A History of Parliamentary Elections and Electioneering 77

A History of Parliamentary Elections and Electioneering 77

Sir John Elley leaves his committee forlorn, and is sought for far and

near without success:--

 

“Some time after, Sir John did recede,

A Bachelor passed him o’er Runnymede;

A Skeleton tall passed before his sight,

He thought the form was the good old knight;

And a death-like voice did grate on his ear--

‘We never have any corruption here;

This is sacred ground, so go back and relate,

_Magna Charta_ has strangled your dear Candidate.’”

 

Two years later, another appeal to the country was impending. At the

beginning of 1837, HB produced a figurative prospect of the situation,

as “A New Instance of the Mute--ability of Human Affairs.” The British

Constitution, that fabled “admiration of surrounding nations,” and

“monument of the collective wisdom of generations,” is at last

moribund: the fatal hour has arrived, and the chamber of mourning is

presented to view. Mounted upon sable trestles, and covered with a rich

pall, is the coffin which contains the defunct, according to the plate,

“Died 1837, of the prevailing Influenza, the British Constitution of

1688, aged 149 years;” the mutes, with trappings of woe, stationed on

either side of the coffin, are Lord John Russell and Spring Rice.

 

In March, 1837, HB gave the public a version of that appeal to the

constituencies, then becoming more imminent: “Going to the Fair with

It. A cant phrase for doing anything in an extravagant way--known, it

is presumed, to most persons.” The three performers are in the thick

of the fair, within the circle of booths; one tent has the sign of the

“King’s Head,” with the Union Jack flying, another mounts the sign

of “The Mitre.” Dan O’Connell is seated on the ground as a conjuror,

with a paraphernalia of swords, rings, and balls--“Irish titles and

appropriation clause” among the former. He is performing the “great

sword-swallowing trick,” with a blade marked “Repeal.” Spring Rice,

dressed as a tumbler, is balancing a block on a stick which rests

on his chin. The chief attraction, the only performance which is

absorbing the wonder of the entire spectators, is that of the acrobat,

Lord John Russell, who is sustaining himself in the air raised on

a single support, marked, “Irish Corporation Bill.” John Bull, who

occupies the central position, cannot disguise his interest in the

feat: “Well done, little ’un; you’ve got up a surprising height--take

care how you let yourself down.” The Duke of Wellington is counselling

John Bull: “These tricks are decidedly dangerous, and should not be

encouraged.” Sir Robert Peel and Lord Stanley are in conference, as

retired professors of conjuring. “This is the great trick now--the

stilts are quite discarded.” A bishop is observing, “That man balances

very inequitably.”

 

On the other side are grouped various critics of the performance.

Lord Ebrington considers the trick “wonderful, even more astonishing

than the Stilts.” Sir William Molesworth declares, “They deserve

encouragement, but they don’t go half as far as they ought.” Hume also

thinks, “it is very well as far as it goes!” Lord Brougham, wearing his

distinguishing plaid trousers, is in conference with Mr. Roebuck as to

starting an opposition show: “What do you think if we were to set up a

little concern of our own: you would make a very nice little Tumbler,

and I--you know, am an old hand that way!” Sir Francis Burdett, who had

given some surprising performances in his time, is leaving the fair,

declaring, “I can’t stand it any longer;” while his associate, Sir J.

C. Hobhouse, advises him to wait a while, “Don’t go yet; the best of

the sport is to come!”

 

The struggles, twists, and contortions of ministers to keep in place,

and the involutions of “Ins and Outs,” were ably parodied, a few months

before the dissolution, as the “Fancy Ball--Jim Crow Dance and Chorus”

(April 17, 1837); in which the most prominent movers of both parties

are travestied in fancy costumes, out-at-elbows, and with blackened

faces--the likenesses admirably preserved; and executing a reel worthy

of “Chimney Sweeps’ Day;” the whole arranged to the then-popular air

of “Jump Jim Crow,” introduced at that time by an actor named Rice--the

forerunner of the “Christy Minstrels” of a later generation. The

central figures are--O’Connell, who is making a contemptuous gesture,

and his partner, Lord Melbourne; Wellington and Peel are _vis-à-vis_;

Stanley and Graham are jigging gaily together, so are Lords Abinger and

Lyndhurst; Sir Francis Burdett and General de Lacy Evans are figuring

back-to-back in approved Irish-jig style; and Spring Rice is getting on

well to a lively measure along with Lord John Russell.

 

“Behold the Politician!

Out of place he’ll never go,

But to keep it, don’t he turn about

And jump Jim Crow?

 

“Turn about, and wheel about,

And do just so,

The only Cabinet Quadrille

Is jump Jim Crow!”

 

Sir Francis Burdett--the “seven-stringed Jack” and admirer of the

French revolution of Gillray’s cartoons, the fiery Radical of

Cruikshank’s early flashing squibs--after a career of remarkable

prominence as a zealous innovator and friend of reform, quixotically

riding full tilt against abuses of all kinds, was exhibiting himself,

in the session about to close his old career, as a convert to fine

full-bodied Tory principles. HB has pictorially given the contests

the famous baronet had waged with the mighty Dan O’Connell, whose

“repealing” proclivities seem finally to have opened Burdett’s eyes

as to the desirability of preserving the integrity of the kingdom.

His highly characteristic speech at the Westminster hustings is the

best exposition of his changed opinions. In his picture of “A Fine

Old English Gentleman, One of the Olden Time” (May 10, 1837), Doyle

has commemorated the baronet’s final accession to the country party,

by drawing Sir Francis in his familiar guise--blue coat, tightly

buttoned, with swallow tails, white vest and ample white cravat, white

cords, and top-boots,--seated, a prisoner in his own apartments,

suffering from an attack of gout. A picture of the Tower, hung on the

wall, indicates a previous episode of imprisonment, when Burdett became

an inmate of that edifice (April 6, 1810); he was the last political

prisoner confined there. It was felt that the baronet’s connection with

Westminster was about to be severed; however, he offered himself for

re-election, that his old constituents might pronounce upon his action.

 

The candidature of Mr. Leader formed the subject of several of Doyle’s

suggestive sketches. In “Following the Leader” (May 12, 1837), HB

has given a fanciful version of the candidate’s supporters impressed

as boardsmen. O’Connell heads the file, with a placard “Leader for

Westminster.” Lord Melbourne is advertising “Leader and Reform of the

House of Lords.” Lord John Russell, as a “sandwich” man, announces

“Annual Parliaments, Universal Suffrage, and Vote by Ballot;” Lord

Palmerston’s board declares, “I am a Tory, and was always a Tory.” Sir

William Molesworth, Hume, and others bring up the rear, with “Leader

for Westminster” placards. The Duke of Wellington and Sir Robert Peel

are surveying the demonstration from a distance, “These, I suppose, are

some of the Pismires!”

 

“May Day in 1837” is another ingenious version of the political

situation. The figure enclosed in the green, which is surmounted by

the crown, is the king, William IV.; he is getting nervous at his

situation: “I have got into a warm berth, it must be owned; indeed,

it grows rather Hellish.” Melbourne makes a handsome “my lord,” and

Russell’s figure just suits “my lady.” Lord Morpeth is a serviceable

clown. The whole dance is performed to the drum accompaniment of Dan

O’Connell. Spring Rice, as chancellor of the exchequer, is going

round to John Bull for the supplies, much to the national prototype’s

surprise: “You little spooney! How came you to be entrusted with the

ladle, eh?” Sir Francis Burdett, still in his sweep’s disguise, is

stalking off from the concern: “These ’ere fellers grow so werry wulgar

that a gentlemen can’t keep company with them no longer.”

 

It was on this occasion that Sir Francis Burdett,--finally forsaking

those Radical principles upon which he had been returned in the first

instance for Westminster in 1807--for which important city he had sat

until 1837,--appealed to the constituency which had elected him for

thirty years, and, with that chivalrous spirit which distinguished

his nature, challenged the votes of his supporters as to how far his

changed politics might enlist their approval, and invited his friends

to pronounce their verdict on his conduct. Upon the baronet’s appeal to

his constituents, in the character of “a fine old English gentleman,

all on the Tory side,” when, in May, 1837, he resigned his membership

for Westminster as a Radical, and offered himself as a Tory candidate,

he was opposed by John Temple Leader, a prominent Radical politician.

Party feeling was considerably intensified, and ungenerous efforts

were made by his late Radical colleagues to inflict the mortification

of a defeat upon the reformed baronet. The famous agitator, Daniel

O’Connell, whose collision with Burdett was among the chief causes of

his changed opinions, exerted himself to the utmost to bring about the

discomfiture of his opponent, who, in return, dealt scathing contempt

upon the arch-agitator. Many political satires and squibs were produced

on this occasion, and, in a literary and artistic point of view,

one feature of great interest associated with this incident was the

appearance of an electioneering caricature by the author of “Vanity

Fair.” The Marquis of Wharton, Swift, Burns, Sir Hanbury Williams,

Canning, Moore, and many eminent poets, writers, and statesmen have

originated electioneering ballads, and Thackeray has associated his

name with a pictorial squib; in 1837, he was, as part-proprietor and

contributor, associated with the unfortunate venture (as regards the

inroad its subsequent failure made on his fortune), the _Constitutional

and Public Ledger_--a daily journal, of ultra-liberal views; and as

its programme included extension of popular franchise, vote by ballot,

equal civil rights, religious liberty, and short parliaments, it may

be imagined that the political creed which he at that time professed

inclined Thackeray to look with disfavour upon the converted Burdett as

an apostate from his faith: he has expressed this view in a political

satire addressed to the electors of Westminster. The picture, a quarto

leaf, was presented with the _Guide_ (May 13, 1837). It represents Sir

Francis Burdett and his opponent, Leader, on the hustings, as “The

Rivals; or, Old Tory Glory and Young Liberal Glory.” Sir Francis is

represented as decrepit, and a martyr to the gout--another attribute of

a “fine old English gentleman”--from which the baronet suffered much in

later life; his foot is swathed in flannel, and crutches support him to

stand; his coat is worn inside out, and a glory round his head alludes