JOHN WILKES AS A POPULAR REPRESENTATIVE.
In the whole history of electioneering no figure is more conspicuous
than that of John Wilkes, the quondam patriot, who was by the attacks
of others brought into a prominence which neither his abilities nor
character justified.
Hogarth commenced hostilities against Wilkes, Churchill (_The North
Briton_), and Beardmore (_The Monitor_) by attacking their publications
incidentally in that unfortunate attempt at political satire of his,
christened “The Times,” Plate I. (1762). It will be remembered that
the figure of the artist’s patron, Lord Bute, is there glorified as a
Scotch husbandman engaged in extinguishing a general conflagration;
while a frenzied man, intended to personify the Duke of Newcastle,
is driving a wheel-barrow filled with _Monitors_ and _North Britons_
against the legs of the zealous Scot, who, unmoved, continues his
exertions to subdue the threatened ruin of the State. Pitt and Lord
Temple are further assailed--not too cleverly--in this view of the
“Times.” On this provocation, Wilkes and Churchill naturally took up
the cudgels in their own defence, and certainly gave Hogarth cause
for irritation. He prepared the second plate of “The Times,” with a
further pictorial castigation of his now-declared adversaries, but was
induced to reconsider the policy of publishing the plate, and thus
giving greater offence; consequently it was not until thirty years
later, when the quarrel was almost forgotten, and the opponents had
long been at rest,[49] that the world was favoured with a view of this
equally laboured satire, when it was published by the Boydells at
their Shakespeare Gallery, with the collected works of W. Hogarth (May
29, 1790). George III., Bute, Temple, Lord Mansfield, and others, are
introduced in this version, but the portion which is pointed at Wilkes,
in continuation of this “rough bout of clever men clumsily throwing
dirt at each other,” as it has been described, is the figurement of
Miss Fanny, of “Cock-lane ghost” notoriety, pilloried and held up
to infamy side by side with Wilkes, whose offence is indicated as
“Defamation.” On his breast is pinned a copy of the _North Briton_,
the No. 17 which was specially devoted to a base attack upon Hogarth.
This incendiary publication is already threatened with flames from
the penitential candle held by “Miss Fanny,” his shrouded companion
in disgrace. Indignities are showered upon Wilkes in allusion to his
involved circumstances; his empty pockets are turned inside out, a
school-boy is watering his legs, a woman is trundling a mop over his
head, and he is generally regarded with derisive contempt by the crowd.
The crowning effort of Hogarth’s revenge for the abuse showered upon
him by both Wilkes and Churchill was the famous etching in which
the popular favourite is pilloried to all time as the type and very
personification of everything false and sinister, and yet most lifelike
as to resemblance; for Wilkes was himself so cynically candid as to
admit in after-life that he was “growing more like his portrait every
day.” The famous likeness represents Wilkes seated in a chair at a low
table, on which is an inkstand and the _North Briton_, Nos. 17 and 45;
he is holding the staff, topped with an inverted vessel to simulate
the cap of liberty. Attitude and features are alike expressive, and,
as Mr. Stephens has described it, “he leers and squints as if in
mockery of his own pretences to patriotism.” When brought up from the
Tower, to which Lord Bute’s party had ventured to commit him for the
attack in the _North Briton_, No. 45, Wilkes was tried at Westminster,
before Chief Justice Pratt--subsequently eulogized as “the champion of
Freedom and Justice,” and better known to fame as Lord Camden,--who
caused the prisoner to be discharged, to the frantic delight of the
populace. It was on this occasion that Hogarth secured his opportunity
of sketching the idol of the people and the thorn of the Court. In a
note prefixed to “An Epistle to William Hogarth,” by Churchill, it is
averred that when Mr. Wilkes was the second time brought from the Tower
to Westminster Hall, Hogarth skulked behind a screen in the corner of
the gallery of the Common Pleas; and while Lord Chief Justice Pratt
was enforcing the great principles of the Constitution, the painter
was employed in caricaturing the prisoner. So popular was this print,
issued at one shilling, that Nichols mentions “nearly four thousand
copies were worked off in a few weeks.” “The Epistle” referred to
was provoked by the etching of John Wilkes, “Drawn from the Life.”
Hogarth is said to have felt severely the retort which the vigorous and
“bruising” Churchill thought proper to make.
[Illustration: JOHN WILKES, A PATRIOT. AFTER HOGARTH.]
“Lurking, most ruffian-like, behind a screen,
So plac’d all things to see, himself unseen,
Virtue, with due contempt, saw Hogarth stand,
The murd’rous pencil in his palsied hand;” etc.
To this pasquinade, which revelled audaciously in the realms of libel,
and was otherwise a false and indefensible attack on the artist’s
private life, Hogarth characteristically replied with his graver; but
not to lose time, while his mind was heated by the attack, he utilized
a plate on which was already engraved his own portrait and his dog,
after the painting now in the National Gallery, and burnishing out
those parts which were in his way, he engraved--
“The Bruiser, C. Churchill (once the Revd.!), in the character
of a Russian Hercules, regaling himself after having kill’d the
monster Caricatura that so sorely gall’d his virtuous friend,
the Heaven-born WILKES.
“‘But he had a Club this Dragon to drub,
Or he had ne’er don’t I warrant ye.’”
(_Dragon of Wantley._)
[Illustration: A BEAR-LEADER. HOGARTH, CHURCHHILL, AND WILKES.]
This plate was issued at 1_s._ _6d._, and seems to have gone through
various alterations and additions from first to last. On the palette
which first displayed the mystifying “line of beauty,” was substituted
two designs of a figurative nature--the one having reference to
Pitt, his resignation and annual pension, and his city supporters,
represented by the emblematic civic guardians, Gog and Magog; the
other a group further applying to the castigation of the designer’s
foes. Hogarth is armed with a triple whip, with which he is lustily
chastising a big dancing bear, Churchill, held bound and muzzled, as
not only the artist but the ministry and the Scotch faction would
have rejoiced to have effected; the Bruiser to the clerical ruffles
and bands has incongruously added the modish laced hat of a man about
town; the other end of the rope, by which Hogarth has secured the bear
through the muzzle, is fastened round an ape, intended to personify
Wilkes. This animal is wearing a wig exactly similar to that shown on
Wilkes’s head in the too-famous etching; the _North Briton_ is in his
left hand; the spear, topped with the inevitable cap of liberty, is
turned into a hobby-horse, to infer, according to Mr. F. G. Stephen’s
account, “that Wilkes used Liberty to get his own ends, which not more
than a child progresses on its ‘cock-horse’ did he really obtain.” The
face of the fiddling personage, who is making the music for this pretty
caper, is a featureless blank; he wears a ribbon of knighthood, and it
is understood that Earl Temple is the person intended.
Other uncomplimentary allusions to Wilkes and his proceedings appear
in the _Public Advertiser_, where is a woodcut of an execution, I.W.,
and M.P., with a “Toast”--“May loyalists walk easily in their Boots
[a reference to Lord Bute], and malcontents die like Wilks in their
shells.”
The notoriety of John Wilkes was much assisted by the ill-advised and
clumsy conduct of the ministry, which elected to make a martyr of the
man whose career proves him to have been but a sham patriot, and, who,
if unnoticed, was totally without weight or consequence. On April 30,
1763, Wilkes found himself, in spite of the Habeas Corpus granted by
the Common Pleas, conducted to the Tower on a warrant, signed by the
Earls of Egremont and Halifax as Privy Councillors and Secretaries of
State, authorizing the Constable of the Tower, the Right Hon. John Lord
Berkeley of Stratton,--
“to receive into your custody the body of John Wilkes, Esq.,
herewith sent you, for being the author and publisher of a most
infamous and seditious libel, entitled the _North Briton_,
No. XLV., tending to inflame the minds and alienate the
affections of the people from His Majesty, and to excite them
to traitorous insurrections against the Government.”
The small engraving which exhibits Wilkes in the Tower, forms one
portion of a series, entitled “The Places” (being a sequel to “The
Posts”), a political pasquinade, dedicated to Bamber Gasoign, Esq., a
Trading Lord for the time being.
[Illustration: A SAFE PLACE. WILKES IN THE TOWER, 1763.]
“Satire’s a harmless, quiet thing--
’Tis application makes the sting.”
No. 3 is styled a Safe Place; the title is “Moderation, Moderation,
this was Wonderful Moderation, an old song.” The prisoner is
simultaneously attacked by curs, and by one of the historical lions
of the Tower, which cannot do much harm, being chained to the secure
post Magna Charta. Wilkes is threatening his assailants with a whip;
he has on a spear the cap of liberty--this emblem is inscribed “Habeas
Corpus.” A yeoman of the guard is in charge of the hero of the XLV.
_North Briton_.
“There’s a scene for an Englishman! Patriots ill-us’d,
Magna Charta despised, and poor Freedom abus’d;
Once the love of our country brought profit and pow’r,
But it now, tho’ with glory, sends WILKES to the Tow’r.”
In the version of “Daniel cast into the Den of Lions; or, _True
Blue_ will never stain” (April 29, 1763), Wilkes is shown the centre
of a highly elaborate allegorical combination, which deals with
the incidents of his arrest, associated with the _North Briton_,
and his obnoxious writings. One of the scenes exhibits the king’s
messengers violently breaking into Wilkes’s house, Great George Street,
Westminster, and ransacking his receptacles for papers. On the other
side, the messengers are shown conducting Wilkes to the Tower, the
title “Den of Lions” not being wide of the mark, since it, at that
time, was the abiding place of the royal menagerie. Wilkes is made to
declare: “Corruption I detest, and Persecution I despise,”--sentiments
befitting the patriotic martyr, as he was then believed to be, a
“goodly repute” with which he was only too desirous of parting in
exchange for such bribes as were weighty enough for his acceptance.
In the symbolic view of this new “Daniel,” the goddess Fame hovers
over her whilom favourite, with a wreath to crown his brow; she is
publishing, through her trumpet, “Magnus est Veritas;” the door of the
den which confines the lions is a prominent feature. Below appears
the Lieutenant of the Tower; he has a written “counsel’s opinion” in
his hand, and is replying to a demand for admittance made by Wilkes’s
brother, “Consider, sir, my Lord Temple was not suffered to see him.”
When Wilkes was committed to the Tower, both his brother and Earl
Temple applied to be admitted to see him, and were refused.
The “general warrant” on which Wilkes was arrested was proved illegal,
and on a writ of _Habeas Corpus_, he was set at liberty on the ground
of his privilege as a member of Parliament. After his release from
the Tower, Wilkes was involved in a duel, and severely wounded; he
then fled to Paris, January, 1764, and was, in his absence, expelled
from parliament and outlawed for contempt of court. On the issue of
writs for the general election, after the dissolution of parliament,
March 12, 1768, Wilkes, who had made several vain attempts to get
the sentence reversed, suddenly presented himself as a candidate to
represent the city of London, in the interval addressing to the king
a submissive letter imploring pardon and the reversal of the sentence
of outlawry which had been passed upon him. This petition the king
rejected with decision. Although Alderman Sir William Baker was the
only citizen of note or influence who supported him, Wilkes persisted
in his candidature, the lower people embracing his cause with ardour;
but he polled the minimum of votes, and was signally defeated, the
successful members being the Hon. Thomas Harley, lord mayor, with
3,729 votes; Sir R. Ladbroke, 3,678; William Beckford, 3,402; Barlow
Trecothwick, 2,957. The unsuccessful candidates were Sir Richard Glyn,
2,823; John Patterson, 1,769; and Wilkes, at the bottom of the poll,
who contrived to secure 1,247 votes.
On Wilkes’s return from the Guildhall at the close of the poll, March
23, 1768, where, as seen, he obtained the lowest number of votes, the
people displayed their fervour for spurious patriotism by removing
the horses from his carriage, and drawing it themselves; other
extravagancies of a like nature showed the spirit of the multitude,
by whom Wilkes was regarded as the tribune of the people, a situation
very much to his taste. Considering his mob-popularity assured, he now
proposed to conciliate his opponents; the first step was to make a
pretence of submission. On the 22nd of March, he wrote to the solicitor
of the treasury: “I take the liberty of acquainting you, that in the
beginning of the ensuing term I shall present myself to the court of
King’s Bench. I pledge my honour as a gentleman, that on the very
first day I will there make my personal appearance.” The letter sent
by Wilkes to the king was certainly a plausible composition, but the
fervid assurances there given being in direct antagonism with the
conduct of the writer at that very time, it may be held that George
III. was justified in treating the applicant with indignant contempt.
“SIRE,
“I beg thus to throw myself at your Majesty’s feet, and
supplicate the mercy and clemency which shine with such lustre
among your princely virtues. Some former ministers, whom your
Majesty, in condescension to the wishes of your people, thought
proper to remove, employed every wicked and deceitful act to
oppress your subject, and to avenge their own personal cause on
him, whom they imagined to be the principal author of bringing
to public view their ignorance, insufficiency, and treachery to
your Majesty and the nation.
“I have been the innocent and unhappy victim of revenge. I was
forced by their injustice and violence into exile, which I have
never ceased to consider, for many years, as the most cruel
oppression; because I could not longer be under the benign
influence of your Majesty in this land of liberty.
“With a heart full of zeal for the service of your Majesty and
my country, I implore, Sire, your clemency. My only hopes of
pardon are founded in the great goodness and benevolence of
your Majesty; and every day of freedom you may be graciously
pleased to permit me the enjoyment of, in my dear native land,
shall give proofs of my zeal and attachment to your service.”
This letter was judiciously ignored, but meanwhile fresh publicity was
awaiting Wilkes--on the 27th, he was carried by a writ of _capias ut
legatum_ to the King’s Bench.
The return of Wilkes from Paris, his failure for the city, and election
for Middlesex are figuratively shadowed forth in “The Flight of
Liberty,” a broadside consisting of two engraved designs, “The Return
of Liberty,” and “Liberty Revived,” with verses in praise of Wilkes and
reflecting adversely upon his antagonists. In the upper compartment
is shown the Court, or administrative faction, destroying the Temple
of Liberty (an allusion to Earl Temple), raised above the statue of
Wilkes, with the cap of liberty, as usual, elevated on the staff of
maintenance. Lord Bute trampling on Magna Charta, is foremost of the
destroyers who are wrecking the whole edifice, the very foundations
of which are being razed; the “Laird of Boot” is exclaiming, “Well
said, guid friends, down with the mighty _Temple_,” in allusion to the
protection and patronage that nobleman had already extended to Wilkes;
the Duke of Bedford, Lord North, and other ministers are aiding. The
second design shows “the Temple of Liberty built by John Wilkes,
A.D. 1762,” reinstated, “never to fall again.”
Nothing daunted by his defeat for the city of London, Wilkes at once
offered himself for the county of Middlesex. In his “Memoirs of the
Reign of George III.,” Walpole gives certain glimpses of the election
proceedings, which are as descriptive as a more detailed account:--
“On the 23rd of March the Election began at Brentford; and
while the irresolution of the Court and the carelessness of the
Prime Minister, Grafton, caused a neglect of all precautions,
the zeal of the populace had heated itself to a pitch of fury.”
The other candidates were Sir W. Beauchamp Proctor and Mr. Cooke, the
former members. Cooke, who had sat from 1750, was confined with the
gout; a relation, who appeared for him, was roughly handled. Amidst the
wrecking of carriages which ensued, that of Proctor did not escape the
attention of the roughs; it “was demolished by the mob.”
The coach-glasses of such as did not huzza for “Wilkes” and “Liberty”
were broken, the paint and varnish of chariots and coaches, met and
stopped for miles round, were spoiled by the mob--scratching them
with the favourite “45.” Lord Bute, generally the object of popular
disfavour, was denounced by an attack made on his residence, where the
mob broke his windows, as usual, but failed to effect an entrance; the
same unwelcome attention was paid to Lord Egremont’s, in Pall Mall, as
the chief signatory to the warrant for Wilkes’s committal. The Duke of
Northumberland had the honour of appearing, whether he would or no, of
being forced to supply the mob with liquor, and to drink with them to
Wilkes’s success. The demonstration assumed formidable proportions;
all the windows from West to East were illuminated to please the mob,
otherwise they were broken by the riotous “true loyal Britons and
friends of Liberty,” who performed some curious feats; some of the
regimental drummers, not the Scotch regiments it may be premised,
beating their drums for Wilkes. This astute diplomatist, finding his
election secure, very prudently dismissed his enthusiastic partisans,
such as the weavers, back to town, the polling[50] was ended, and by
the next morning quietude was resumed in the vicinity of Brentford.
Some of the incidents were particularly ludicrous, the mob going out of
the way to perpetuate the number of the _North Briton_ so objectionable
to the Court. The Austrian Ambassador, the Count de Seilern, described
by Horace Walpole in a letter to the Earl of Hertford as the most
stately and ceremonious of men, was obliged to get out of his coach,
and ignominiously held with his legs in the air while the figures “45”
were chalked on the soles of his shoes. This insult formed the grounds
of an official complaint. It was as difficult for the minister to help
laughing at the gravity of his representations as to redress the slight
offered to a friendly power in the person of its representative.
Wilkes was now master of the situation; all his expectations were
verified. Elated with success, his audacity enabled him to make the
most of his undeserved triumph, and assuming a tone which heaped
fresh mortifications upon the Court, he printed an address of
acknowledgment to his constituents, in which he invited them to give
him their instructions from time to time, and promised that he would
always defend their civic and religious rights. Although posing as
the champion of liberty, Wilkes’s parliamentary career was a dismal
failure; in the House he was of no account whatever.
It is interesting to note contemporaneous opinion on a point which is
so strongly distorted by partisanship that independent impressions
are rare. Dr. Franklin, whose genuine passion for liberty it must be
admitted was as absorbing and unaffected as Wilkes’s assumed patriotism
was shallow and self-serving, happened to be in London at the time
of the violent ferment occasioned by the Middlesex election in 1768.
Although lately returned from Paris, and himself, a citizen of the
land which complimented Paine, he thus unreservedly sums up the popular
candidate, together with the political agitation associated with his
pretensions.
“’Tis really an extraordinary event to see an outlaw and
exile of bad personal character, not worth a farthing, come
over from France, set himself up as a candidate for the
capital of the kingdom, miss his election only by being too
late in his application, and immediately carrying it for the
principal county. The mob, spirited up by numbers of different
ballads, sung or roared in the streets, requiring gentlemen
and ladies of all ranks as they passed in their carriages,
to shout for ‘Wilkes and Liberty;’ marking the same words on
their coaches with chalk, and ‘No. 45’ on every door, which
extend a vast way along the roads into the country. I went
last week to Winchester, and observed that for fifteen miles
out of town there was scarcely a door or window-shutter next
the road unmarked, and this continued here and there quite to
Winchester, which is sixty-four miles.”
The day of Wilkes’s election appeared the portrait of “John Wilkes,
elected Knight of the Shire for Middlesex, March 28, 1768, by the free
voice of the people,” with, according to the allegorical taste of the
time, Hercules and Minerva as supporters, the latter crowning the elect
M.P. with a wreath, while the former tramples upon the serpent of Envy;
the genius of Liberty is holding the staff of maintenance, surmounted
by the cap of liberty (as invariably associated with Wilkes), and is
pointing to the portrait as her champion. Simultaneously appeared
an engraving commemorative of other incidents of the return from
Brentford, showing the valour of the chief magistrate of the city. The
guards on duty at St. James’s Palace had orders to be in readiness to
march at beat of drum to suppress any riots which might take place; it
has been described how certain drummers took to drumming for Wilkes,
while his sympathizers marched through Westminster to the city,
upsetting all in their way, chalking doors, breaking window-glass,
both in houses and carriages, inscribing vehicles and foot-passengers
impartially with “45.” “Wilkes and Liberty” was the cry, and woe to
those who did not join in shouting, for they, without further inquiry,
were promptly knocked down. In the city, the mob grew more outrageous,
the lord mayor being the Hon. Thomas Harley, who had been elected for
the city, at the top of the poll, when Wilkes, his name lowest on the
list, had been defeated ignominiously; moreover, the lord mayor was a
courtier, and was denounced subsequently in the _North Briton_ as “a
political gambler,” nor was the charge groundless. The mob accordingly
attacked the Mansion House and the lord mayor’s private residence
in Aldersgate Street; neither of these places being illuminated in
honour of Wilkes was a sufficient offence in the sight of the mob, who
proceeded to demolish the windows: every pane of glass was broken,
even to those of the lady mayoress’s bed-chamber. Then they erected
a gallows, on which was suspended a boot and petticoat to symbolize
the Princess of Wales, only too well-known, according to popular
clamour, in association with the Earl of Bute, the “Laird of the Boot”
thus indicated in close proximity; these suggestive emblems of hated
“secret influence” were also marked “45” for the nonce. The pictorial
satire evoked on this topic, “The Rape of the Petticoat” (March 28,
1768), exhibits the lord mayor making a sally from the Mansion House,
supported by constables armed with long staves; the chief magistrate
has himself seized the obnoxious boot and petticoat, amid the ridicule
and laughing resistance of the rabble, who are treating his lordship
to indignities. Below the design is inscribed, “He valiantly seiz’d
the Petticoat and Boot at the portal of his own Mansion.--_Daily
Advertiser._”
This loyal zeal was rewarded with signal favour. Harley was made a
councillor of State, and subsequently, through Lord Suffolk, obtained
a lucrative contract. To the impression of this print in the _Oxford
Magazine_ the following verses were added:--
“Sing thou, my muse, the dire contested fray,
Where Harley dar’d the dangers of the day;
Propitious Day, that could at once create
A Merchant Tailor[51] Councillor of State!
A numerous multitude contriv’d to meet;
And Halloo _Forty-Five_ thro’ every street;
And (what’s incredible) were heard to cry
Those words seditious, _Wilkes and Liberty_!
On lofty standards in the air did float
Those hieroglyphics ‘_Boot_ and _Petticoat_.’
Soon as their dreadful shouts accost the ear
Of grocer knights, and traders in small-beer,
Confounded and amaz’d the Guildhall court
Forget their custard, and forsake their port;
Away, with ghastly looks, lo, Harley ran,
And thus, in doleful plight, their dismal tale began:
‘Most honour’d, most belov’d, thou best of men!’
* * * * *
Then from his mansion rush’d the val’rous chief,
To serve his country, or to--take a thief:
But more resolv’d to crush Rebellion’s root,
And triumph o’er the Petticoat and Boot;
In equal balance hung the fierce dispute
Between the warlike Magistrate and Boot.
The Boot and Petticoat at length gave way,
And now remain the trophies of the day.”
On the 20th of April, Wilkes appeared before the Court of King’s
Bench, Westminster, of which event an engraving was published. On his
surrendering to his outlawry, the Attorney-General moved for Wilkes’s
commitment, but the judges refused to grant an order to that effect,
on the ground that he was not legally before the court; Wilkes then
left, accompanied by the plaudits of the spectators. “The Scot’s
Triumph; or, a Peep behind the Curtain” gives a further illustration of
this subject; this print, and another following, are announced in the
_Public Advertiser_:--
“To Connoisseurs.--This day is published a satirical scratch
in the style of Rembrandt, entitled The Scotch Triumph; with
the representation of their amazing exploits in St. George’s
Fields; the murder of the innocent, and the sacrifice of
Liberty, by Molock; with some curious anecdotes.”
In the first version, Wilkes and his friends are driving to surrender
in state; their coach is about to crush a Scotch thistle by the way;
the mob have taken the horses from the vehicle and are dragging it
themselves on the road to the Bench; Wilkes is thus addressing his
vociferous supporters--“Gentlemen and Friends, let me beg you to
desist; I’m willing to submit to the laws of my country.”
All the leading political personages are introduced as spectators.
Lord Holland, an alleged adviser of Lord Bute, is observing, “We have
got him safe in a trap at last.” “Jemmy Twitcher” (Lord Sandwich) is
responding, “Yes, but I much doubt whether we shall be able to keep him
there.” On the 27th of April, Wilkes again came up for judgment, and
was then committed to the King’s Bench Prison. On his way thither, in
the custody of two tipstaffs of Lord Mansfield, the coach was stopped
by the people, a further popular demonstration was made, the horses
were removed, and the vehicle drawn through the city by an enthusiastic
crowd, the marshal’s deputies being invited to get out. He finally was
escorted to a public-house, the Three Tuns Tavern, in Spitalfields
(or Cornhill, according to Walpole’s account); from thence, after the
departure of his demonstrative admirers, Wilkes judged it prudent
to make his escape, and surrender himself again, this time at the
prison gates and to the marshal of the King’s Bench. When the news
of his incarceration reached the mob there was a fresh uproar; the
day following, the prison was surrounded, the palings enclosing the
footpath were torn up and made into a bonfire, and the inhabitants of
Southwark found themselves under the necessity, either of illuminating
their houses, or of taking the consequences; the mob dispersed on the
arrival of a small guard.
Meanwhile Sergeant Glynn was arguing before all the judges of the Court
of King’s Bench respecting the errors of Wilkes’s outlawry; while,
from his place of confinement, Wilkes next proceeded to address his
sympathizing constituents:--
“TO THE GENTLEMEN, CLERGY, AND FREEHOLDERS OF THE COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX.
“GENTLEMEN,
“In support of the liberties of this country against the
arbitrary rule of ministers, I was before committed to the
Tower, and am now sentenced to this prison. Steadiness,
with, I hope, strength of mind, do not however leave me;
for the same consolation follows me here, the consciousness
of innocence, of having done my duty, and exerted all my
abilities, not unsuccessfully, for this nation. I can submit
even to far greater sufferings with cheerfulness, because I
see that my countrymen reap the happy fruits of my labours
and persecutions, by the repeated decisions of our Sovereign
courts of justice in favour of liberty. I therefore bear up
with fortitude, and even glory, that I am called to suffer in
this cause, because I continue to find the noblest reward,
the applause of my native country, of this great, free, and
spirited people.
“I chiefly regret, gentlemen, that this confinement deprives
me of the honour of thanking you in person, according to my
promise; and at present takes from me, in a great degree, the
power of being useful to you. The will, however, to do every
service to my constituents remains in its full force; and when
my sufferings have a period, the first day I regain my liberty
shall restore a life of zeal in the cause and interests of the
county of Middlesex.
“In this prison, in any other, in every place, my ruling
passion will be the love of England and our free constitution.
For those objects I will make every sacrifice. Under all the
oppressions which ministerial rage and revenge can invent, my
steady purpose is to concert with you, and other true friends
of the country, the most probable means of rooting out the
remains of arbitrary power and Star-chamber inquisition, and of
improving as well as securing the generous plans of freedom,
which were the boast of our ancestors, and I trust will remain
the noblest inheritance of our posterity, the only genuine
characteristic of Englishmen.
“JOHN WILKES.
“_King’s Bench Prison, May 5th, 1768._”
By this letter it will be seen that Wilkes chiefly appealed to what is
best described as clap-trap sensationalism; he continued, however,
to be the cause of constant apprehension, the military and other
authorities taking every precaution to preserve the peace of the
metropolis.
While Wilkes was kept a prisoner in the King’s Bench, the authorities
made demonstrations of resorting to armed force for the ostensible
purpose of preserving the peace of the metropolis, and, taught
precaution by the famous “45” demonstration which followed Wilkes’s
election for Middlesex, to check further rioting with firmness, which
unfortunately degenerated into ferocity.
Parliament met on the 10th of May, Lord Camden being now lord
chancellor. It seems the misconception had arisen that Wilkes’s
outlawry would be reversed, and that in any case he would be suffered
to attend the assembling of parliament. With the design of conveying
him thither in triumph, a great body of people were gathered at the
King’s Bench. Finding their expectations disappointed of seeing the
idol of the hour set at large and reinstated as “the tribune of the
people,” they demanded him at the prison, and grew very tumultuous;
whereupon the Riot Act was read by two justices of Surrey, but the
mob threw stones and brickbats while it was reading, when one of the
spectators, seeing other persons run, ran too, but was unhappily
singled out by a picket of the Scotch Guards, who broke their ranks--a
breach of military discipline--and followed him about five hundred
yards into a cowhouse, and there shot him dead. “Soon after this, the
crowd increasing, an additional number of the Guards was sent for, who
marched thither, and also a party of horse grenadiers (two regiments
had, it appears, been under arms in St. George’s Fields throughout the
disturbances), when, the riot continuing, the mob were fired on by the
soldiers, and five or six were killed on the spot, and about fifteen
wounded, among them being two women, one of whom subsequently died of
her wounds. She was, it appears, trying to move her oranges out of
danger. Another account says (_Gentleman’s Magazine_) several of the
people killed were passing along the road at a distance; and, later
on, it is said not one of the persons actually concerned in the rioting
were hurt by the firing. Several versions of the fatal affair appeared
immediately. The case of the inoffensive youth who was thus barbarously
slaughtered excited general sympathy; his name was William Allen, and
his father was master of the Horseshoe Inn and Livery Stables, Blackman
Street, Southwark. On the Scotch faction was heaped all the opprobrium
of this regretable transaction.”
Among others, appeared the illustration of “The Scotch Victory,” 1768;
on the wall of the outhouse, to which the lad had fled for shelter
when pursued, is “’45,” an allusion to the cruelties of the Highland
raid in 1745, as well as to the “XLV. North Briton.” Alexander Murray,
the officer, Donald Maclury, a corporal, and MacLaughlin, a grenadier,
are shown in the act of assassinating Allen. A halter which lies near
the feet of the soldiers and a sketch of a gallows and a man hanging
indicate the public sentiments on the matter. The letterpress is to
this effect:--
“The monumental inscription on a tombstone erected over the
grave of Mr. William Allen, junior, in the churchyard of St.
Mary Newington, Surrey. ‘Sacred to the memory of William Allen,
an Englishman of unspotted life and amiable disposition, who
was inhumanly _murdered_ near St. George’s Fields, the 10th day
of May, 1768, by Scottish detachments from the army.’
“’Twas Grafton plann’d the horrors of that day;
’Twas Weymouth urg’d th’ enforcing his commands;
’Twas Barrington that gave th’ exciting pay,
The price of blood flow’d through his guilty hands.”
The Duke of Grafton was first lord of the treasury. Viscount Weymouth,
afterwards Marquis of Bath, was one of the secretaries of state; he
had urged the advisability of calling out military aid to strengthen
the civil authority. Viscount Barrington was secretary at war. He had
thought proper to convey to the field-officer in command of the Foot
Guards the royal approval of the men’s behaviour.
[Illustration: “WILKES AND LIBERTY” RIOTS. THE SCOTCH VICTORY. MURDER
OF ALLEN BY A GRENADIER. MASSACRE OF ST. GEORGE’S FIELDS. 1768.
[_Page 174._]
He begged “that they may be assured that every possible
regard shall be shown to them in return for their zeal and
good conduct on this occasion,” “and in case any disagreeable
circumstance should happen in the execution of their duty,
they shall have every defence and protection that the law
authorities, and this Office (the War) can give.”
Justice Gillam, who was the first to give the order to the third
regiment of Guards to fire on the people, was tried for the murder of
Redburn, a weaver; the judges acquitted him of all responsibility,
and complimented him on the humane manner in which he had exercised
his authority. Sergeant Glynn, Wilkes’s friend and adviser, was for
the prosecution. In the course of the evidence it appeared that there
had been assembled in St. George’s Fields a disorderly concourse,
where, after shouting “_Wilkes and Liberty_,” they made an attack on
the King’s Bench Prison, threw stones into the marshal’s house, and
at length burst open the outward gate of the prison, to the terror of
the keepers, who not only feared for the security of their prisoners,
but imagined their own lives were endangered; notwithstanding their
apprehensions, the keepers guarded the inner gates from the mob, so
that the rioters dispersed without effecting their purpose.
The marshal, anticipating another attack the day following, applied
to the magistrates for assistance, as shown in the foregoing. On the
10th of May, a larger mob assembled, repeating the cry of “Wilkes and
Liberty;” whereupon the magistrates began to expostulate with them. The
Riot Act was then read, and its intentions endeavoured to be explained.
The rabble hissed and hooted the soldiers, who endeavoured to scatter
them. At last, a stone struck Justice Gillam, and he ordered the
firing, though, as far as could be proved, there existed no absolute
necessity for this extreme measure. Gillam, who was exhibited to
ridicule as “Midas, the Surrey justice,” appears to have been most
unpopular, if not altogether unfit for the responsible position in
which he was placed; “the note sent to a bookseller by a magistrate” is
attributed to this hero: “Sir, Send me the ax Re Latin to a Gustus of
Pease.” On his trial, James Derbyshire, a bookseller, deposed that Mr.
Gillam said publicly in the hearing of the soldiers, “_that his orders
from the ministry were, that some men must be killed, and that it were
better to kill five and twenty to-day than one hundred to-morrow_.”
According to the Rev. John Horne (afterwards Tooke, and known to fame
as the “Brentford Parson”), who was present at the riot, it was he who
procured the warrant for the arrest of the soldiers. The trial did not
take place until the 9th of August. Witnesses appeared against Donald
Maclury, who was charged with firing the fatal shot; it was Maclury
(or M’Laury) who said “Damn him, that’s him, shoot him.” Mr. Allen’s
ostler declared that when Allen fell, after the prisoner had fired,
Maclury said, “Damn it, it is a good shot.” On his way to gaol, the day
after the murder, it was proved Maclury acknowledged “that what they
had done was in consequence of orders, and he hoped they should obtain
mercy.” The defence was that MacLaughlin, a grenadier, acknowledged to
Mr. Gillam and six soldiers that it was he who shot Allen, and _that
his piece went off by accident_. He had since deserted, and, it was
openly stated in the papers, received one shilling a day to keep out
of the way. The verdict was “not guilty;” and it was admitted that, in
order to save the life of the soldier, who was liable for murder, it
had “been found necessary to suffer the prosecutors to persist in their
mistake in apprehending and impeaching an innocent man, and in the mean
time giving the grenadier who actually fired the gun an opportunity
to escape.” Both soldiers were charged at the King’s Bench, when, by
arrangement, the guilty man was admitted to bail, to be smuggled out of
harm’s way; “the other was remanded back to prison as the person who
actually shot the lad,” according to the proceedings, May 16, 1768.
Another version of the “Scotch Victory,” with the rebus of the
jack-boot standing under a petticoat, and enclosed by Scotch thistles,
forms part of a mock dedication: “To the Earl of (Bute), Protector of
our Liberties, this plate is humbly inscribed by F. Junius Brutus.”
“The Operation,” a frontispiece to the _Political Register_ for June,
1768, shows Lord Bute stabbing Britannia with a dagger, while the
ministers already mentioned in association with the death of Allen are
catching the blood which flows from her wounds:--
“The Blood of Vitals from her wounds he drew,
And fed the Hounds that help’d him to pursue.”
(DRYDEN.)
The _Oxford Magazine_ for 1769 gives an engraving of the monument
finally erected over the grave of Mr. Allen, junior. It represents
an altar tomb enclosed by iron rails: on one side is introduced
the reprobated Scotch thistle, with the legend, “Murder screen’d
and rewarded;” on the other side is shown a Scotch soldier of the
third regiment of Foot Guards, evidently intended for the murderous
MacLaughlin, approaching and pointing to the inscription on the tomb,
exclaiming, “I have obtain’d a pension of a shilling a day, only for
putting an end to thy days!”