A History of Parliamentary Elections and Electioneering 74

A History of Parliamentary Elections and Electioneering 74

“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!”

 

[Illustration: Wellington.

 

Sir. R. Peel.

 

Goulburn.

 

J. Hume.

 

Dan O’Connell.

 

Peers as Geese.

 

The King on the “Grey.”

 

Lord Eldon.

 

Sir Francis Burdett.

 

JOHN GILPIN. MAY 13, 1831. BY J. DOYLE (HB).

 

[_Page 366._]

 

[Illustration: “THE HANDWRITING ON THE WALL.” MAY 26, 1831.

 

[_Page 367._

 

King (William IV.). _Loq._ “‘Reform _Bill_!’ Can that mean me?”]

 

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:--