A History of Parliamentary Elections and Electioneering 33

A History of Parliamentary Elections and Electioneering 33

“LONDON.

 

“‘O! what! without a spur, Sir John,

And yet your steed is getting on?’

‘The steed is a good one I’m upon.’

 

“Says Madame Squires, in the air,

‘Our friend Sir Crisp need never fear--

Tho’ we are late, we will be there.’

 

“Sir William is not first, ’tis true,

Nor Barnard second, tho’ True Blue,

Glyn will be third--Jack! what say you?

 

“If there is an honest man in the nation

’Tis Bethel, I’ll say it without hesitation,

Nor leave it even to his own arbitration.”

 

The half of the engraving of “All the World in a Hurry,” having

reference to the Oxfordshire elections, may be taken as an introduction

to Hogarth’s famous series of “The Election;” the actual candidates,

besides the contest, being set forth in this earlier version.

 

The two horsemen galloping in advance of their competitors represent

Lord Wenman and Sir James Dashwood, the “True Blue” candidates, who

gained the head of the poll, and were returned as “sitting members,”

but were afterwards, “on a controverted election petition,” displaced

to make room for Lord Parker and Sir Edward Turner, the representatives

of the ruling party, who had been supported from the first with the

entire government interest, and by a decision of the House of Commons

were ultimately seated.

 

In the engraved version of this spirited competition, Lord Wenman is

made to remark, “They are not far behind us, Sir James;” to which

Dashwood responds, “Too far, my lord, to get up with us.” That every

exertion was made is illustrated by the driver of the post-chaise

which contains the ministerial nominees; the Duke of Marlborough,

as postillion, is declaring “his jades, _i.e._ the voters, begin

to kick”--the elections for Oxfordshire having been in the control

of the Marlborough family at former elections; and, in fact, the

same influence was so preponderating, that no opposition after the

election of 1754, now in question, was offered in the county until

1826,--another Sir G. Dashwood was unsuccessful in the Whig interest

in 1830. Sir Edward Turner and Lord Parker are in the ministerial

post-chaise; the duke is proposing to throw over one of his

nominees--“Sir Edward, you had better get out;” his colleague, however,

is resisting this desertion--“You won’t leave me single, Sir Edward?”

The latter is trying to spur their postillion forwards: “Push hard, my

Lord Duke, or we shan’t get in.” Two Whig notabilities are riding at a

distance; one is observing, “Sir James [Dashwood] and my Lord [Wenman]

have got ground on ’em;” his neighbour is confidently replying, “Ay,

and they’ll keep it, my boys.”

 

Last comes the great man of the administration, driving his phaeton

and six. He bids a mounted messenger to “ride forward, and tell my

Lord Duke I would have been with him, but my horses took fright at

a funeral, and won’t pull together;” the Duke of Newcastle is the

person represented, and the circumstance to which he attributes

the restiveness of his six-in-hand was the death, just before the

dissolution of parliament, of his brother Henry Pelham, a man of

superior abilities to the duke, who had filled the same offices with a

better hold on his team.

 

 

“OXFORD.

 

“From London into Oxford Town,

See all the world is hurrying down,

Dashwood and Wenman for a crown.

Doodle, Doodle, Do.

 

“The Duke of Newcastle in his Fly

Cannot get up to his grace; for why?

The Funeral! Ah! men will die.

 

“Sir Edward in the chaise you see;

‘Get out, Sir Edward!’ ‘O, no!’ says he;

‘What,’ cries my Lord, ‘must I single be?’

 

“‘My jades begin to kick,’ says his Grace;

‘Sir, you had better leave the place,

And never look them in the face.’”

 

The elections in Oxfordshire were marked by a more animated conflict

than elsewhere; the Jacobite faction was still strong there, although

the comparatively recent fate of those who had declared for the

Pretender served to keep these sympathies within discreet limits.

The contest was strongly marked by incidents which have survived

in the four famous election pictures painted by William Hogarth,

the unequalled originals of which, still in fine condition, are now

somewhat lost to the public in Sir John Soane’s Museum,[44] but of

which the engravings are most familiar. Hogarth sold the series to

his friend David Garrick for the modest price of 200 guineas; at the

sale of Mrs. Garrick’s effects, in 1823, they were secured by Sir

John Soane for the corresponding moderate sum of £1732 10_s._ The

“Election Entertainment” was exhibited at Spring Gardens in 1761.

These characteristic satires seem to apply to electioneering episodes

in general, not only of the eighteenth century, but until within the

present; a recapitulation of the principal allusions, however, will

show that these pictures are composed of studies for the most part

drawn from life, and founded on the actualities of the 1754 contest

in Oxfordshire. The “Election Entertainment,” the first of these

plates, is so well known that it was felt unnecessary to reproduce any

of its incidents. This scene might he taken as a generalistic view

of the electioneering hospitality and “open house,” one of the first

steps towards conciliating support, but that the three “party-cries”

distinctive of this particular struggle are all pictorially

perpetuated. The scene embodies gluttony, turbulence, and false

patriotism, but bribery and violent intimidation prevail above all.

The mayor, who occupies the seat of honour, has succumbed to a surfeit

of oysters, and a phlebotomist of the barber tribe is endeavouring to

blood his arm and cool his head at one time. A ministerial-looking

personage is treated with coarse familiarity, while a youthful aspirant

for popular favour is submitting to tipsified indignities at the hands

of his temporary associates. Nichols, who mentions certain assurances

he received from Hogarth as to the fact that, with one exception, none

of the figures were intended for portraits, affects to recognize the

handsome candidate.[45] This modish gentleman has been treating the

fair sex to gloves, buff or orange favours, and other gear, from the

pack of a pedlar of the Hebrew persuasion, who is also dealing in notes

of hand; he holds one for £20 from the candidate, signed “R. Pention”

(Pension being the word). While the Court party is regaling the Buffs,

or Old Interest, at the leading tavern, their opponents, the Blues, are

making an out-of-door demonstration; so that a view of the humours of

both sides is simultaneously afforded. The New Interest procession is

composed of “bludgeon-men,” bearing an effigy of the Duke of Newcastle,

with the colours of the Old Interest, and a placard round his neck,

“No Jews,” in allusion to the unpopular Act introduced by the Pelhams

(1752) to permit the naturalization of foreign Jews. Another cry,

inscribed on a blue standard, is “Liberty and Prosperity,” while a

huge blue flag bears the inscription, “Increase and multiply in spite

of old ----,”[46] in reference to the recent Act for the regulation of

marriages, which had encountered much opposition and given offence to

the multitude. An animated exchange of missiles between the political

antagonists is proceeding through the window; those within are

standing a siege from showers of bricks, to which they are replying

with a volley of fluids and furniture showered on the heads of the

passing patriots; while a rival detachment of Old Interest hirelings,

displaying their orange cockades, being armed with oak cudgels, and

headed by a partisan with a drawn sword, is sallying forth to make a

diversion on the besiegers. A champion Orange bludgeon-man, seated on

the floor in the foreground, has evidently returned from a raid on

the foe, in which he has had his head broken, but he has succeeded

in carrying off one of the obnoxious blue standards. A butcher, with

a “Pro Patria” favour twisted round his head, is pouring gin upon

the bruiser’s cracked cranium, which he has first plastered with a

“Your vote and interest” card; the doughty champion is reviving his

spirits with the same stimulant; his foot is trampling upon the spoils

of victory, the broken staff and the flag inscribed, “Give us our

eleven days,”--another whimsical popular party cry, explained by the

alteration in the style, introduced in the session 1751, to correct

the calendar according to the Georgian computation, then adopted by

most European nations. To equalize the number of days, so that the new

year should in future begin on the 1st of January, eleven intermediate

days were for that occasion passed over between the 2nd and 14th of

September, 1752, so that the day succeeding the 2nd of that month would

be reckoned as the 14th--an alteration which provoked discontent,

and, in spite of its obvious convenience, was denounced as a Popish

innovation.

 

“In seventeen hundred and fifty-three,

The style was changed to P--p--ry [_Popery_],

But that it is lik’d, we don’t all agree;

Which nobody can deny.

 

“When the country folk first heard of this act,

That old father Style was condemned to be rack’d,

And robb’d of his time, which appears to be fact,

Which nobody can deny;

 

“It puzzl’d their brains, their senses perplex’d,

And all the old ladies were very much vex’d,

Not dreaming that Levites would alter our text;

Which nobody can deny.”

 

(_The Jew’s Triumph._)

 

The business of the meeting, regarding the gluttony and drunkenness

among the diversions, is centred in bribery. The Buff parliamentary

agent has a seat next the unconscious municipal in the chair; before

him is a ledger ruled with columns for “sure votes” and “doubtful.” The

occupations of thi