A History of Parliamentary Elections and Electioneering 31

A History of Parliamentary Elections and Electioneering 31

CHAPTER V.

 

SATIRES ON THE PARLIAMENTARY ELECTIONS OF 1754.

 

 

A favourite figure with the satirists was to portray wily party

manœuvrers as vermin-catchers, and those apostate representatives

who were ready to sell themselves and their parliamentary trust were

displayed as the spoils of their craft. A cartoon appeared at the

time of these elections reflecting upon the tricks of administration.

It will be seen that nearly all these early caricaturists seem

disinterested, as their subjects oppose the dispensers of patronage.

The engraving shows the Duke of Newcastle seated beside St. Stephen’s

Chapel, and fishing for partisans among the late members, and, in

anticipation, bidding for the adherence of the possible representatives

in the coming parliament; this subject is entitled, “The Complete

Vermin-Catcher of Great Britain; or, the Old Trap new baited.” The

minister’s line is dropped through the chimney of St. Stephen’s, and

is baited with _Titles_, _Bribes_, _Places_, _Pensions_, _Secret

Commissions_, and patronage in _Army_, _Navy_, and _Excise_. The

intriguing duke, who was a proficient in corrupting others, and spent

a large fortune in electioneering wiles, is observing, “All Vermin

may be caught, tho’ differently, suit but the Bait to their various

appetites. But there’s a species will take no Bait; would I could scare

them away; as they’re not Vermin, they will not answer my purpose.”

The greedy place-hunters are swarming plentifully, and are offering to

do any amount of dirty work, to “push for posts,” “Jews and no Jews,”

being indifferent to everything but profit. The Pelhams, unscrupulous

themselves, were past-masters of the art of finding venal tools. It is

disclosed in the diary of Bubb Dodington (Lord Melcombe-Regis), the

manager of the Leicester House intrigues, and himself an accomplished

adept in dissimulation, how disreputably the Duke of Newcastle

contrived to secure Bubb’s parliamentary influence (six seats) “for

nothing!”

 

The corrupt character of a large average of those sent to the Commons

as representatives of the people was in perfect keeping with the no

less greedy boroughmongers who found them seats and the mercenary

voters, their constituents by presumption; what a man bought--and

in those days almost everything political had its price and was

purchasable--he held himself justified in selling when the chance

occurred. A satirical rendering of the imperfections then supposed to

affect the body of the senate appeared at the time of these elections

of 1754, when, by wholesale bribery, the Administration was, at an

enormous cost, doing its utmost to degrade the entire system of

representation:--“Dissection of a Dead Member (of Parliament).” The

subject is extended upon a table for autopsy, five surgeons have

severally examined the different functions, and the results of their

post-mortem inspection is thus stated:--

 

_1st Doctor._ The Brain is very foul and muddy, it has a

Contusion, or, as it may be called, a soft place in it, locked

in the stone kitchen by way of qualification.

 

_2nd Doctor._ Ay, ay, he knocked his head too hard against

politics and bruisified his pericranium. He was bred a

Foxhunter.

 

_3rd Doctor._ The _Vena Cava_ of the _Thorax_ makes a noise,

and sounds as if one should say, “My country be damn’d,” and

his intestines have got, I think, ’tis “Bribery,” wrote on

them--not a drop of good blood in his heart.

 

_4th Doctor._ Bribery, the _Auri Sacra fames_ of the

ancients--ay ’twas a diet he was fond of, ’twas his Breakfast,

Dinner, and Supper, and affected all the corpuscles of his

corporeal system, it was his _Insanible Membrum_.

 

_5th Doctor._ There’s a most potent Fœtor exhales as if the

whole body was corrupted--if the bones are touched it won’t

make an Anatomy.

 

The elections of 1754 are rendered more interesting to later

generations from the circumstance that the famous series of paintings

by Hogarth, better known by the engravings as the “Four Plates of

an Election,” owe their origin to the electoral contests which

ensued on the parliamentary dissolution, April 8, 1754. Before that

date the tendency of events was shadowed forth. For instance, Henry

Pelham, a pupil of Walpole’s, who combined the offices of first lord

of the treasury and chancellor of the exchequer, passed the Jews’

Naturalization Bill in June, 1753, chiefly by his own exertions;

but reaping thereby an enlarged measure of unpopularity--sufficient

to jeopardize his party and his future career, if not to extinguish

the political prospects of the Pelhams beyond rehabilitation--this

detrimental concession was recalled, and, in the face of a general

election and its possible eventualities, the Bill was repealed. The

hostile feeling provoked by the measure in question still remained,

and although the principal agent on its introduction had himself

departed, it exercised, as will be seen in the political satires, much

influence over the elections of 1754, in the way of helping the return

of fresh opposition candidates, and defeating ministerial nominees.

Henry Pelham, the prominent figure of the administration, expired in

the full tide of his unpopularity. That enmity--consequent upon his

acts--followed him to the tomb is illustrated by a spirited caricature,

published on his death, and disclosing the probable reception which

awaited the late premier on the other side of the Styx. “His Arrival at

his Country Retirement and Reception,” March 6, 1754 (the anniversary

of Pelham’s decease). In this etching Henry Pelham is entering on

his future state, introduced to the infernal regions by a demon

chamberlain. The “salle des pas perdus,” is not so easy as anticipated;

Pelham is observing to his conductor:--“It was much easier walking in

the Treasury. I hope my successor finds it so.” The ghosts of departed

statesmen are variously greeting the arrival of the latest addition

to their class. His predecessor, Sir Robert Walpole, is welcoming a

worthy pupil: “O, this is a child of my own bringing up. I found him a

promising Genius for dirty work, I therefore did all I could to gain

him the succession at my retirement hither, knowing that some of his

black strokes would make me appear as fair as alabaster. He has done

it in several respects, but chiefly in getting the Naturalization of

the Jews passed,--have any of you great Genius’s done anything equal?”

The spirit of Judge Jeffreys is declaring, “All my transactions in

the West were but a joke to that great achievement.” The disembodied

Cardinal Wolsey is observing, “Is that the choice spirit you have so

often described? I made pretty large strides towards making the people

swallow down what I thought proper--but this beats all my ‘_Ego et Rex

Meus’s_’ out of doors!” A shade affirms, “We are all puny statesmen to

him;” and the most astute politicians of history are voted beginners

beside Pelham--“If you, old Machiavel, had known him in your days, he’d

a’ lent you a lift.”

 

In the elections which were held in April, 1754, the Court seems

to have experienced less opposition than might have been expected;

for although the spirit of the antagonistic “Leicester House party”

had been damped by the death of the Prince of Wales, which occurred

unexpectedly in March, 1751, it now showed signs of reviving.

 

The contest for the City of London gave rise to several interesting

caricatures. The humours of canvassing are displayed in “The

Liveryman’s Levée” (April, 1754), which represents an elector, a

self-sufficient tailor, with his vulgar wife. The pair are receiving

the obsequious bows of five of the candidates, who, in 1754, put up for

the City of London. The absence of Sir John Barnard, the celebrated

city patriot, is professionally marked by a suit hanging on the

wall,--“A Plain Suit of Broadcloth for Sir John Steady.” The liveryman

is insolently resenting the independence of the favourite candidate:

“Where’s Sir John? I think he is greatly wanting in his duty. Does

he imagine that a man of my figure is to be trifled with? Don’t he

know that we expect to be waited on?” There are other allusions to the

recommendations for and objections against the respective candidates.

 

As the dissolution of parliament approached, satirical views of the

situation became numerous, and there appeared various well-executed

caricatures upon the subject of the city election. In “The City Up

and Down; or, the Candidates Pois’d,” the candidates were represented

perched upon suspended boxes, part of a huge revolving machine. Sir

John Barnard, Slingsby Bethel, and William Beckford are occupying the

upper seats; they had represented the city in the last parliament, and,

as there were no objections against their names, their re-election was

considered secure. In a side box is Sir Richard Glyn, who was defeated;

in another, somewhat lower, is Sir Robert Ladbrooke, a new candidate,

who was successful; below these is a fourth box, in which are Sir Crisp

Gascoyne and Sir William Calvert; the latter, though one of the former

representatives, secured the fewest votes in 1754. The reason for

this falling-off in favour is explained by the caricature; Calvert is

surrounded by Jews, who are assuring him:--“You have all our interest,

for your zealous support of our Bill!”--“Confound your Bill; now I

have no hope left,” replies Sir William, whose exertions on behalf of

this measure lost him his seat. Barnard is declaring, “I am, strictly

speaking, neither a friend to the Jews nor their enemy; excepting when

they aim at having equal Rights and Privileges with my fellow-citizens

and countrymen.” While the inflexible Beckford, who later was Lord

Chatham’s “mouth-piece in the Commons,” asserts, “It becomes a Man of

Character to keep good Company.” Ladbrooke, who was a distiller, is

declaring he “should like to be in good company too,” but “fears it

will be with the two kings”--“The King of the Jews” being Calvert the

brewer, and Gascoyne, “King of the Gipsies.” There are allusions to

the occupations of the candidates; the voters are declaring, “If the

gin-merchant [Ladbrooke] gets in, gin will be cheaper.” Other electors

refer to Gascoyne and Calvert as “two very good beer-makers.” On

the opposite side of the river is shown Sampson Gideon, a prominent

financier of his day, and afterwards knighted,--he is conducted by

Satan, and his hat is filled with gold for purposes of bribery; he is

eager to tamper with the balance of the boxes in the “great Up and Down

machine;”--“If I was over I would turn the poise, though it cost me the

profits of the last Lottery.” Gideon was a strenuous supporter of those

who voted for the Jews’ Naturalization Bill, and, before the repeal of

that measure, held hopes of getting into parliament. He is frequently

alluded to in the electioneering squibs of the time. That he had

substantial reasons for interesting himself in behalf of those in power

appears from the “Report of the Committee appointed to investigate

the Lottery of 1753,” where it is stated that “Sampson Gideon became