary Squires, the
gipsy, crooked and leaning on her staff, are represented, with Hogarth
beside them; this refers to the charges against Squires brought by
Elizabeth Canning, and proved false on further investigation by Sir C.
Gascoyne, who retired from the city canvass, and successfully contested
Southwark. Candidates for Hertford, Winchester, and other places are
also introduced. A group of Jews stand by the Guildhall; one cries,
“What a shame it is we have no votes!” Sampson Gideon is present, and
another is confidentially remarking to him, “Tho’ you can’t vote,
Sampson, you may still do business there;” to which the contractor
replies, in reference to his expectation of sitting in parliament had
the Act to remove the disabilities of the Jews continued in force,
“I thought to have voted in another Building;” while a lean Hebrew
neighbour whispers, “You have an excellent hand at a Lottery, all the
world knows.” Orator Henley, standing in his tub, is recommending
his butcher friends from Newport Market to convert the voters into
Jews; and a hawker is crying, “Sir Andrew Freeport’s Address [to the
Livery of London] for nothing.” The state of the polls for London and
Oxfordshire are also given.
Of the six candidates carried in chairs, two and two, Sir John
Barnard (at the head of the poll, 3553), is saying, “These are my
fellow-citizens; I must not forsake them in my old age, for I always
loved them.” Slingsby Bethel (3547), as president of the Free British
Fishery Society, promises “the Herring Fishery shall thrive.” Beckford
(2941) is made to declare, “I’ll vote for a new Bridge [Blackfriars];
but not for a new Jew Bill.” Sir R. Ladbrooke (3390) is present, and so
are the defeated candidates, Sir Richard Glyn, and, at the bottom of
the poll, Sir W. Calvert, with the Jew Bill in his pocket--for which he
asserts he “only voted!”
A further explanation of the allusions conveyed in this satire is
afforded by the verses which accompanied the design:--
“O! see my Raree Show, good Folks,
All you who love Election Jokes,
You, John a Stiles! and John a Nokes,
Doodle, Doodle, Do.
“See Mr. Sheriff with his wand
Has put the Bishop at a stand,
Who takes Guildhall for Holy Land.
“There’s Sampson, full of discontent,
Because he’s not in Parliament;
Which was his very heart’s Intent.
“See Henley, with his surgeons there,
For Jew conversion all prepare,
Butchers cure cases, I declare.
“Sir Andrew Freeport has his eye
Upon the List and the Livery,
Fox, Barnard, Bethel, Beckford cry.
“A Beauty, Mistress Squires, see,
For Mr. Hogarth and I agree,
Beauty’s a Lane as crooked as she.
“There Doctor Ward, with looks demure,
Is giving his pills, but he is sure
Election fevers have no cure.”
The struggle for election was also epitomized under the popular
paraphrase of a race-course: “The Parliamentary Race; or, the City
Jockies” (April, 1754). Sir John Barnard is first on “Steady,” Mr.
Slingsby Bethel is second on “Buzzard;” Sir R. Ladbrooke on “Trimmer,”
and William Beckford on “Will o’ the Wisp,” are making great exertions
to cut out Sir Richard Glyn on “Little Driver,” who is flogging his
horse to keep the third place, which he ultimately lost, his name
standing fifth at the close of the poll; Sir Crisp Gascoyne is left
behind with “Miss Canning;” Sir William Calvert has come to grief,
his horse, “Loose Legs,” having stumbled over a Jew pedlar, and, with
the rider, been thrown out of the race. The contest is witnessed by
horsemen, gentlemen on foot occupying the stand which the horses must
pass, and the usual crowd of spectators present on a race-course,
including an itinerant gin-seller dispensing spirits to workmen, in
allusion to the distiller, Sir R. Ladbrooke. Various observations are
made on the chances of the race: “Old Steady [Barnard] is in first!”
“Buzzard [Bethel] will blunder in second!” “Will o’ the Wisp [Beckford]
has blood in him!” and other comments, as indicated above. The state of
the “Parliamentary Stakes” is expounded in a copy of verses, possibly a
parody after one of Tom D’Urfey’s odd ditties:--
“THE PARLIAMENTARY RACE; OR, THE CITY JOCKIES.
“O! Shade of D’Urfey, grant me Vit-a
To sing those Jockies of the city,
Who want in Parliament to get-a
Doodle, Doodle, Do.
“First comes Sir John, who wins the day;
His horse is ready to run away,
Nor will at all for ‘Loose Legs’ stay.
“But who is he on that scrambling Brute?
What, don’t you know, Sir, ’tis past dispute?
O! that is Alderman Orator Mute.
“Who flogs so hard, the third to be in?
O, that is a Knight, Sir Richard Glyn,
And ‘Little Driver,’ too, will win.
“O! see how he spins there, ‘Will of the Wisp’-a,
He’ll distance ‘Miss Canning,’ and Sir Crisp-a,
And all the Broomstaffs of the Gipsy.
“‘O! Damn the Jew,’ Sir William cries,
As o’er his horse he headlong flies.
Ay, that damn’d Jew threw dust in his Eyes.
“Sir Robert upon his ‘Trimming Nag’
Has too much spirit too long to lag,
He soon will pass the distance-flag.
“O! where’s ‘Miss Canning’? Out of sight,
Ay, her best strokes are in the night,
Now bring her up--or never, Knight.”
The summary of both the London and the Oxfordshire contests, which
were regarded by ministers as of the utmost consequence, are given
pictorially in a carefully engraved print, entitled “All the World
in a Hurry; or, the Road from London to Oxford,” April, 1754. At
the extremities of the plate are views of the respective cities; to
these the candidates and their supporters are proceeding on horse and
foot, by two opposite lines of road. To the right, where the London
cavalcade may be taken to commence, the largest mounted figure, and
that nearest the spectator, is intended for Sir John Barnard, the head
of the poll, who is trotting along at a steady pace, contented with
his progress: “My steed is slow, but sure, Sir Robert.” Sir Robert
Ladbrooke, who is urging on his own career, replies, “What! without a
spur, Sir John?”--Barnard having resorted to no election manœuvres,
and not even canvassed the voters. Alderman Slingsby Bethel, jogging
along comfortably in his gig, is observing; “I’ll leave my Election
to the Arbitration of the Livery.” Sir Richard Glyn’s pace, in a
post-chaise and pair, is checked by a group of pedestrians in the
pathway; “What the Devil can’t you get before the Jews, Tom?” he is
inquiring of his postillion, who replies, “They are in possession of
the Road, Sir Richard:” Glyn, although for some time third in the
voting, finally failed in his election. Also behind the group of
foot-passengers are two prosperous-looking personages on horseback,
Sir William Calvert and William Beckford, both late members for the
city; the former is bantering his companion, “You won’t be first at
Guildhall, Brother Beckford;” the famous patriot was returned third
on the poll at the election of 1754: his rival retorts, alluding to
Calvert’s position at the previous contest, “Nor you second, Sir
William;” the support Calvert had lent the Jews’ Naturalization Bill
was the cause of his being rejected in 1754. In the centre of the
group of Hebrew obstructives is a stout man, mopping his forehead and
complaining, as he drags along wearily, “Verily, England is too hot at
this time of the year!”--this figure represents Sir Sampson Gideon,
the loan contractor, who is surrounded by his co-religionists. One
long-bearded Israelite is crying that “Sampson refuses to sweat a
little for our friend Sir William!” (Calvert); another Jew declares,
“Sir William has been sweated often on our account;” and a third is
saying, “We must give him a little Grease for once” (_i.e._ spend
money to further his election),--this refers to the encouragement the
Jews offered Sir William Calvert, support rendered in return for his
assistance in passing the Jews’ Naturalization Bill, which nearly cost
the ministry their working majority, while one of the city members,
Calvert, the great brewer of the day, lost both his popularity and his
place in parliament. This measure had been passed by the Pelhams in
the last session, and, until its repeal, Sampson Gideon looked forward
to a seat as a representative of the City of London. On the eve of
the dissolution the ministers had repealed their unpopular Bill, and
this concession to public opinion was regarded as an electioneering
stratagem on their part. At the other end of the London group is Sir
Crisp Gascoyne, who gave up his candidature for the city, and put
up for Southwark, where he was rejected. At this time Sir Crisp was
labouring under undeserved disfavour owing to his exertions to procure
the conviction of Elizabeth Canning, the perjuress, for a false
accusation against the gipsy, Mary Squires, who was, through Canning’s
devices, condemned to death, but was subsequently pardoned, after
Gascoyne’s investigation had established her innocence, and the true
facts were made public. The case in question, which was not cleared up
at the time of the elections, was the cause of that unpopularity which
cost Sir Crisp his seat; in the engraving, he is made to exclaim, “Why,
where are you, Mother Squires, with your infernal troop?”--Squires was
alleged to be a witch! A friend riding beside him is pointing upwards,
“Infernal! Sir Crisp? why, they are up in the air yonder!”--indicating
a witch and three weird sisters riding on broomsticks over the heads
of the parliamentary cavalcade. The leader, intended for the gipsy, is
exclaiming, “I am afraid we are too late, sisters.” The spectators
are standing aside to let the procession pass; one is shouting bravely
for the “tried members, Barnard and England for ever, huzza!” and
two others are abusing Gideon’s friends, who have hindered Calvert’s
election. “Damn the Jews! they are always in the way,” “Turn ’em out of
the Road.” A copy of verses further elucidates the subject:--
[Illustration: ALL THE WORLD IN A HURRY; OR, THE ROAD FROM LONDON TO
OXFORD. 1754.
[_Page 134._]
“LONDON.
“‘O! what! without a spur, Sir John,
And yet your steed is getting on?’
‘The steed is a good one I’m upon.’
“Says Madame Squires, in the air,
‘Our friend Sir Crisp need never fear--
Tho’ we are late, we will be there.’
“Sir William is not first, ’tis true,
Nor Barnard second, tho’ True Blue,
Glyn will be third--Jack! what say you?
“If there is an honest man in the nation
’Tis Bethel, I’ll say it without hesitation,
Nor leave it even to his own arbitration.”
The half of the engraving of “All the World in a Hurry,” having
reference to the Oxfordshire elections, may be taken as an introduction
to Hogarth’s famous series of “The Election;” the actual candidates,
besides the contest, being set forth in this earlier version.
The two horsemen galloping in advance of their competitors represent
Lord Wenman and Sir James Dashwood, the “True Blue” candidates, who
gained the head of the poll, and were returned as “sitting members,”
but were afterwards, “on a controverted election petition,” displaced
to make room for Lord Parker and Sir Edward Turner, the representatives
of the ruling party, who had been supported from the first with the
entire government interest, and by a decision of the House of Commons
were ultimately seated.
In the engraved version of this spirited competition, Lord Wenman is
made to remark, “They are not far behind us, Sir James;” to which
Dashwood responds, “Too far, my lord, to get up with us.” That every
exertion was made is illustrated by the driver of the post-chaise
which contains the ministerial nominees; the Duke of Marlborough,
as postillion, is declaring “his jades, _i.e._ the voters, begin
to kick”--the elections for Oxfordshire having been in the control
of the Marlborough family at former elections; and, in fact, the
same influence was so preponderating, that no opposition after the
election of 1754, now in question, was offered in the county until
1826,--another Sir G. Dashwood was unsuccessful in the Whig interest
in 1830. Sir Edward Turner and Lord Parker are in the ministerial
post-chaise; the duke is proposing to throw over one of his
nominees--“Sir Edward, you had better get out;” his colleague, however,
is resisting this desertion--“You won’t leave me single, Sir Edward?”
The latter is trying to spur their postillion forwards: “Push hard, my
Lord Duke, or we shan’t get in.” Two Whig notabilities are riding at a
distance; one is observing, “Sir James [Dashwood] and my Lord [Wenman]
have got ground on ’em;” his neighbour is confidently replying, “Ay,
and they’ll keep it, my boys.”
Last comes the great man of the administration, driving his phaeton
and six. He bids a mounted messenger to “ride forward, and tell my
Lord Duke I would have been with him, but my horses took fright at
a funeral, and won’t pull together;” the Duke of Newcastle is the
person represented, and the circumstance to which he attributes
the restiveness of his six-in-hand was the death, just before the
dissolution of parliament, of his brother Henry Pelham, a man of
superior abilities to the duke, who had filled the same offices with a
better hold on his team.
“OXFORD.
“From London into Oxford Town,
See all the world is hurrying down,
Dashwood and Wenman for a crown.
Doodle, Doodle, Do.
“The Duke of Newcastle in his Fly
Cannot get up to his grace; for why?
The Funeral! Ah! men will die.
“Sir Edward in the chaise you see;
‘Get out, Sir Edward!’ ‘O, no!’ says he;
‘What,’ cries my Lord, ‘must I single be?’
“‘My jades begin to kick,’ says his Grace;
‘Sir, you had better leave the place,
And never look them in the face.’”
The elections in Oxfordshire were marked by a more animated conflict
than elsewhere; the Jacobite faction was still strong there, although
the comparatively recent fate of those who had declared for the
Pretender served to keep these sympathies within discreet limits.
The contest was strongly marked by incidents which have survived
in the four famous election pictures painted by William Hogarth,
the unequalled originals of which, still in fine condition, are now
somewhat lost to the public in Sir John Soane’s Museum,[44] but of
which the engravings are most familiar. Hogarth sold the series to
his friend David Garrick for the modest price of 200 guineas; at the
sale of Mrs. Garrick’s effects, in 1823, they were secured by Sir
John Soane for the corresponding moderate sum of £1732 10_s._ The
“Election Entertainment” was exhibited at Spring Gardens in 1761.
These characteristic satires seem to apply to electioneering episodes
in general, not only of the eighteenth century, but until within the
present; a recapitulation of the principal allusions, however, will
show that these pictures are composed of studies for the most part
drawn from life, and founded on the actualities of the 1754 contest
in Oxfordshire. The “Election Entertainment,” the first of these
plates, is so well known that it was felt unnecessary to reproduce any
of its incidents. This scene might he taken as a generalistic view
of the electioneering hospitality and “open house,” one of the first
steps towards conciliating support, but that the three “party-cries”
distinctive of this particular struggle are all pictorially
perpetuated. The scene embodies gluttony, turbulence, and false
patriotism, but bribery and violent intimidation prevail above all.
The mayor, who occupies the seat of honour, has succumbed to a surfeit
of oysters, and a phlebotomist of the barber tribe is endeavouring to
blood his arm and cool his head at one time. A ministerial-looking
personage is treated with coarse familiarity, while a youthful aspirant
for popular favour is submitting to tipsified indignities at the hands
of his temporary associates. Nichols, who mentions certain assurances
he received from Hogarth as to the fact that, with one exception, none
of the figures were intended for portraits, affects to recognize the
handsome candidate.[45] This modish gentleman has been treating the
fair sex to gloves, buff or orange favours, and other gear, from the
pack of a pedlar of the Hebrew persuasion, who is also dealing in notes
of hand; he holds one for £20 from the candidate, signed “R. Pention”
(Pension being the word). While the Court party is regaling the Buffs,
or Old Interest, at the leading tavern, their opponents, the Blues, are
making an out-of-door demonstration; so that a view of the humours of
both sides is simultaneously afforded. The New Interest procession is
composed of “bludgeon-men,” bearing an effigy of the Duke of Newcastle,
with the colours of the Old Interest, and a placard round his neck,
“No Jews,” in allusion to the unpopular Act introduced by the Pelhams
(1752) to permit the naturalization of foreign Jews. Another cry,
inscribed on a blue standard, is “Liberty and Prosperity,” while a
huge blue flag bears the inscription, “Increase and multiply in spite
of old ----,”[46] in reference to the recent Act for the regulation of
marriages, which had encountered much opposition and given offence to
the multitude. An animated exchange of missiles between the political
antagonists is proceeding through the window; those within are
standing a siege from showers of bricks, to which they are replying
with a volley of fluids and furniture showered on the heads of the
passing patriots; while a rival detachment of Old Interest hirelings,
displaying their orange cockades, being armed with oak cudgels, and
headed by a partisan with a drawn sword, is sallying forth to make a
diversion on the besiegers. A champion Orange bludgeon-man, seated on
the floor in the foreground, has evidently returned from a raid on
the foe, in which he has had his head broken, but he has succeeded
in carrying off one of the obnoxious blue standards. A butcher, with
a “Pro Patria” favour twisted round his head, is pouring gin upon
the bruiser’s cracked cranium, which he has first plastered with a
“Your vote and interest” card; the doughty champion is reviving his
spirits with the same stimulant; his foot is trampling upon the spoils
of victory, the broken staff and the flag inscribed, “Give us our
eleven days,”--another whimsical popular party cry, explained by the
alteration in the style, introduced in the session 1751, to correct
the calendar according to the Georgian computation, then adopted by
most European nations. To equalize the number of days, so that the new
year should in future begin on the 1st of January, eleven intermediate
days were for that occasion passed over between the 2nd and 14th of
September, 1752, so that the day succeeding the 2nd of that month would
be reckoned as the 14th--an alteration which provoked discontent,
and, in spite of its obvious convenience, was denounced as a Popish
innovation.
“In seventeen hundred and fifty-three,
The style was changed to P--p--ry [_Popery_],
But that it is lik’d, we don’t all agree;
Which nobody can deny.
“When the country folk first heard of this act,
That old father Style was condemned to be rack’d,
And robb’d of his time, which appears to be fact,
Which nobody can deny;
“It puzzl’d their brains, their senses perplex’d,
And all the old ladies were very much vex’d,
Not dreaming that Levites would alter our text;
Which nobody can deny.”
(_The Jew’s Triumph._)
The business of the meeting, regarding the gluttony and drunkenness
among the diversions, is centred in bribery. The Buff parliamentary
agent has a seat next the unconscious municipal in the chair; before
him is a ledger ruled with columns for “sure votes” and “doubtful.” The
occupations of this important factotum are deranged by a flying brick
from the opposition, which has struck home on his temple, bringing
him down headlong, with destruction to objects around. Amid much
horse-play and practical joking--to the strains of an extraordinary
orchestra--promises of payment, bank-notes, and broad-pieces are being
put into circulation. A lean Methodist tailor, with Blue sympathies,
and who is suffering from qualms of conscience, is placed between two
fires, the personal violence of his wife, with a half-shod offspring
appealing for new shoes, while a clerkly agent is pressing on his
acceptance a handful of silver coins to remove his pious scruples.
Although bribery was so generally admitted, and stalked barefaced
throughout the country, it was even then contrary to statute. With
his usual irony, the painter has shown the “Act against Bribery and
Corruption” turned into pipe-lights, and thrown aside in the tray
of “long clays,” together with a packet of tobacco, for the use of
smokers. This latter bears the name of “Kirton’s best,” and has its
peculiar significance: Nichols records that Kirton “was a tobacconist
by St. Dunstan’s Church, Fleet Street, who ruined his health and
constitution, as well as impaired his circumstances, by being busy in
the Oxfordshire election of 1754.” The pictures on the walls, according
to Hogarth’s practice, greatly assist the story: there is a view,
presumably of Oxford from the river--the city is represented in flames;
an undertaker’s escutcheon--the field sable bears three gold pieces,
with a chevron, the motto “Speak and Have,” surmounted by an open
mouth by way of crest proper. A portrait of William, Prince of Orange,
as the Protestant prince of the Revolution, has been slashed across by
rabid and indignant Jacobites, in allusion to the faction then supposed
to have had much influence in Oxford; branches of laurel are entwined
round a buff flag, marked “Liberty and Loyalty,” the standard of the
party.
Further allusions to the respective Houses of Stuart and Hanover may
be detected in the plate, “Canvassing for Votes,” in the signs of the
“Royal Oak,” _versus_ “The Crown.” All the taverns are pressed into
the service of the candidates as a matter of course, the enterprising
competitors striving to secure the preponderance of publicans, their
interest, friends, and followers. “Tim Partitool, Esq.,” possibly a
hit at Bubb Dodington, whose person, as sketched by Hogarth, may be
identified in at least one picture of this series, is located at the
“Royal Oak.” This enterprising gentleman, as depicted on his canvass,
is nicknamed “Punch,” also indicative of Bubb’s unmistakable figure. A
porter has brought two packages, evidently polling cards, inscribed,
“Sir, your vote and interest;” one of these parcels is directed “at
Punch’s, at the ‘Royal Oak’ Yard,” and to the candidate in question the
bearer is presenting a note with the superscription, “Tim Partitool,
Esq.” Above this gentleman’s head, and partly concealing the painted
signboard of Charles II. in the oak, with the three crowns of the
United Kingdom among the branches, is a pictorial poster in two
compartments. In the upper one are shown the Treasury and Horse Guards,
both burlesqued; while from the tall story of the former flows a stream
of gold, which is being packed into sacks for conveyance by waggon into
the country--there to be distributed for the purposes of bribery--to
strengthen the party already in power, known as the Old Interest (their
own). The way this is to come about is shown in the lower compartment
of the painted cloth: “Punch, candidate for Guzzledown,” the
_farceur_, with his protuberant rotundity of back and corporation, has
a wheel-barrow before him, filled with bags of money, marked £7000 and
£9000, and in all amounting to a considerable sum; he is casting about
the broad-pieces in a shower from a ladle, and they are caught in the
hats of expectant electors.
“See from the Treasury flows the gold,
To show that those who’re _bought_ are _sold_!
Come, Perjury, meet it on the road--
’Tis all your own--a waggon-load.
Ye party fools, ye courtier tribe,
Who gain no vote without a bribe,
Lavishly kind, yet insincere,
Behold in Punch yourselves appear.
And you, ye fools, who poll for pay,
Ye little great men of a day,
For whom your favourite will not care,
Observe how much bewitch’d you are.”
The candidate is treating all around, within the inn, as seen in
the bar-parlour, his followers are feeding gluttonously; in the
balcony above are two fair nymphs, whose favour he is conciliating
by purchasing trinkets from a Jew pedlar. A farmer voter of some
influence, probably a squire of the Tony Lumpkin order, who has ridden
into Guzzledown, is making the most of his opportunities: the landlords
of the rival inns are ostensibly pressing him to accept invitations
to dinner at the respective head-quarters; the host of the Royal Oak
is pouring a shower of silver into the receptive palm held out by the
wary elector, while the other hand receives the broad golden retainer
of “The Crown.” The landlady has a lapful of money, while one of
George’s grenadiers (like those seen in “The March to Finchley”) is
slyly watching the reckoning of the plunder, probably with an eye to
spoliation on his own account. The Crown, which is also the Excise
Office, is the scene of an animated contest, rival bludgeon-men are
in fierce conflict at the doorway, furniture and stones are being
thrown about, and a man from the window is discharging a gun into the
thick of the fray below--an allusion to a murderous episode which
really occurred. The sign of the Crown, suspended to a huge beam, is
in process of removal; a man above, on the wrong side of the support,
is sawing it through, while confederates below are dragging it down
by force: this is also figurative--the man above, who is assisting to
demolish the Crown, will come down simultaneously, while those beneath
it will be crushed by its fall. At a third house is the sign of the
Porto Bello, at the side door of which is seen a barber demonstrating
with pieces of tobacco-pipe the manner in which Porto Bello was itself
taken with six ships only; his companion, a cobbler, has given up work,
having received sufficient money from the elections to afford to forego
toil for the present.
[Illustration: THE ELECTION AT OXFORD.--CANVASSING FOR VOTES. BY W.
HOGARTH. 1754.]
[Illustration: THE OXFORDSHIRE ELECTION--THE POLLING BOOTH. BY W.
HOGARTH. 1754.
[_Page 145._]
The view of the Polling Booth is full of intention. Within, seated at
the back, on a raised platform, are the sheriffs or bailiffs with whom
the election rests, and their attendant, the beadle; in the front
are the poll clerks, with their register-books, and the lawyers to see
the testaments duly offered for attesting the oath; in the left corner,
a veteran (the Militia Bill peeps out of his pocket), who has lost
both arms and one leg, is touching the testament with the iron hook
which does duty for his missing hand; the clerk is trying to stifle
his laughter, while the opposition lawyer is energetically protesting
against this proceeding as informal. Hogarth has literally brought “the
blind and the halt” to the hustings; in fact, as was too frequently
witnessed on these occasions, he has introduced the extremes to which
recourse was had,--a pitiable idiot, in a hopeless stage of imbecility,
is brought up to the poll in a chair; this poor creature’s mind is
too far gone to distinguish between his right and left hands; the
clerk is vainly endeavouring to get the proper attestation, while the
keeper, or mad doctor, Dr. Shebbeare,[47] whose legs are adorned with
fetters as a felon, is prompting his charge; a political letter of the
doctor’s is shown in his pocket. Another victim, evidently on the verge
of dissolution, is smuggled up to the booth in an unconscious state,
wrapped in a blanket and carried by two repulsive ruffians; one of them
is puffing a blast of tobacco smoke full in the face of the dying man,
to whose night-cap is pinned a “True Blue” favour.
“Swift, reverend wag, Iërne’s pride,
Who lov’d the comic rein to guide,
Has told us, ‘Jailors, when they please,
Let out their flock to rob for fees.’
From this sage hint, in needful cases,
The wights, who govern other places,
Let out their crew for private ends--
_Ergo_, to serve themselves and friends.
Behold, here gloriously inclin’d
The Sick, the Lame, the Halt, and Blind!
From Workhouse, Jail, and Hospital,
Submissive come, true Patriots all!
* * * * *
And ’scaped from wars and foreign clutches,
An Invalid’s behind on crutches.”
Drinking is still proceeding, and “dying speeches” are hawked about,
with the usual heading of a rude woodcut of the gallows, in allusion
most probably to a local occurrence which produced considerable
agitation amongst the public at large--the passions of the multitude
having been set into a flame, in the absence of political excitement,
by the trial and execution at Oxford, in 1753, of a young woman, Mary
Blandy, for poisoning her father under rather romantic circumstances;
she persisted in asserting her innocence, even on the scaffold; a
number of pamphlets were published upon her case, which became the
subject of warm dispute.
All these “Election” plates are rich in suggestive allusions, the
meaning of many of which are now lost. Hogarth in his third plate
has indulged in simple allegory. Britannia’s state coach is in
difficulties, to which, by the aid of the check-string fastened to her
coachman’s arm, she is vainly endeavouring to draw the attention of
her driver, who has laid down his reins, being otherwise engaged; the
two servants on the box are absorbed in a game of cards, while one is
cheating,--an allusion to the extravagant gambling propensities which,
to so large and notorious an extent, disfigured society in general, and
particularly (at this time) those charged with the interests of the
kingdom.
[Illustration: THE OXFORDSHIRE ELECTION.--CHAIRING THE MEMBERS. BY W.
HOGARTH. 1754.]
The fourth plate, “Chairing the Members,” exhibits the last and
apparently most trying episode as regards the successful candidate; the
hero of the hour--the newly returned member, elected in the True Blue,
or New Interest--occupies a position which may have its honours, but
obviously has its perils. In place of the actually returned members,
Hogarth seems to have selected the figure of the intriguing manager of
the Leicester House party, Bubb Dodington (afterwards Lord Melcombe),
for the hero of the chairing scene. He is elevated only to find
himself surrounded with embarrassments: the dangers of his chairing
are lost sight of momentarily, for his pale face is horror-stricken
by being confronted with a fair lady of fashion; she is equally
affected by the rencontre, for she is swooning away--it is presumed
with apprehension--in the arms of her maids. Over Bubb’s head flies a
goose--a happy conception, understood to be introduced as a parody of
the “Triumph of Alexander,” by Le Brun, where that grandiose artist has
suggestively made an eagle hover over the head of his hero. In the Blue
procession following the chairmen are all the elements of an election
triumph--rough music of marrow-bones and cleavers, True Blue flags,[48]
plenty of bludgeon-men, while a “block head,” wearing the buff favour
of their opponents, is carried to ridicule the opposition. Another
humorous episode is shown in a vixenish dame sporting a buff cockade;
she has boldly broken through the ranks of the Blues, and is driving
from their midst her husband, a tailor, detected in his duplicity by
the virago, who is soundly cuffing her crestfallen “inferior moiety,”
lately deserted to the enemy. A barrel of beer has been placed in the
street for public use; a pewter measure stands beside it; the mob seems
to have used the opportunity, as a would-be drinker is discovering that
the cask is already emptied. In the distance, a second chaired member
is skilfully indicated, of whom the shadow only is seen, projected
on a wall, while he is carried along to the evident risk of limb and
life, as his gesticulations imply. Among other accessories may be noted
a tar-barrel, in preparation for a bonfire later on. The sun-dial
bears the date 1755 (when the picture was completed), and marks three
o’clock, the quality dinner-hour. The bigwigs of the Court party
are assembled at an adjacent mansion, at which a plentiful banquet
is about to be served: a French _chef_, his long clubbed tail bound
with an orange favour, a female cook, noblemen’s servants, and other
retainers, all wearing the colours of the Old Interest, are carrying
the silver-covered dishes in procession. The ministerial adherents are
assembled on the first floor; a large handsome window--all the panes of
which have been broken by the stones of the patriots, affords a good
view of the guests; from the side window they are catching the prospect
of the Blue demonstration, surveying with malicious delight the
perilous situation of the alarmed chaired member, whose triumph seems,
for the time being, the reverse of enviable.
It is said the figure of the chief personage is intended for that
of the Duke of Newcastle; the Duke of Marlborough was also actively
engaged on the Tory side: while the back of another, wearing a broad
ribbon, is possibly meant for Lord Winchilsea. Among the artist’s
fugitive sketches, as published at his widow’s, Leicester Fields,
in 1781, are the two caricatures--engraved by Bartolozzi, from the
Earl of Exeter’s collection of Hogarth’s originals--representing Bubb
Dodington (very like “Punch”), and the back view of Lord Winchilsea;
both these studies might have been made for the plate of “Chairing the
Members.” These figures are also included in a caricature entitled “The
Recruiting Sergeant” 1757 (the design of which was ascribed to the Hon.
George Townshend), while that of Lord Winchilsea, who was at the head
of the admiralty, is reproduced with scarcely any alteration, excepting
the position of the paddle shown over his shoulder, in the “Triumph of
Neptune.”
[Illustration: GEORGE BUBB DODINGTON (LORD MELCOMBE-REGIS) AND THE EARL
OF WINCHILSEA. BY HOGARTH. 1753.]
Other multifarious incidents are given in the fourth plate of the
“Election.” A soldier with the Buff colours is washing the wound
received on behalf of his employers; his sword is snapped across the
blade. A pig-driver, flourishing a formidable flail, is doing battle
with a bear-leader, who is armed with a bludgeon. The backward swing
of the flail is imperilling the security of the new member’s seat,
while wounding the chair-bearers. Bruin is helping himself from the
offal pail of a passing ass--the patient animal stopping to munch a
thistle by the wayside; the driver is belabouring the bear over the
head, to the alarm of a monkey equipped _à la militaire_ and riding on
the brute’s shoulder. In the monkey’s fright, a musket at his side is
discharged in the face of a little chimney-sweep, who, raised aloft
on the wall, is stooping forward to ornament a sculptured skull or
effigy of death, placed above the church gate, with a pair of huge
round spectacles, in imitation of those worn by Lord Winchilsea. This
burning of powder, like the other episodes, has its significance; for,
according to the account of Nichols, who claims to have discussed the
hidden meanings of these pictures with Hogarth himself, it was “during
the contested Oxfordshire Election in 1754 an outrageous mob in the
‘Old Interest’ had surrounded a post-chaise, and were about to throw
it into the river (occupant and all), when Captain T----, withinside,
shot a chimney-sweeper who was most active in the assault. The captain
was tried and acquitted.” Among the items in these election bills
it will be observed that more or less mortality has generally to be
reckoned, “death by misadventure” having been sufficiently prominent
in most contests of the kind during the turbulent times of the past.
Private property was held in small respect while rioting was rife; for
instance, Hogarth has, in the scene of the chairing, shown a mansion
partially demolished, intending to imply that the house had been
wrecked by the riotous mob in the course of their eccentric diversions:
it will be noted that the wilful destruction of houses and furniture
was another recognized feature of election times.
The diary of George Bubb Dodington, Baron of Melcombe-Regis, does
not, it is true, contain any enlightenment upon the subject of the
Oxfordshire election as depicted by Hogarth, yet the writer is
circumstantial in his account of the elections of April, 1754. The
records, however, deal with other contests in which the diarist was
active, and notably one which brought Dodington much perplexity of mind
and loss of cash. The accounts are nearly all set down as recitals of
long interviews with the Duke of Newcastle, who was then trying to
strengthen his hands by giving away places to those whose allegiance
was doubtful; while Dodington, upon whose influence and assistance
he could reckon, reaped nothing but mortification, being in fact an
intriguer who was for once played upon for ends other than his own by
a more astute and less scrupulous diplomatist than himself. The heads
of the alliance are set down as under discussion. Bubb was to furnish
his interest towards the electing the new parliament (the dissolution
was then an affair of hours), claiming to return six members on his
own account. “I did it,” he writes, “in the county of Dorset, as far
as they pleased to push it. I engaged also specifically to choose two
members for Weymouth, which he desired might be the son of the Duke of
Devonshire and Mr. Ellis of the admiralty.” The candidates nominated
by the Duke of Newcastle, Lord J. Cavendish and Mr. Ellis, were
successfully returned by Dodington’s influence in the sequel. Further,
there was opposition in Bridgwater, where Bubb was expected to return
two members. Lord Egmont was putting up for that place against the
Court, and it was the royal pleasure that Dodington should sacrifice
himself to keep the Tory candidate out, as signified through Pelham;
to which Bubb replied, “that I desired him, when next these matters
came to be discussed, to lay me at the King’s feet, and tell him that,
as I found it would be agreeable to his Majesty, I would spare neither
pains nor expense to exclude him; and thus it became my engagement to
do it if I can.” “Lord Egmont’s successful return,” he writes, “need
not affect my election, though it might destroy the Whig interest in
Bridgwater for ever.” Poor Bubb, oblivious of the royal antipathies to
the friends of the Prince of Wales, was hoping to secure his old post
of treasurer of the navy, but the leadership of the House of Commons
had fallen upon the Pelhams, and, as the party must be strengthened
there, it was hinted that the Duke of Newcastle would have to buy
supporters by giving away to waverers the offices which rightly were
due to his friends; to which Dodington replied without sophistication,
“that he considered himself as useful there as his neighbours, and,
considering his age, rank, the offices he had held,” and, “adding
to that, choosing six members for them at my own expense, without
the expense of one shilling from their side, I thought the world in
general, and even the gentlemen themselves, could not expect that their
pretensions should give me the exclusion.” The duke remarked that “the
ease and cheapness of the election of Weymouth had surprised him, that
they had nothing like it;” and Bubb considered again “that there were
few who could give his Majesty six members for nothing.” Newcastle then
took the stout future Baron Melcombe in his arms and kissed him twice
(!) “with strong assurance of affection and service;” moreover, notes
of all Bubb had said were written out for the king’s pleasure. A week
later, Dodington sets down, “Dined at Lord Barrington’s, and found
that, notwithstanding the fine conversation of last Thursday, all the
employments are given away.”
Nevertheless, he valorously went to work to try and return two members
for Bridgwater, though rather against his inclinations; unfortunately,
although the doings of each day are set down, the details of the
election have been abbreviated by the editor of the diary, Henry
Wyndham.
“1754. April 8th. Arrived at Eastbury.
“11. Dr. Sharpe and I set out from Eastbury at four o’clock
in the morning for Bridgwater, where, as I expected, I found
things very disagreeably framed.
“12. Lord Egmont came, with trumpets, noise, etc.
“13. He and we walked the town: we found nothing unexpected as
far as we went.
“14, 15, 16. Spent in the infamous and disagreeable compliance
with the low habits of venal wretches.
“17. Came on the election, which I lost by the injustice of the
Returning Officer. The numbers were--for Lord Egmont 119, for
Mr. Balch 114, for me 105. Of my good votes 15 were rejected: 8
bad votes for Lord Egmont were received.
“18. Left Bridgwater for ever. Arrived at Eastbury in the
evening.”
Altogether Dodington places his expenses at £2500, later on at £3400,
and finally, when the king had thrown him over, at nearly £4000 spent
in this affair. According to an accepted political axiom, what a man
buys he may sell; Pelham admitted to Dodington that he possessed “a
good deal of marketable ware (parliamentary interest), and that if I
would empower him to offer it all to the king, without conditions, he
would he answerable to bring the affair to a good account.” In this
instance the vendor sold himself for “just nothing at all,” as is shown
in the diary. The king disliked Bubb as the adviser of his son, whom he
hated.
“April 26. I went to the Duke of Newcastle’s. Received with
much seeming affection: thanks for Weymouth, where I had
succeeded; sorrow for Bridgwater, where I had not.
* * * * *
“I began by telling him that I had done all that was in the
power of money and labour, and showed him two bills for money
remitted thither, before I went down, one of £1000, one of
£500, besides all the money then in my steward’s hands, so that
the election would cost me about £2500. In the next place, if
this election stood, the borough was for ever in Tory hands;
that all this was occasioned by want of proper support from the
Court, and from the behaviour of the servants of the Crown.”
The truth was that the Court had really defeated Dodington. Lord
Poulett, a lord of the bedchamber, “had acted openly against him with
all his might;” and this action on the part of the higher powers had
carried the Government employees, so that “five out of the Custom-house
officers gave single votes for Lord Egmont.”
“The next head was--that, in spite of all, I had a fair
majority of legal votes, for that the Mayor had admitted eight
bad votes for Lord Egmont, and refused fifteen good ones for
me; so that it was entirely in their own hands to retrieve
the borough, and get rid of a troublesome opponent, if they
pleased; that if the king required this piece of service, it
was to be done, and the borough put into Whig hands, and under
his influence, without any stretch of power.”
The intricacies of electioneering are supplanted by those of statecraft
from this point; Bubb’s diary rehearses--spread over four months--the
reasons for and against petitioning for a just return; but it peeps
out, and therein lies the rub--that Dodington has inflamed the Tories
by his assistance in Dorset. Now, just at this time, the Duke of
Newcastle sought to make friends with the opposition; and it occurred
to this slippery tactician that, as Dodington had had the sole onus of
trying to keep out the Tories and failed, if he allowed Lord Egmont
to retain his seat for Bridgwater, it would purchase his allegiance
without the cost and inconvenience of putting some post or piece of
state preferment at his disposal. Thus did Dodington sacrifice both his
money and pains without conciliating the favour of the king, with whom
the ambitious courtier was the reverse of popular.
One important feature of electioneering, missing in the later days, was
the edifying practice of “Burning a Prime Minister,” making effigies of
unpopular candidates and obnoxious ministers for burnt-offerings.
A caricature appeared in 1756 representing a street, in the precincts
of Westminster it is presumed, filled with a crowd of enthusiastic
patriots on their way to make a bonfire of the offending minister
in effigy. The figure wears a cocked hat, and has a wig and mask,
evidently copied from those of the living prototype, mounted on a
stick; the coat and gloves are stuffed; the legs are sticks, bound up
into a rude resemblance to stockings and shoes. The effigy is strapped
on horseback. At the rear is a gibbet, on which the dummy premier is to
be finally suspended. One of the mob bears a supply of faggots. Beneath
this pictorial satire, which is executed something in the style of
Sayer, the caricaturist of a later date, appear the verses:--
“Were you in effigy to burn
Each treacherous statesman in his turn,
What better would Britannia be,
Whilst the proud knaves themselves are free?
Knaves have brought disgrace upon her!
Have bought her votes and sold her Honour!”
[Illustration: BURNING A PRIME MINISTER IN EFFIGY. 1756. (FROM DR.
NEWTON’S COLLECTION.)]
The following manifesto explains the object of this publication, an
appeal “Against Corruption,” and directed to securing the purity of
elections against Ministerial bribery. The subject of the squib was
evidently suggested by the Guy Fawkes processions of November. It
appeared at the time when the Newcastle and Fox administration was near
its fall and after those expensive elections in which the duke had
spent enormous sums in bribery.
“Who can call to remembrance without abhorrence the behaviour
of a Whiggish Ministry, who, neglecting everything else but
the business of Bribery and Corruption, reduced the credit of
the Nation and themselves to so low an ebb, that at length
they were obliged to import Hessian and Hanoverian Troops to
support an immense unconstitutional standing army, in defending
them and their measures at home; whilst our perfidious enemies
ravaged and distressed our wretched Colonies in every other
part of the globe. Now it would be well for England if the
several Tory or motley administrations since that time could
demonstrate that they have spent less time and treasure in
the same destructive employment. As a tree is known by its
fruit, so is a bad minister by his attempting to influence
Electors, or even to gain a Majority of the Elected by any
other means than the justice of his measures; otherwise the use
of a national Council is superseded; and when a King is thus
deprived of the disinterested deliberations of his people in
Parliament, the authors of the undue influence are certainly
guilty of Treason in the strictest sense of the word.”