CHAPTER XIII.

ELECTIONEERING, POLITICAL WARFARE, AND PARLIAMENTARY REFORM UNDER WILLIAM IV., 1830-32.

The last parliament of George IV.’s reign met November 14, 1826. Towards the close of the session, as is shadowed in Doyle’s early cartoons, the nation was tiring of the Tories, and the unpopular and somewhat antiquated Wellington Ministry found the country in distress and clamorous for retrenchment, to each of which complaints the rigid disciplinarian in chief command turned a deaf and unsympathetic ear. Towards the middle of the year 1830 the king’s condition was threatening, and with his impending decease the close of the session was anticipated. The situation is pictorially summed up in one of HB’s sketches as the “Present State of Public Feeling Partially Illustrated” (May 28, 1830). The views entertained by various individuals upon the king’s illness are illustrated in their persons: a dandy regrets the postponement of routs and balls, a speculator complains of the dulness of the funds, a merchant finds business at a standstill, while a lady of fashion is resigned to the will of Providence by the opportune reflection that should the king die there would be the gayer prospect of a queen and Court--an advantageous exchange for a sovereign shrouded from his subjects. John Bull good-naturedly declares he hopes George may recover, “he was such a fine princely fellow!” But the part of this picture which applies most pertinently to the subject in hand is found in a member of the Tory Government, who is reflecting “That should there be a change in the ministry--then I must walk out. That would be very inconvenient at the present. I wish most sincerely His Majesty won’t die yet!” while another M.P. is filled with apprehension: “There will he a dissolution of parliament, and I shall lose my seat, and with it all chance of preferment. Oh, I pray God to preserve His Majesty’s life these many years.” Swiftly indeed, and somewhat unexpectedly too, came the end of the king’s reign and the inauguration of a more liberal _régime_.

The next day appeared HB’s version of the “Mourning Journal--Alas! Poor Yorick” (May 29, 1830), showing the Duke of Cumberland and Lord Eldon as mutes in attendance on the (to them) melancholy occasion of their chief’s decease. “The Magic Mirror, or a Peep into Futurity” (June 8, 1830), shows a magician favouring John Bull with the prospect he might anticipate: the youthful Princess Victoria becoming the point of contention on the one hand between her mother, the Duchess of Kent, and her uncle, Prince Leopold, of Liberal proclivities, and the Tory pressure of her uncle, the Duke of Cumberland, assisted by the Duke of Wellington, on the other.

While the dissolution was impending, Doyle indicated the revival of Whig prospects, “The Gheber worshiping the Rising Sun” (July 6, 1830) shows Mr. (afterwards Lord) Brougham paying his devotions to “William IV. Rex,” the head of the king on the gold coin, known as “a coronation medal,” rising over the waters, and taking the place of the orb of day. Parliament dissolved on July 24th. Owing to some intrigues of the old campaigner at this emergency, the Duke of Wellington was made to appear as “A Detected Trespasser,” ordered off the slopes of Windsor by “John Bull, Ranger:” “Halloa, you sir; keep off the grass (see anecdote, _Times_, July 19th).”

Another pictorial version of strategies in high life is entitled “Anticipation; or, Queen Sarah’s visit to Bushy” (July 27, 1830). At the door of the Lodge at Bushy, where resided the Duke and Duchess of Clarence, is the carriage of Lady Jersey, with attendants in her handsome liveries. One of her footmen is imparting the unwelcome intelligence, “Duchess not at home, my lady.” The Duke of Wellington, who is on horseback at the other side of the carriage, is consoling Lady Jersey’s disappointment: “Never mind, never mind, I’ll get you a key to what is going on here thro’ my dear little St. James’s Marchioness.” The duchess’s footman, in the royal livery, cannot fathom the intrigue: “I wonder what brings her down here now? I have been in this place these twelve years, and never saw her here before!”

What unknown marvels might be anticipated from the combinations of party, is hinted in the “_Un_-Holy Alliance, or An Ominous Conjunction” (July 29, 1830), showing the Duke of Cumberland and Lords Durham, Grey, and Eldon in close confabulation. “Old Bags,” as the whilom lord chancellor was irreverently christened, is characteristically “laying down the law,” for the enlightenment of his comrades in this strangely assorted quartette.

A general and somewhat conventional satire on the possible conduct of candidates before, upon, and after their return, appeared among the “Election Squibs and Crackers for 1830,” “Look on this Picture, and on that.” “General Election--dedicated to Electors in General--the difference between one hour after the return, and one month after.” The voter represented is evidently a prosperous mechanic; he wears the colours of the newly elected one in his hat, and is thus addressed by the member he has contributed to return: “My worthy, my best friend, it will be my constant study to comply with your wishes--how can I serve you? Let me see you often; pray come to the Hall; we shall be so happy to see you.” This overcoloured state of things is strangely altered within a month; the candidate is now a full member, and is evidently studying his own interests to the exclusion of those of his constituents; in his hand is a peremptory Government “whip,” thus worded: “Ministers wishing to pass the measure, your vote will be required.” The legislation in question appears to threaten the welfare of his late enthusiastic supporter, who has ventured to interview his member on the momentous topic: “Sir, there is a Bill about to pass that will quite ruin our trade, and bring our families to beggary. I hope, sir, you will use your influence to throw it out.” The member now wears an indignant expression: “You are an impudent fellow! I don’t know you, and, if I did, do you suppose I should be dictated to, fellow?” This plate was executed by William Heath, and issued by T. McLean, of the Haymarket. Perhaps the most notable feature is an announcement that “Election caricatures can be executed for gentlemen in three hours.” This advertisement, appended to the caricature in question, is curious. Of course, for a not-extravagant consideration, intending candidates could secure the playful services of William Heath for rendering ridiculous or contemptible the persons and principles of their antagonists, and for the exaltation of their own.

LOOK ON THIS PICTURE--AND ON THAT.

ELECTION SQUIBS AND CRACKERS FOR 1830. BY W. HEATH.

[_Page 346._]

Political satirists, happily for themselves, as a rule (with one or two exceptions, such as Sayer and HB) have soared above mere party distinctions; and though it may at first sight strike the observer as indicating a looseness of principles--rather, say, a freedom from prejudices--that each gifted artist seems to lash and laugh at both sides alternately to the best of his abilities, some allowance must be made for the impartiality which enables these latter-day Juvenals to detect the foibles of either faction. As a rule, it may be assumed the old generation of famous caricaturists, taking Gillray, Rowlandson, and George Cruikshank as the most eminent exponents, rather leaned to the popular side of any given question; but, inclination apart, they were just as capable of glorifying “the powers that be,” and of “dusting the jackets” of the would-be reformers. Of this trio, Cruikshank particularly prided himself, as he has himself recorded, upon espousing the side of right against palpable wrong, and of championing the weak against the strong. But, in spite of this pleasing illusion, his caricatures are equally trenchant on either side--to-day the Regent is demolished, to-morrow his unfortunate wife is held up to opprobrium, with happy nonchalance and impartiality. In fact, it may be said of Gillray, as the specimens of his ability in this direction sufficiently demonstrate, that his pictorial satires against Pitt and the Tories were equalled only by his satires directed against Fox and the Whigs, or the youthful Burdett and the Radical reformers of his earlier day.

Apropos of the same general elections, we find our old friends, Sir Francis Burdett and his whilom preceptor and champion, William Cobbett, of _Political Register_ repute, engaged in what the artist delineates as “A _Character_-istic Dialogue” (September 2, 1830). “Peter Porcupine,” having parliamentary aspirations, is applying to his ancient pupil and ally for a voucher: “Being much in want of a character, I make bold, Sir Francis, to ask you for one; it appearing that your benevolence in this way embraces all sorts of criminals, you cannot consistently refuse me!” Burdett, in spite of this touching reference to his exertions on behalf of the prisoner inmates of Coldbath Fields, is turning a haughty front to the applicant: “I cannot do anything for you; your character is already _Registered_.” With the reformed parliament, Cobbett was returned for Oldham. In the House he disappointed expectations, and was regarded as somewhat in the light of a failure.

The usual changes of seats had taken place in the course of the elections, and it was hinted that the Wellington-Peel Administration might find it expedient to increase its strength by the infusion of new blood, with a view to the “power-to-add-to-their-numbers” policy. The chiefs still in office are shown by Doyle as visiting “The Noodle Bazaar” (September 9, 1830, Q. and HB delt.). Reviewing the files of various assorted “bustoes,” Wellington, using his eye-glass, is observing to his colleague, “Peel, I am in great want of a few good heads to place in our Cabinet before the opening of the new House in October, and I see some here which I think would answer, if they could be had on reasonable terms.” Peel, alive to the results of the elections, is replying, “I perceive that the places of some have been changed, and their value raised since I last saw them, and pray observe the strange mixture of heads upon the _upper shelf_.” The Peers who, according to the notification below them, “May be had separately or together,” occupy the upper shelf, and below is a cabinet of busts for sale, ready assorted. The shelved lords offer a motley choice: Lords Grey, Eldon, Holland, Lansdowne, the Duke of Cumberland, etc.,--all statesmen out of work. Below the upper shelf is a platform on which is an assorted ready-made ministry (of busts) arranged in a regular order. “This group is to be sold in one lot. Every head has its price marked on it.” The respective busts represent Huskisson (president of the Board of Trade), Grant (colonies), Palmerston (foreign secretary), Melbourne (home secretary), etc. On a pedestal marked “Yorkshire, to wit,” is the brazen bust of Henry Brougham, the plinth with the word “Rolls” struck out in favour of “Chancery.” The bust of Hume in marble stands on a square and massive pediment, marked “Middlesex.” O’Connell is below in clay; he is thus ticketed: “This head won’t be sold--(until it be bought).” A row of lesser men on a shelf in the distance bears the advertisement, “These small busts may be had remarkably cheap.” The bust of Charles X. is just upset; while, on a high plinth, marked “The People’s Choice--a French pattern of inestimable value,” stands his successor, Louis Philippe. The Dey of Algiers is also thrown aside, while Lords Manners, Redesdale, and Sidmouth are among the “antiques,” obsolete patterns, and “oddments.”

The proverbial independence of John Bull’s character is playfully called in question (September 10, 1830), the national prototype being represented (not for the first or last time) as “The man wot is easily led by the nose.” The _Times_ is the potential leading organ to which John Bull is attached in the way described; he is exclaiming, in happy delusion, “What a glorious thing it is to enjoy the liberty and independence of an Englishman!”

The displacement of the Wellington-Peel Cabinet followed a little later on. We next see the Duke of Cumberland surrendering office: “Resignation and Fortitude; or, the Gold Stick.” The king is seated busied in State affairs, the ex-Gold Stick, handing in the wand of office, is remarking, “I have now only to cut my stick and be off!” William IV., still pen in hand, replies briefly, “Thank ye, brother, thank ye,” being evidently reconciled both to his situation and the enormous sacrifice involved.

Incidentally we find a reference to the general election which was then engaging public attention; Doyle has ingeniously given a novel turn to his view of one of the candidates, by introducing a comparison with a performer who was also enjoying popular notice, “The Rival Candidates” (August 9, 1830). There are two hustings erected, and the crowd of free and independent electors is filling the intervening space. The satire is evidently aimed at Sir Alexander Grant, who, standing in front of his committee, is pointing, with a self-satisfied air, to his chin, of which Doyle has made the most. His rival is Michel Boai, “the musical wonder,” a Tyrolese performer, who “played tunes on his chin” by sheer muscular force. He is shown hammering his nether jaw with his fists, and giving a specimen of his chin-proficiency, supported by another minstrel with a small violin. Boai’s performance has won the sympathies and suffrages of his audience, who have with one accord turned their backs upon Sir A. Grant, and are applauding the new musical marvel. Boai’s agent is skilfully “working the oracle” while drawing attention to the rival booth:--

“The hon^{ble} Gentleman opposite has certainly a most extraordinary chin, and when he places his claims to your suffrages upon that broad and ample basis, it must be GRANTed that he rests his hopes upon some foundation; but, Gentlemen, the Candidate whom I propose to you possesses such transcendent superiority in this important feature that I feel BOAIed up with confidence, when I claim for him your triumphant preference (cheers); and, Gentlemen, permit me to add that, in the event of his return, which I now consider certain (cheers), few orators in the hon: House will command more attention, or be listened to with so much pleasure.”

That the interests of the Wellington Cabinet were in jeopardy is pictorially conveyed. “The Unsuccessful Appeal” (September 25, 1830) shows John Bull arm-in-arm with the king, while Wellington is pointing to a distant movement amongst the crowd, and asking Mr. Bull’s protection against his political foes. “My good old friend, I want your assistance against these fellows, who are about to unite for the purpose of overpowering me by numbers.” The inimical confederates are Brougham and Lords Holland, Durham, Grey, etc., on the one side, who are fraternizing with Lord Eldon, the Duke of Cumberland, and others, on the other. Johnny is thus responding to the old campaigner’s appeal:--

“I should be sorry to see you defeated by such an unholy alliance after all the battles we have fought and won together; but the fact is, I feel so oppressed with the glory of so many victories, that I must beg to be excused from interfering any more for the present in the disputes of others. There are, however, plenty of clever fellows to be had, who are able and willing enough to assist you, but when you again meet with such, let me advise you not to be too ready to quarrel with them!”

William IV. is quite at one with his friend, the last speaker--“Whatever you say, John, I will agree to; for _your_ will is _my_ pleasure.”

Before the new parliament assembled, the Cabinet received some damaging assaults from the press. The nature of this concealed warfare is explained by HB in his sketch of “A Masked Battery” (October 4, 1830). The assailant is Henry Brougham: in his legal guise, entrenched behind the “Result of the General Election,” with the _Edinburgh Review_ for a screen, he is bespattering his opponents, the beleaguered “Ins,” with ink. The Tory Cabinet is suffering severely: Wellington is to the front, trying to ward off the shower from Brougham’s inkstand-battery; in his hand is a damaging attack on paper,--“The Duke of Wellington and the Whigs.” Sir Robert Peel is endeavouring to shelter himself behind his chief. Lords Bathurst, Ellenborough, Lyndhurst, and Aberdeen are all suffering from the assault.

When the House met, we get a prospect of the prime minister reviewing his forces--“A Cabinet Picture” (November 5, 1830). Wellington, with his colleagues, Lords Aberdeen, Lyndhurst, Bathurst, Rosslyn, Melville, and others, whom the chief is thus addressing:--

“Having been obliged to recognize the King of the French, we must, as a set-off--acknowledge our friend Miguel. The Belgians--poor people!--not knowing how to take care of themselves, must be protected from the evils of independence! So much for foreign affairs, now for domestic. I say that our present system is the very perfection of systems, and consequently admits of no improvement; I will go further, and say that, while I have power, no species of reform shall take place! and now--having said it--if Peel will but manage the new Police, Hardinge Ireland, Goulburn [Chancellor of the Exchequer] abstain from projects of finance, and Ellenborough hold his tongue, we may manage to keep our seats for another session.”

After the elections it was evident that things out-of-doors were moving antagonistically to the interests of the Wellington Cabinet, but the “Old Campaigner” still hoped by stratagem to keep in power, although resolute in asserting that while he kept office no species of reform should take place. The premier’s optimist confidence “that his ministry might keep their places for another session” is shown to be misplaced, for the defeat of his ministry was clearly foreshadowed: “Guy Fawkes, or the Anniversary of the Popish Plot” (November 9, 1830), shows that destruction was abroad; and this cartoon is a late exemplification of the old British institution of burning in effigy a minister when out of favour. The political Guy is, of course, Wellington, the hero of a hundred fights, reproduced in straw, tied to a rickety chair, and is gaily borne to the bonfire by a rejoicing mob of statesmen, his political antagonists. Lord Lansdowne leads the way, with a blazing torch to fire the fatal pyre; the bearers are the Duke of Cumberland and Prince George (Duke of Cambridge), Lords Holland, Sidmouth, Eldon, etc.; Aberdeen, Stanhope, and the Duke of Newcastle bring up the rear in a high state of exaltation;--these were the peers who “sapped the Tory defences.”

Wellington was evidently losing popularity, and the lustre he gained in the field was being clouded in the Cabinet; John Bull has to come to his rescue against the rabble, and the valiant captain is once more shown sheltered under the king’s mantle. It appears the lord mayor’s banquet was threatened with a hostile demonstration, and the city magistrate, “Don Key,” was thrown into a deadly state of apprehension by the alleged prospect of being received with “cold indifference.” This cartoon is entitled “The False Alarm; or, Much Ado about Nothing.”

The Wellington tenure of power was doomed, and, like Cæsar’s, his fatal stab was to come from the hand of a colleague, on the inopportune revival of the Eastern Question. “Scene from the suppressed Tragedy, entitled the Turco-Greek Conspiracy,” shows the minister (wearing his well-earned laurels) done to death by the Peers at the foot of Canning’s statue in the forum; the Senators being armed with deadly speeches wherewith to accomplish this tragic immolation. “Et tu Brute” are the hero’s closing words addressed to his past comrade, Lord Londonderry, who is giving the _coup de grâce_.

W. Heath, who was employed by McLean at the time Doyle’s sketches were making their appearance, has given many versions of events during George IV.’s somewhat oppressive reign. At the close of 1830, with the advent to the throne of a more constitutionally-minded sovereign, the artist sums up the dismissal of a Cabinet whose actions he had frequently criticized from a pictorially satirical point of view. In the version of “His Honour the Beadle Driving the Wagabonds Out of the Parish,” November 28, 1830, Heath has impressed Sir David Wilkie’s well-known picture of “The Parish Beadle” into the service of parody. King William IV., as the Bumble of the situation, is making a clean sweep of the relics of the past reign: “Come, be off: no hangers behind--out with you all! I’ll let you see I represent the aristocracy of the parish!” John Bull, who may be considered to have generally endorsed his friend William’s policy with hearty goodwill, is giving his approval: “That’s right, Master Beadle, do your duty and clear the parish of the varments; they’ve been a pest ever since they’ve been here.” The chancellor Lyndhurst, Lord Ellenborough, Goulburn (late chancellor of the exchequer), and the rest, are making a hasty retreat. Peel, dragging his “new police” monkey attached to a string, is hardly reconciled to his banishment from office: “Vell, ve did all ve could to kick up a row afore ve vent!” Wellington, as the “hurdy-gurdy” woman, dressed in the faded splendours of an old soldier’s coat, is making all the noise of which the instrument is capable while retreating with his face to the foe.

The results of the general election of 1830 culminated within a month of the reassembling of parliament in the substitution of a Whig for a Tory ministry, and William IV.’s tenure of the throne was inaugurated by the early adoption of that liberal progress which developed into the larger measure of reform within two years, the most memorable act of his reign. Doyle shows the ensuing distribution of offices, and sketches one of the intrigues for place--Henry Brougham, as “The Coquet,” being tempted by Lord Grey to a political allegiance, and courted on the woolsack with the bait of the chancellor’s wig. After the preliminary skirmishing and cementing of necessary alliances, the end was short, sharp, and decisive, and is embodied by HB with his customary point and felicity, as “Examples of the Laconic Style” (November 26, 1830). The king is “standing at attention;” he has sent for Lord Grey. “Your conditions?” The coming premier answers, “Retrenchment, Reform, and Peace.” “Done!” says the king, holding out his hand on the bargain. The Duke of Wellington, on the left, is stepping off the scene, while John Bull, to the right, is not reluctantly giving his late commander the order, “Right about face, march!”

With the advent of the powerful Whig party came such sweeping reforms that minds accustomed to the old order of things began to take fright. It seemed that national institutions, and those fabled landmarks, “The bulwarks of the constitution,” bid fair to be swept away within six months, and another appeal to the constituencies was imminent. The Tory views of the new order of things were embodied by Doyle (April 4, 1831) in “A Very Prophetical and Pathetical Allegory,” in which it was foreshadowed that the institutions of the country could not survive reform, but must succumb within ten years. This vision conjures up a deserted cemetery, wherein, in woeful anticipation, is erected the tomb of departed greatness: “Here lyeth the British Constitution, which, after a rapid decline of ten years, departed this world, 1841.--I was well; wishing to be better, here I am. _Sic transit gloria mundi._” The Duke of Wellington, as a widowed and ancient crony in deep sables, is shedding a tear, and depositing a wreath on the family vault, which is presumed to contain such honoured dust.

The gloomy forebodings of the Tories are further illustrated with much spirit in the guise of an expected game of “Leap-Frog down Constitution Hill,” April 13, 1831, in which the Whigs are flying over the heads of the opposition. On Constitution Hill stand Burdett, O’Connell, Hunt, and other advanced politicians, crying, “Go it, my boys; we shall soon have it our own way;” the game is proceeding swimmingly down the slope. Lord King has brought down an archbishop--the head of the Church; Lord Althorp is sweeping down the judges; Lord Lansdowne has upset Lord Eldon; Lord Durham directs the tall Duke of Cumberland to stoop his head; Lord Brougham, in his chancellor’s robes, has alighted on the shoulders of the Duke of Wellington; William IV. has “tucked in his head” and “made a back” for Lord Grey; but the premier, in his flying leap, has failed to clear the crown, which is sent spinning. “D----n it,” says the king, “didn’t you tell me you wouldn’t touch the Crown?”

The coming appeal to the country was preceded by the usual political meetings; this circumstance is made the subject of a felicitous parody, “_Anticipated_ Radical Meeting” (April 20, 1831). In one of Hunt’s Matchless (Blacking) carts stands the glib-tongued Radical in the full tide of his harangue; “Hunt, the Matchless Reformer,” is surrounded by the Tory party; the opposition consists of the ex-ministers, and includes Sugden, Peel, Horace Twiss, Wetherell, Goulburn, Ellenborough, Wellington, Aberdeen, and others, who are ironically welcoming and encouraging the oration. Hunt’s speech is thus reported:--

“Will the Bill, I ask, do away with places and pensions? (Cheers.) Will it abolish tithes and taxes? (Cheers.) In a word, will it make the poor rich and happy? (Great cheering.) No! It will do none of these! therefore I say this Bill is all a delusion! (Tremendous cheering and waving of hats.)”

Old Eldon, mounted on the shoulders of his ally, the Duke of Cumberland, is vociferously calling for “One cheer more!”

The House dissolved on the 22nd of April, and the fresh elections took place in May. The nature of John Bull’s complaint and the respective views of the rival practitioners who were called in for consultation are set forth by HB (May 2, 1831) as “Hoo-Loo-Choo--_alias_ John Bull and the Doctors.” The national prototype is seated in an arm-chair; his huge corporation seems to have become utterly unwieldy and inconvenient; he occupies the centre of the picture. His doctors “in and out of place,” are on the respective sides. John Bull is addressing Lord Grey:--

“I can’t say that my bodily health was ever better, or that I ever felt stronger, tho’ to be sure I am not growing younger; but then every one is telling me how deformed I am grown of late, and this tumour--which I have had from my infancy--is all a mass of Corruption.”

Grey, while indicating his colleagues, Althorp and Russell, says in reply, “This deformity is quite inconsistent, believe me, with the nature of your Constitution, and therefore must be got rid of. I will undertake, with your approbation, to remove it, and my assistant, Doctor Russell here, will prepare you for the operation.”

Russell is observing, “I once thought that a case of this description ought to be treated with great caution, and even wrote, as well as talked, a great deal about it, but now I am quite of a different opinion. I think there is nothing like cutting away thro’ thick and thin!”

Sir Robert Peel, one of the dismissed doctors, on mature consideration, is inclined to question his past policy: “Yet I begin to think we could have done better, when we found him determined to think that his Constitution was impaired, to have tried, just in the way of soothing, a gentle alternative course.”

Dr. Wellington is still of his old opinion: “I say that the man has no defect in his Constitution, and that what they call Corruption is necessary to his existence; but now, because he would not believe me, but chose rather to submit to the experiments of those rash operators, Wharncliffe, who is a sensible man, lays all the blame on me.”

The lively proceedings while the returns were preparing were fittingly epitomized by HB as “May Day” (May 4, 1831), setting forth as a “Jack-in-the-Green” performance the new revels of the revisers of the constitution. The king occupies the green, which is topped by a crown, and bears the word “Reform;” the face of William IV. is peeping through the aperture. Earl Grey is “My Lord;” Sir Francis Burdett is almost equally conspicuous. Hobhouse, Hume, and O’Connell are making a good deal of rough music with shovels, and Russell has the Pandean pipes and big drum, on which he is vigorously performing. Lord Brougham, as “My Lady,” is going round with the ladle; he is interrogated by the Duke of Cumberland and Lord Eldon as to the “Man in the Green.” The Duke of Gloucester and Lord Londonderry, among the audience, are regarding “My Lady” with suspicion.

The second portion of the new tactics is developed as “Leap-Frog on a Level; or, Going Headlong to the Devil” (May 6, 1831). The turn of the Reformers has come, and the Radicals are making them submit to the same process as they lately inflicted on the Tories. Carlile is rolling over a churchman to the place of torment, having leaped a trifle too far; the Evil One, as he declares in person, “has come to end your games.” “The Devil you are,” says the author of the tracts. Sir Francis Burdett is unwillingly giving a back, “Have I stooped for this?” His old ally, “Porcupine” Cobbett, is leaping heavily on to the baronet’s shoulders, “My turn now, old Glory.” Grey is staggering while Hunt is “overing” him: “I begin to think this is a very disorderly game.” The mob are shouting, “Go it, Hunt,” which is displeasing to the now elevated orator: “D---- the Rabble, they take me for one of themselves.” Brougham is brought to his knees: “Hullo! you’ll have off my wig;” O’Connell, firmly seated on the chancellor’s back, is crying, “Oh! never mind; _I’ll_ take care of that!” The king is brought to the earth; “This is the levelling system with a vengeance.” He is overturned by Hume, who is exclaiming, “This summing-up is the _tottle_ of the whole.”

The House had dissolved on the 22nd of April, 1831, and the elections which ensued were remarkable for spirit. A quantity of literature, in the shape of broadsides, songs, and squibs of a startling character, was produced on this occasion, in such abundance that even for small constituencies in out-of-the-way places these _jeux d’esprit_ form huge volumes. A number of parodies appeared on the great question of the Reform Bill, imitations of scripture among others. Of the ballads published over the border, the one most descriptive of the constitutional struggle is found in a parody of “Chevy Chase.”

“THE NEW CHEVY CHASE.

“God prosper long our noble king, Our lives and safeties all; Some dreadful battles late there were Fought in St. Stephen’s Hall.

“Long o’er the land, with pride and scorn, The Tories held their sway; The child will rue that is unborn, That has their debts to pay.

“The Tory Lords throughout the land, A vow to God did make, Their pleasure in their borough towns As formerly to take.

“For they would keep their borough towns, Whate’er the King might say. These tidings to Lord Russell came, In Bedford, where he lay.

“Who sent the Tories present word, He would prevent their sport; These noble Lords not fearing him, Kept up their old resort:

“With nigh two hundred Tories bold, All men of the old light, Who knew full well, but would not own, They were not in the right.

“Dark rumours through the country ran, And many filled with fear-- And an old ‘Blacking man,’ called Hunt, At Preston did appear.

“And long before this time they had Been lab’ring in vain, And fencing round their borough towns, That must be sieged and ta’en.

“The Bill-men muster’d on the hills, Unable to endure; They of their bare backs show’d a part, Their clothing being poor.

“The ancient Whigs in front did stand, Not one was seen to quake; And with loud cries the hills and vales Were rous’d for freedom’s sake.

“Duke Wellington stood in the bent, And spoke with haughty sneer-- Says he, ‘Earl Grey he promised, And Russell, to be here.

“‘But now I think they will not come, To meet us here this day.’ With that a trembling pensioner Thus to the Duke did say:--

“‘Lo! yonder doth Lord Russell come-- Earl Grey is in my sight-- Behind I see a countless host, And gloomy as the night.

“‘All men displeased, from hill and dale The King’s name gives them head.’ ‘Fie on the King,’ said Wellington, ‘Although I eat his bread.

“‘And, now, my proud preservatives, Your courage to advance; Upon the plains of Belgium, You know I conquer’d France.

“‘And even the great Bonaparte, That filled the world with fear, I him encounter’d man for man With Blucher in his rear.’

“Lord John upon a gallant Grey, Like his great sires of old, Stood foremost of the company, His bearing it was bold:

“‘Shew me,’ said he, ‘what right have ye To kick up sic a steer,[65] For a few dirty border towns, Worth little goods or gear.’

“The first that then did answer make Was Wellington so free, Who said, ‘We’ll keep our borough towns,-- Corrupted though they be.

“‘For we have bought our borough towns There’s none can that gainsay.’ Then Russell swore a solemn oath, And likewise did Earl Grey.

“‘We will not thus outbravèd be: Proud chief, thy strength we’ll try; We know thee for a bloody man, In this thy strength does lie.

“‘But as we wish for no man’s death, Nor any blood to spill, You see we’ve brought into the field No weapons but a Bill.

“‘Let you and I the matter try, With reason on each side.’ ‘Curse on your cant,’ said Wellington; ‘You Whigs I can’t abide.’

“Then stept a quibbling lawyer forth, Old Wetherell was his name, Who said, ‘he would not have it told In Boroughbridge for shame,

“‘That e’er his captain or himself, While he stood looking on, Would condescend, or reasons give, For reasons they had none.

“‘I’ll do the worst that I can do, These inroads to withstand; While I have power to use my tongue, The robbers I will brand.’

“The Tory archers seized their shafts, And a long-bow they drew, But in the flight they wanted might, And were not pointed true.

“To urge the battle in its need, Lord Althorp bade the bent, He was not filled with any pride, But had a good intent.

“They clos’d full fast on every side, They fought at every mound, Till at the last the Tories yield, And quit the common ground.

“O but it was a joy to see, And likewise for to hear, The grateful sounds that through the land Came pealing on the ear.

“At last Duke Wellington and Grey Came in each other’s sight; Like lions roused they stand at bay, And parley ere they fight.

“‘Yield thee, proud Captain,’ said Earl Grey, ‘In name of our good King; You little think, by this delay, What mischief you may bring.’

“‘Thy praise I will most freely give, And this report of thee, Thou art the most outrageous Duke That ever I did see.’

“‘To yield to thee,’ said Wellington, ‘Would bring me nought but scorn; Bring up the bishops to the fight, And blow the gospel horn.’

“With that there came an arrow keen, Out of a bishop’s bow, That struck Earl Grey upon the head, And almost laid him low.

“But still he spoke these cheering words, ‘Fight on, my merry men all, The bishops they are stumbling-blocks, I’m stunn’d, but will not fall.”

“Then gaining strength, Lord Brougham took The old Earl by the hand, And bade him rest a little while, While he took the command.

“O, but the very heart does bleed, What sorrow does it make, To see the holy men of God Bound to a worldly stake.

“A peer amongst the Whigs there was, Who did the bishops eye, And instantly did vow revenge Upon the carnal fry--

“The brave Lord King, well known to all, Who, with the Bill in sight, And mounted on an iron Grey, Laid on from left to right.

“Lord Harrowby he swiftly past, And Wharncliffe wav’ring near, And sought the dastard bishops out, Where they stood in the rear.

“With such a vehement force and might, He drove down all before; The Bill went through ’twixt Philpotts’[66] legs, And turn’d him fairly o’er.

“So thus Earl Grey was well aveng’d, And did no more complain; A Tory archer then conceiv’d That Philpotts he was slain.

“He had a bow bent in his hand, Made of a rotten tree, An arrow of the self-same root, Without a head, drew he.

“Against the noble peer, Lord King, The rotten shaft was set, But wanting a good Grey goose wing, It fell before it met.

“These battles they were fought at night, Before the rising sun, And when they rung the ev’ning bells, Again the fray begun.

“There was not many nobles slain, But some may yet atone; Lord Eldon sunk, and his last speech Is to all people known.

“Great Sir James Scarlett in the field Was ta’en of small account; John Wilson Croker would not yield, His talking did surmount.

“For Wetherell I needs must wail, As one in doleful dumps, At Bristol town he took leg-bail, With nothing but his stumps.

“On Russell’s side there did not fall, A man who held degree, But all yet live, and yet will fight, If needs should ever be.

“With the Lord Durham, true and staunch Did noble Stanley stand; And Scotland, too, sustain’d her part, Old Joseph shook his brand.

“And the Lord Althorp, he, likewise, Disdained a foot to flee; He held the bill still firm and fast, And promis’d victory.

“Next day did many people come Earl Grey for to bewail; They found the old man at his post, Determin’d to prevail.

“He had assurance from the King, Who thus to him did say-- ‘Betide, betide, whate’er betide, I will support thee, Grey.’

“The news was brought to Edinburgh, Where the French King ’s again, That Wellington had won the fight, And that Earl Grey was slain.

“‘O joyful news,’ King Charles[67] said, ‘Scotland will witness be, That Wellington and Polignac[68] Are Pears of the same tree.’

“Like tidings to King William came, Within a shorter space-- Says he, ‘The bishops are great fools, And really a disgrace.

“‘But God is with us,’ said the King, ‘The people must be free, I will create an hundred Peers, If need should ever be.

“‘Yet shall not Wellington long boast What mischief he does make: I saw him lately with the Queen, I doubt he is a rake.

“‘This vow the King he will perform, In honour of the crown; A hundred peers he can create, Or knock a hundred down.

“‘Then Peers will be of small account, And Peel that stood so high, Because he wants consistency, I think we’ll pass him by.’

“God save the King, and bless the land, May all dissensions cease, And grant henceforth that foul debates, Like this, may end in peace.”

This view of the situation is followed up by a cartoon aimed at the opposition tactics, “Votaries at the Altar of Discord” (April 20, 1831). Hunt is the high priest fanning the incendiary flame at the Altar of Discord, before which Sir Robert Peel, who seems to have relinquished power reluctantly, as the mouthpiece of his kneeling followers, is offering this invocation: “Powerful Goddess, deign to hear our prayers; deserted in this, our great extremity, by justice and wisdom, we fly to thee as a last refuge.” The other devotees are Horace Twiss, Goulburn, Dawson, Sadler, Sir E. Sugden, Sir C. Wetherell, Earl Carnarvon, and the Dukes of Wellington and Newcastle. The opposition in the Upper Chamber was in a highly excited state, an example of this is given in “Peerless Eloquence” (April 25, 1831). Lord Londonderry is boiling with indignation: “Is it to be endured, I ask, that we should be called _things_--things with Human pretensions? What was the fish-woman’s virtuous indignation at being called ‘an individual’ to this? Nothing!” Brougham, on the woolsack, remains calm under the torrent; Lords Aberdeen and Wharncliffe, with the Duke of Wellington, are placidly surveying the outraged senator.

The slaughter of the innocents is figuratively told (May, 1831) in a novel edition of the “Niobe Family.” Lord Grey is the destroyer, his arrows are marked “Reform.” The Niobe of this version is the Duke of Newcastle; the smitten are Sir Charles Wetherell, Attwood, Sadler, and others, whose constituencies were threatened with extinction under the Reform Bill.

The motion for reform, then in full swing, is summed up from a Tory standpoint (May 13, 1831); the legend of “John Gilpin” is pressed into the service of the caricaturist.

“Away went Gilpin, neck or naught, Away went hat and wig, He little dream’d when he set out, Of running such a rig.”

William IV. is, of course, the Gilpin of the situation; the bottles slung to his side are ginger-beer ones--“Rotunda Pop” and “Birmingham Froth;” the “Grey” horse is running away with the king at a dashing pace, and the crown is dislodged in the scuffle. John Bull, the pike-keeper, has thrown open his gate, and is highly excited at the sport: “Go it, my lads, never mind the turnpike!” Burdett is enjoying the fun, but opines, “The Grey is evidently running away with him.” Hume, Hunt, O’Connell, Cobbett, and others are following on horseback in the king’s wake. One cries, “Make way, make way; we’ve a great stake depending on it.” The Irish Repealer is urging on the pace, “Go along, never mind the geese and old women.” The “geese” wear coronets, to symbolize the scared peers scattered by the onslaught; and the “old apple woman” capsized in the rush is old Eldon, the Tory ex-chancellor; Croker is a “croaking” raven. The sign of the inn is changed to a new version of the Crown up in the oak tree, and the balcony is filled with the late ministers, travestied as the ladies of the Gilpin party. Wellington is distressed beyond measure at this alarming spectacle, and is appealing to John Bull: “Good Mr. Gatekeeper, stop him; he doesn’t know where he is going!” Sir Robert Peel exclaims, “Oh, John Gilpin! John Gilpin! where are you going? Don’t you know your old friends?” Goulburn is declaring, “He must have lost his senses to ride at such a rate!”

Another admirable version, the felicity of which has been much appreciated, is entitled “The Handwriting on the Wall” (May 26, 1831). The King, taking his constitutional stroll in the Park, has come upon the inscription, in huge white letters, painted on the wall, “Reform Bill!” William IV., shading his eyes with his hand, is peering at this legend,[69] exclaiming “‘Reform _Bill_!’ Can that mean me?”

The tendencies of the time were considered fraught with danger; the measures of reform about to be experimentally tested would, it was hinted, produce a political revolution--if not a total subversion of everything; Lord Grey, the Mephistopheles of the situation, as viewed through Doyle’s “Conservative Magnifiers,” occupied an unenviable prominence, and might expect a day of terrible retribution. “Brissot’s Ghost” (May 30, 1831) is the only hint which could be offered to the innovating statesman. The ghastly figure of Brissot, with his decapitated head under his arm, is disclosed to the premier as a startling vision, with a significant warning, drawn from his fatal revolutionary experience:--

“To lead the mob, ‘mid faction’s storm I rode my hobby-horse--Reform, And had it all my own way. Till other levellers ruled the mob, And then I lost my seat and nob, Take warning, my Lord Grey.”

“Macbeth,” with the famous incantation scene, is impressed into the service of parody to sum up the anticipated state of affairs before the meeting of the House; “The Tricolored Witches” (June 6, 1831):--

“Black spirits and white, Yellow spirits and Grey, Mingle, mingle, mingle, You that mingle may.”

There are five witches, wearing Republican red caps, and armed with besoms of destructiveness, assembled round the cauldron.

The three chief witches are Lords Grey, Durham (“Yellow Lambton”), and Brougham. As the ingredients are cast into the blaze, fed by Durham coal, Grey is singing the charm:--

“Forty years of toil and trouble Like a hell-broth now shall bubble. When the pot begins to boil, Sons and daughters seize the spoil. Double, double, toil and trouble, Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.”

Lord Brougham takes up the invocation:--

“Freeman’s votes, and Grants by Charter. First-born rights in ev’ry quarter, Law and Justice, Church and King, These the glorious spoils I bring.”

Lord Durham has his allotted share:--

“Saving-Banks, the Funds, and Rent, Insurances and money lent, Orphans’ Claims, and widows’ pittance, Throw them in, to make a quittance.”

Lords Althorp and Russell are acting as the chorus:--

“Round about the cauldron go, In the Constitution throw.”

The king is unexpectedly surprising the incantation. He is dumbfounded; the charm is already active, and away flies his crown. He is girt with a scarf, “Repentance,” and apostrophizes his reform friends:--

“Filthy Hags! Infected be the air whereon they ride, And damn’d all those that trust them.”

“A _Tale_ of a Tub--and the Moral of the _Tail_!” (June 13, 1831) is another view of the critical juncture, as it was then assumed to be. The old constitutional ship is left for the whale-boat. The monster is in such dangerous proximity that a dash from its tail--while splashing “popular spray” over its would-be captors--threatens a fatal catastrophe. Lord Althorp has thrown over a pretty considerable tub, “Vested Interests and Chartered Rights;” “There,” he is made to exclaim, “amiable monster! In order to please you, we have thrown you all! Should you require more, you must only take ourselves.” Lord Grey is steering; Lords Brougham, Holland, and Durham have the oars. The king, wearing his naval uniform, is trying to keep the crown from falling overboard; he is evidently apprehensive of the worst: “But why approach so near the tail--the good-natured monster may, without meaning any harm, upset us all in one of his gambols!” The man at the helm is reassuring his chief: “My reasons for steering are pretty plain, tho’ fortunately for me some people don’t see them. It is by flattering the tail, that I command the head!” Lord Brougham, “the schoolmaster abroad,” is imparting this useful piece of knowledge: “It has been discovered in the march of Intellect, that the _Tail_ often outstrips the _Head_!” Wellington and Peel have stuck to the ship; the latter is still of opinion that he ought to have made an effort to retain his post: “Yet I can’t but think we might have succeeded in amusing it for a long time with a very small _Keg_.” Wellington is less confident: “I tell you, Bob, the Monster is not to be satisfied!”

Other allusions of a seasonable character were also produced by Doyle, apropos of the tendency of the epoch. One of the best is selected among many, “Varnishing--a Sign (of _the Times_)” (June 1, 1831). The sign of the King’s Head is undergoing renovation; Lord Brougham, in his chancellor’s robes, is mounted on a ladder, and employed in touching up the royal countenance with a pot of varnish. “I think that, considering I was not bred to the trade, I am not a bad hand at bedaubing a King. After all, to produce effect, I find there is nothing like plenty of varnish.” Lord Grey, from an open window, is surveying with marked satisfaction his colleague’s work. “Canning used to talk about a Red Lion; but I say that, in our reforming times, there is no such sign for a (re) publican as a King’s Head, although a Star and Garter is not to be despised!”

The somewhat well-worn subject of the hustings is also treated pictorially amongst the cartoons which appeared during the elections. One version is entitled, “The _Rival_ Mount-O’-_Bankes_; or, the Dorsetshire Juggler” (May 25, 1831). The scene of the hustings is again travestied as a fair. “Bankes and Co.’s Old-Established Booth” is left quite deserted; a pillar of the Church is the solitary patron. “If our friends don’t come up faster, we may shut up shop,” says the showman; while his assistant is declaring, in allusion to the success of the rival show, “This Juggler is juggling all our customers away from us!” The “Nonpareil Juggler” has, in fact, monopolized all the custom. Lord Grey is the showman; he is holding forth his programme to the numerous patrons: “The Bill, the whole Bill, and nothing but the Bill of the Performance of the Nonpareil Calcraft.” The showman, “Grey, Licensed Dealer in Curiosities,” is pointing to a glowing picture of the entertainment to be seen within--Calcraft, in the very act of swallowing a lengthy speech dead against the principles of the reform party as represented by Lord Grey; he is described as “Lately exhibited in the metropolis by Monsieur Villainton, with unheard-of success.” The customers are thus exhorted:--

“Valk up, gemmen, valk up! Here you may see the most wonderful Juggler, _who eats his own words!_ not at all in the usual way practised by pretenders to the ‘Craft, and which is now become almost as common a trick as swallowing the sword, but in a manner the most extraordinary and unparalleled! He likewise plays off many strange antics, quite peculiar to himself and most curious and amusing to behold. I aver, gemmen, I challenge the universal world to produce such a show as this here Juggler makes of himself!”

The crowds are flowing in,--says one, “I am tired of Bankes’s Booth, besides, this _promises_ more amusement;” and another, “I like novelty, so here goes.”[70]

Doyle has given a clever embodiment of a current political situation, borrowed from the illustrious humourist, his predecessor: “LINEal Descent of the Crown.” See Hogarth’s works, “Four Prints of an Election” (June 23, 1832). A modernized version of the sign of the “Crown” is dependent from a beam; Lord Grey, with his face to the building, is seated upon that portion of the support which he is hacking lustily with a sickle, marked “Bill.” Cobbett, Hume, and O’Connell are tugging away at the rope which is to accomplish the downfall. The former exclaims, “If we act in union, we’ll soon bring it to our own level.” Hunt remarks, “I fear his exalted seat will turn his head.” O’Connell is encouraging the dangerous exertions of the Reform chief: “Ply the Bill well there, Grey, and it will soon be all down.”

A reference to the possible effects of changed politics upon the suffrages of constituencies is slyly conveyed by HB’s sketch of “The Cast-off Cloak.” Sir John Hobhouse is standing at the entrance of the War Office; he has removed the red-lined cloak of “Radicalism,” which he is thrusting on his old colleague, Sir Francis Burdett: “Pray relieve me of this, Burdett. I shall find it a great incumbrance in a _warm_ place like this.” The reply of the veteran Sir Francis is more politic: “Ay, but don’t forget that you have an engagement in Covent Garden.[71] You may find the atmosphere rather _cool_ in that quarter.” Burdett’s own political convictions were to undergo as sudden a transmutation, as HB has illustrated a few years later.

As it was felt by the Conservative party that the king, by whose instrumentality the important measure of reform was alone carried, was bound on an enterprise of which the results were doubtful, and, according to their apprehensions, desperate, they tenaciously fought for the inviolability of corruption.

“With nigh two hundred Tories bold, All men of the old light, Who knew full well, but would not own, They were not in the right.

* * * * *

“And long before this time they had Been lab’ring in vain, And fencing round their borough towns That must be sieged and ta’en.”

(_New Chevy Chase._)

According to Doyle’s new version of “Mazeppa” (August 7, 1832), the king is bound and tied to “Reform,” represented as “the wild horse of the steppes,” surrounded by wolves, some of whom bear Tory visages, among which the face of the Duke of Wellington is easily identified. Horse and rider are overleaping the barrier of “Vested Interests,” while beneath the courser rushes the “Revolutionary Torrent,” whose volume is increasing. The success of this spirited version induced the designer to publish a second plate (September 25th), presenting the sequel. It is evident in this--which exhibits the wild horse, and Mazeppa, his rider, extended on the plains, but apparently uninjured--that the threatening vortex of the “Revolutionary Torrent” has been passed, and neither has been swamped; but the king is landed in the midst of the herd of wild steeds, weirdly careering round the prostrate pair are the rest of the tribe, on whose heads appear the faces of the leading advocates of reform--Lord Brougham, Lord Grey, Duke of Richmond, Lord John Russell, Lord Althorp, Sir James Graham, etc.

The new parliament only sat from June 14, 1831, to December 3, 1832. Towards the close of the session (November 22, 1832) it was hinted that ministers were not altogether too happy, and they had flown to stimulants to promote a fictitious confidence. “Ministers and (in) their Cups!” is the title; each has a presentation gold cup in his hand, and a punch-bowl is in the centre of the table. The Ministers are half-seas-over; Grey is singing “Here’s Comfort when we Fret;” Russell is joining in the chorus. Althorp declares, “I am quite overpowered;” and Brougham, who has further been presented with a gold toddy-ladle, is crying, “Ah, this is now the greatest consolation we have left. I wish some one would give poor Palmy a cup!”