A History of Parliamentary Elections and Electioneering 71
That the interests of the Wellington Cabinet were in jeopardy is
pictorially conveyed. “The Unsuccessful Appeal” (September 25, 1830)
shows John Bull arm-in-arm with the king, while Wellington is pointing
to a distant movement amongst the crowd, and asking Mr. Bull’s
protection against his political foes. “My good old friend, I want
your assistance against these fellows, who are about to unite for the
purpose of overpowering me by numbers.” The inimical confederates are
Brougham and Lords Holland, Durham, Grey, etc., on the one side, who
are fraternizing with Lord Eldon, the Duke of Cumberland, and others,
on the other. Johnny is thus responding to the old campaigner’s
appeal:--
“I should be sorry to see you defeated by such an unholy
alliance after all the battles we have fought and won together;
but the fact is, I feel so oppressed with the glory of so many
victories, that I must beg to be excused from interfering any
more for the present in the disputes of others. There are,
however, plenty of clever fellows to be had, who are able and
willing enough to assist you, but when you again meet with
such, let me advise you not to be too ready to quarrel with
them!”
William IV. is quite at one with his friend, the last
speaker--“Whatever you say, John, I will agree to; for _your_ will is
_my_ pleasure.”
Before the new parliament assembled, the Cabinet received some
damaging assaults from the press. The nature of this concealed warfare
is explained by HB in his sketch of “A Masked Battery” (October 4,
1830). The assailant is Henry Brougham: in his legal guise, entrenched
behind the “Result of the General Election,” with the _Edinburgh
Review_ for a screen, he is bespattering his opponents, the beleaguered
“Ins,” with ink. The Tory Cabinet is suffering severely: Wellington
is to the front, trying to ward off the shower from Brougham’s
inkstand-battery; in his hand is a damaging attack on paper,--“The
Duke of Wellington and the Whigs.” Sir Robert Peel is endeavouring
to shelter himself behind his chief. Lords Bathurst, Ellenborough,
Lyndhurst, and Aberdeen are all suffering from the assault.
When the House met, we get a prospect of the prime minister reviewing
his forces--“A Cabinet Picture” (November 5, 1830). Wellington, with
his colleagues, Lords Aberdeen, Lyndhurst, Bathurst, Rosslyn, Melville,
and others, whom the chief is thus addressing:--
“Having been obliged to recognize the King of the French,
we must, as a set-off--acknowledge our friend Miguel. The
Belgians--poor people!--not knowing how to take care of
themselves, must be protected from the evils of independence!
So much for foreign affairs, now for domestic. I say that
our present system is the very perfection of systems, and
consequently admits of no improvement; I will go further,
and say that, while I have power, no species of reform shall
take place! and now--having said it--if Peel will but manage
the new Police, Hardinge Ireland, Goulburn [Chancellor of the
Exchequer] abstain from projects of finance, and Ellenborough
hold his tongue, we may manage to keep our seats for another
session.”
After the elections it was evident that things out-of-doors were moving
antagonistically to the interests of the Wellington Cabinet, but the
“Old Campaigner” still hoped by stratagem to keep in power, although
resolute in asserting that while he kept office no species of reform
should take place. The premier’s optimist confidence “that his ministry
might keep their places for another session” is shown to be misplaced,
for the defeat of his ministry was clearly foreshadowed: “Guy Fawkes,
or the Anniversary of the Popish Plot” (November 9, 1830), shows that
destruction was abroad; and this cartoon is a late exemplification of
the old British institution of burning in effigy a minister when out
of favour. The political Guy is, of course, Wellington, the hero of
a hundred fights, reproduced in straw, tied to a rickety chair, and
is gaily borne to the bonfire by a rejoicing mob of statesmen, his
political antagonists. Lord Lansdowne leads the way, with a blazing
torch to fire the fatal pyre; the bearers are the Duke of Cumberland
and Prince George (Duke of Cambridge), Lords Holland, Sidmouth, Eldon,
etc.; Aberdeen, Stanhope, and the Duke of Newcastle bring up the rear
in a high state of exaltation;--these were the peers who “sapped the
Tory defences.”
Wellington was evidently losing popularity, and the lustre he gained
in the field was being clouded in the Cabinet; John Bull has to come
to his rescue against the rabble, and the valiant captain is once more
shown sheltered under the king’s mantle. It appears the lord mayor’s
banquet was threatened with a hostile demonstration, and the city
magistrate, “Don Key,” was thrown into a deadly state of apprehension
by the alleged prospect of being received with “cold indifference.”
This cartoon is entitled “The False Alarm; or, Much Ado about Nothing.”
The Wellington tenure of power was doomed, and, like Cæsar’s, his fatal
stab was to come from the hand of a colleague, on the inopportune
revival of the Eastern Question. “Scene from the suppressed Tragedy,
entitled the Turco-Greek Conspiracy,” shows the minister (wearing
his well-earned laurels) done to death by the Peers at the foot of
Canning’s statue in the forum; the Senators being armed with deadly
speeches wherewith to accomplish this tragic immolation. “Et tu Brute”
are the hero’s closing words addressed to his past comrade, Lord
Londonderry, who is giving the _coup de grâce_.
W. Heath, who was employed by McLean at the time Doyle’s sketches were
making their appearance, has given many versions of events during
George IV.’s somewhat oppressive reign. At the close of 1830, with
the advent to the throne of a more constitutionally-minded sovereign,
the artist sums up the dismissal of a Cabinet whose actions he had
frequently criticized from a pictorially satirical point of view. In
the version of “His Honour the Beadle Driving the Wagabonds Out of the
Parish,” November 28, 1830, Heath has impressed Sir David Wilkie’s
well-known picture of “The Parish Beadle” into the service of parody.
King William IV., as the Bumble of the situation, is making a clean
sweep of the relics of the past reign: “Come, be off: no hangers
behind--out with you all! I’ll let you see I represent the aristocracy
of the parish!” John Bull, who may be considered to have generally
endorsed his friend William’s policy with hearty goodwill, is giving
his approval: “That’s right, Master Beadle, do your duty and clear the
parish of the varments; they’ve been a pest ever since they’ve been
here.” The chancellor Lyndhurst, Lord Ellenborough, Goulburn (late
chancellor of the exchequer), and the rest, are making a hasty retreat.
Peel, dragging his “new police” monkey attached to a string, is hardly
reconciled to his banishment from office: “Vell, ve did all ve could to
kick up a row afore ve vent!” Wellington, as the “hurdy-gurdy” woman,
dressed in the faded splendours of an old soldier’s coat, is making all
the noise of which the instrument is capable while retreating with his
face to the foe.
The results of the general election of 1830 culminated within a month
of the reassembling of parliament in the substitution of a Whig for a
Tory ministry, and William IV.’s tenure of the throne was inaugurated
by the early adoption of that liberal progress which developed into
the larger measure of reform within two years, the most memorable act
of his reign. Doyle shows the ensuing distribution of offices, and
sketches one of the intrigues for place--Henry Brougham, as “The
Coquet,” being tempted by Lord Grey to a political allegiance, and
courted on the woolsack with the bait of the chancellor’s wig. After
the preliminary skirmishing and cementing of necessary alliances,
the end was short, sharp, and decisive, and is embodied by HB with
his customary point and felicity, as “Examples of the Laconic Style”
(November 26, 1830). The king is “standing at attention;” he has
sent for Lord Grey. “Your conditions?” The coming premier answers,
“Retrenchment, Reform, and Peace.” “Done!” says the king, holding
out his hand on the bargain. The Duke of Wellington, on the left,
is stepping off the scene, while John Bull, to the right, is not
reluctantly giving his late commander the order, “Right about face,
march!”
[Illustration: Lord Chancellor Lyndhurst.
Scarlett.
Lord Ellenborough.
Goulburn, Chancellor of Exchequer.
Duke of Wellington.
Sir Robert Peel.
William IV.
John Bull.
HIS HONOUR THE BEADLE (WILLIAM IV.) DRIVING THE WAGABONDS OUT OF THE
PARISH. NOV. 28, 1830. By W. HEATH.
[_Page 354._]
With the advent of the powerful Whig party came such sweeping reforms
that minds accustomed to the old order of things began to take fright.
It seemed that national institutions, and those fabled landmarks, “The
bulwarks of the constitution,” bid fair to be swept away within six
months, and another appeal to the constituencies was imminent. The
Tory views of the new order of things were embodied by Doyle (April 4,
1831) in “A Very Prophetical and Pathetical Allegory,” in which it was
foreshadowed that the institutions of the country could not survive
reform, but must succumb within ten years. This vision conjures up a
deserted cemetery, wherein, in woeful anticipation, is erected the tomb
of departed greatness: “Here lyeth the British Constitution, which,
after a rapid decline of ten years, departed this world, 1841.--I was
well; wishing to be better, here I am. _Sic transit gloria mundi._” The
Duke of Wellington, as a widowed and ancient crony in deep sables, is
shedding a tear, and depositing a wreath on the family vault, which is
presumed to contain such honoured dust.
The gloomy forebodings of the Tories are further illustrated with much
spirit in the guise of an expected game of “Leap-Frog down Constitution
Hill,” April 13, 1831, in which the Whigs are flying over the heads of
the opposition. On Constitution Hill stand Burdett, O’Connell, Hunt,
댓글 없음:
댓글 쓰기