A History of Parliamentary Elections and Electioneering 63

A History of Parliamentary Elections and Electioneering 63

“(Have you not read the ‘Rights of Man,’ by Tom Paine?)

Drops of compassion tremble on my eye-lids,

Ready to fall, as soon as you have told your

Pitiful story.

 

 

“KNIFE-GRINDER.

 

“Story! God bless you! I have none to tell, sir,

Only last night, a-drinking at the Chequers,

This poor old hat and breeches, as you see, were

Torn in a scuffle.

 

“Constables came up for to take me into

Custody; they took me before the justice;

Justice Oldmixon put me in the parish

Stocks for a vagrant.

 

“I should be glad to drink your honour’s health in

A pot of beer, if you will give me sixpence;

But, for my part, I never love to meddle

With politics, sir.

 

 

“FRIEND OF HUMANITY.

 

“_I_ give thee sixpence! I will see thee damn’d first!--

Wretch! whom no sense of wrongs can rouse to vengeance!--

Sordid, unfeeling, reprobate, degraded,

Spiritless outcast!”

 

[_Kicks the Knife-grinder, overturns his wheel, and exit in a

transport of republican enthusiasm and universal philanthropy._

 

It was in the session of 1797 that Mr. Grey first moved “for leave

to bring in a bill to reform the representation of the country.” The

motion, seconded by Erskine, was debated until three o’clock in the

morning--an exceptional sitting in those days--when it was rejected

by a Government majority of fifty-eight votes. Although the system of

representation was notoriously corrupt, at least half the seats being

in the patronage of interested persons, it was thirty-four years before

Earl Grey’s measure for reform could be carried, and then only under

extraordinary circumstances. After Grey’s earlier defeat, it was felt

that in a House of Commons completely submissive to the ministerial

dictates, and which resisted amendment, the opposition leaders could

make no impression, and they accordingly announced their intention for

the present of taking no further part in its proceedings; the voice of

Fox was scarcely heard in the House till the century closed.

 

Meanwhile, after the secession of the Whig party from the debates,

the agitation throughout the country increased, political societies

became more active, and frequent meetings were held to discuss the

necessity for parliamentary reform. One of the most remarkable of these

was held under the auspices of Bertie Greathead, the owner of “Guy’s

Cliff,” near Warwick; a medal commemorative of this gathering and

its object, reform, was struck for the occasion. These medals were a

popular method of spreading political opinions. The patriotic reform

medal was parodied by another of a loyal nature, representing the devil

suspending three halters over the heads of the demagogues, who are

mounted in “a condemned cart;” on the one side are shown the applauding

“wrong-heads,” while a large assembly of “right-heads” express their

contempt for the proceedings.

 

[Illustration: Wilkes.

 

Abbé Siéyès.

 

Horne Tooke.

 

C. J. Fox.

 

William Pitt.

 

Lord Holland.

 

Earl of Chatham.

 

TWO PAIR OF PORTRAITS. PRESENTED TO ALL THE UNBIASED ELECTORS OF GREAT

BRITAIN. 1798. BY JAMES GILLRAY.

 

[_Page 305._]

 

[Illustration: LOYAL MEDAL. 1797.

 

A parody of the patriotic medal struck in commemoration of the Reform

meeting held at Greathead’s, Guy’s Cliff, Warwick.]

 

The Tories exulted over the secession of “the party,” and numerous

caricatures appeared, imputing all sorts of offences to the Whigs; and

one version represented Fox as “Phaeton” involving the Whig Club in

his destruction. We have noticed the candidature of Horne Tooke for

Westminster; ever since his prominence upon the occasion of Wilkes’s

return for Middlesex in 1768, the “Brentford Parson” had striven to

obtain a seat in parliament. He was in 1798 one of the most conspicuous

members of the reform associations. Few were his match in ready

eloquence, his pen was ever active, and his writings to the purpose.

At an earlier stage of his career, a pamphlet appeared, written, it

was alleged, by his hand, contrasting the two Pitts with the two Foxes

as a pair of portraits; the comparison being in favour of the former.

Advantage was taken of this circumstance to bring into discredit the

confederation of Horne Tooke (who held more democratic views) with Fox

for the advancement of the reform cause. James Gillray designed for

the _Anti-Jacobin Review_ his own satirical version of “Two Pair of

Portraits, presented to all the unbiased Electors of Great Britain,

by John Horne Tooke,” December 1, 1798. The eminent philologer is

represented as a portrait-painter, seated before his easel, on which

appear the two original likenesses of the Whig and Tory chiefs, Pitt

resting on the pedestal of “Truth,” and Fox on that of “Deceit.” The

presentment of Lord Holland with the plunder of “unaccounted millions”

so frequently quoted, is placed beside the portrait of the patriotic

Earl of Chatham, dowered with the “Rewards of a Grateful Nation.”

Horne Tooke, who has in his pocket, “Sketches of Patriotic Views, a

pension, a mouth-stopper, a place,” is presumed to be retouching his

unflattering and sinister portrait of the Whig chief, while demanding

of the electors of Great Britain, which two of them will you

choose to hang in your Cabinets, the PITTS or the FOXES? “Where,

on your conscience, should the other two be hanged?” Allusions

to various periods of the limner’s life and principles appear round the

studio--the windmill at Wimbledon (where Tooke resided), the parsonage

at Brentford, the bust of Machiavel, the shadow or “silhouette” of the

Abbé Siéyès; the picture of his old friend Wilkes, in his aldermanic

gown as the prosperous and handsomely remunerated city chamberlain,

_ci-devant_ Wilkes and Liberty; “The effect in this picture to be

copied as exact as possible;” “A London Corresponding Society, _i.e._ a

Sketch for an English Directory;” with a folio of “Studies from French

masters, Robespierre, Tallien, Marat,” together with the prospectus for

a new work, “The Art of Political Painting, extracted from the works of

the most celebrated Jacobin professors.”

 

The Shakespeare Tavern, celebrated as the head-quarters of the Whig

party during Fox’s candidature for Westminster, was the scene of a

popular ovation on the twentieth anniversary of the Whig chief’s

election for that important constituency; the event was celebrated by

a public dinner, October 10, 1800. Fox had so long absented himself

from Parliament, feeling, as he declared, “his time of action was over

when those principles were extinguished on which he acted,” that his

reappearance excited the greatest enthusiasm amongst his partisans,

who were anxious both to hear his sentiments on the political outlook,

and to demonstrate their unabated attachment to the “Man of the

People,” who preferred to seclude himself from public business and

from the platform of his most brilliant oratorical triumphs, that he

“might steadily adhere to those principles which had guided his past

conduct.” Every room in the house was filled with company. In replying

to the cordial reception of his health, Fox reminded his auditors that

“During the twenty years I have represented you in Parliament I have

adhered to the principles on which the Revolution of 1688 was founded,

and what have been known as the old Whig principles of England;” and

recalled that his first connection with his constituents occurred

“during the calamitous war with America;” he then alluded to his

absence from Parliament, extended to three years, and thus eloquently

concluded: “I shall ever maintain that the basis of all parties is

justice--that the basis of all constitutions is the sovereignty of

the people--that from the people alone kings, parliaments, judges,

and magistrates derive their authority.” Gillray has embodied this

situation in his pictorial version of this most enthusiastic reception,

ungenerously representing Fox as “The Worn-out Patriot; or, the Last

Dying Speech of the Westminster Representative,” October 10, 1800.

The great statesman is depicted as both mentally and physically in a

state of decadence; Erskine is sustaining him with a bottle of brandy

to stimulate his strength artificially, while Harvey Combe, in his

robes as Lord Mayor, is lending his substantial support; a measure of

Whitbread’s “entire” is also ready for the emergency. Among the guests

are figured Sir J. Sinclair, and the gifted member for Southwark,

Tierney. The speech the satirist has sarcastically introduced is a

parody on that delivered by the Whig chief to the electors on the

occasion:--

 

“Gentlemen, you see I am grown quite an old man in your

service. Twenty years I’ve served you, and always upon the

same principles. I rejoiced at the success of our enemies in

the American War, and the war against the virtuous French

has always met with my most determined opposition; but the

infamous Ministry will not make peace with our enemies, and are

determined to keep me out of their councils and out of place.

Therefore, gentlemen, as their principles are quite different

from mine, and as I am now too old to form myself according

to their systems, my attendance in Parliament is useless, and,

to say the truth, I feel that my season of action is past, and

I must leave to younger men to act, for, alas! my failings and

weaknesses will not let me now recognize what is for the best.”

 

[Illustration:

 

THE WORN-OUT PATRIOT, OR THE LAST DYING SPEECH OF THE WESTMINSTER