Wilkes having made the most of his patriotism, after being elected lord mayor, and subsequently obtaining the lucrative and permanent office of city chamberlain, now exhibited himself in his true colours—a remarkable instance of tergiversation, disclaiming his own acts, and making no scruple of expressing his contempt for the opinions of his former supporters. On his return for Middlesex in 1784, as one of “the king’s friends,” the democrats represented the king and Wilkes hanged on one tree, with the inscription, “Give justice her claims.” The reconciliation of the “two kings of Brentford” was by no means popular, and the wits were severe on the fresh departure. One of these caricatures, May 1, 1784, is entitled, “The New Coalition.” It represents the King and the ex-archdemagogue fraternally embracing; Wilkes’s cap of liberty is cast to the ground; he declares to his Sovereign, “I now find you are the best of princes.” While great George discovers the erst agitator, his late aversion, “Sure! the worthiest of subjects and most virtuous of men!”

Charles James Fox, the most popular Whig statesman of history, was returned for Midhurst in May, 1769. He was then only nineteen years and four months old; notwithstanding this, he took his seat the November following, thus becoming a member of parliament before he reached the age of twenty. Curiously enough, his first speech, March, 9, 1770, was on a point of order, arising out of the Wilkes case and the disputes of the Middlesex election. In spite of his affected patriotism, Wilkes made a jest of his insincerity: standing on the hustings at Brentford, his opponent said to him, “I will take the sense of the meeting;” to which the pseudo “champion of liberty” responded, “And I will take the nonsense, and we shall see who has the best of it.” In the same way he coolly disavowed his friend and advocate Serjeant Glynn, his colleague for Middlesex, who had fought all his battles through the courts to the hustings, and vice versâ. Some years later, as related by Earl Russell, when the “two kings of Brentford” were excellent friends, and Wilkes, by the irony of fate, became a ministerial candidate, he was received at a levée, when George III., with his habitual practice of asking awkward questions, inquired after Wilkes’s friend, Glynn. “Sire,” said Wilkes, “he is not a friend of mine; he was a Wilkite, which I never was.”

One of the most animated pictures which can be found of the humours of canvassing is that drawn from life by William Cowper, at the time the poet’s mind was influenced to cheerfulness by the company of the lively Lady Austen, who, with the more gravely solicitous Mrs. Unwin, made Olney an halcyon abode. The year the “Task” was published, and while Cowper was touching up his spirited ballad of “John Gilpin,” he has set down the visit of an aspiring young senator, no less than Pitt’s cousin, Mr. W. W. Grenville, who, with a retinue of zealous supporters at his tail, quite “without your leave,” bursts upon the poet’s retirement in pursuit of suffrages; this was at the general election of 1784:—

“As, when the sea is uncommonly agitated, the water finds its way into creeks and holes of rocks, which, in its calmer state, it never reaches; in like manner, the effect of these turbulent times is felt even at Orchard Side, where in general we live as undisturbed by the political element as shrimps or cockles that have been accidentally deposited in some hollow beyond the water-mark by the usual dashing of the waves. We were sitting yesterday after dinner, the two ladies and myself, very composedly, and without the least apprehension of any such intrusion, in our snug parlour; one lady knitting, the other netting, and the gentleman winding worsted, when, to our unspeakable surprise, a mob appeared before the window, a smart rap was heard at the door, the boys halloed, and the maid announced Mr. Grenville. ‘Puss’ [Cowper’s tame hare] was unfortunately let out of her box, so that the candidate, with all his good friends at his heels, was refused admission at the grand entry, and referred to the back door as the only possible way of approach. Candidates are not creatures to be very susceptible of affronts, and would rather, I suppose, climb in at the window than be absolutely excluded. In a minute, the yard, the kitchen, and the parlour were filled. Mr. Grenville, advancing towards me, shook me by the hand with a degree of cordiality that was extremely seducing. As soon as he, and as many more as could find chairs, were seated, he began to open the intent of his visit. I told him I had no vote, for which he readily gave me credit. I assured him I had no influence, which he was not equally inclined to believe, and the less, no doubt, because Mr. Ashburner, the draper, addressing himself to me at this moment, informed me that I had a great deal. Supposing that I could not be possessed of such a treasure without knowing it, I ventured my first assertion by saying that, if I had any, I was utterly at a loss to imagine where it could be, or wherein it consisted. Thus ended the conference. Mr. Grenville squeezed me by the hand again, kissed the ladies and withdrew. He kissed likewise the maid in the kitchen, and seemed, upon the whole, a most loving, kissing, kind-hearted gentleman. He is very young, genteel, and handsome. He has a pair of very good eyes in his head, which not being sufficient, as it should seem, for the many nice and difficult purposes of a senator, he has a third also, which he wore suspended by a riband from his button-hole. The boys hallooed, the dogs barked, ‘Puss’ scampered, the hero with his long train of obsequious followers withdrew. We made ourselves very merry with the adventure, and, in a short time, settled into our former tranquillity, never probably to be thus interrupted more.”

It may be added that this persuasive young politician, W. W. Grenville, succeeded in securing his return at the top of the poll for the county of Buckinghamshire in 1784, as Pitt wrote to James Grenville (Lord Glastonbury)—“William was safe.”

CHAPTER X.
THE GREAT WESTMINSTER ELECTION OF 1784.

The excitement caused by Wilkes’s election for Middlesex in 1768 was forgotten in the great Westminster contest of 1784. Although on each occasion the conflicts were in opposition to those ministerial interests which enlisted the Crown, the courtiers, and the following of placemen, state pensioners, with both branches of the service upon the Tory side in antagonism to popular rights and the freedom of election, in both instances of overstrained influence the Government had to submit to the mortification of defeat. The circumstances preceding the Westminster election were exceptional. The Fox and North Coalition Administration had, by an overstrained exercise of the royal prerogative, through a “back-stair” Court intrigue, and by defiantly unconstitutional means on the part of the king, lost their hold on power, temporarily—as they then supposed—but, as subsequent events proved, beyond recall.

Fox had introduced his vast measure of reform for the reconstitution of our Eastern Empire. Passed by the majority commanded by the Coalition Ministry in the Commons, the Bill was—in direct deference to the king’s written instructions, freely heralded about—thrown out on the second reading in the Lords. Fox was feared by the king and the East India Company alike; it was apprehended that the great “Carlo Khan” was but beginning the work of revolution, and that all charters would be in equal jeopardy if that of the East India House was allowed to be revised. The wealth of the company was put into requisition to hurl from power the ministers who dared to legislate for the administration of the huge empire confided to their government; and the king chiefly aimed at the dismissal of the great Whig chief, against whom an unreasonable prejudice long continued to exist in the royal mind. On Fox’s defeat it was left to Lord Temple to constitute an administration which should satisfy the king; but although this juncture brought William Pitt to the front, it was found impossible to carry on the business of the country, the ministry, too weak to divide, being beaten on every measure introduced by their rivals; finally, the opposition majority carried the following damaging resolution by nineteen votes:—

“That it is the opinion of this House that the continuance of the present ministry in power is an obstacle to the formation of such an administration as is likely to have the confidence of this House and the people.”

An address to the king in the same spirit was passed, and similar motions and addresses were repeated until parliament was prorogued with a discontented speech from the throne, and it was dissolved on the day following, March 25, 1874; thus ending for the time this threatening contest between the Crown and the most important part of the legislature, and transferring the arena of conflict to the hustings. By the royal will, Pitt, though only in his twenty-fifth year, was established as Prime Minister of England, uniting in himself the offices of first lord of the treasury and chancellor of the exchequer; his colleagues being those already known as “the king’s friends,” or youthful aspirants to power willing to tread in their steps. At the elections, the opposition laboured under the disadvantage of leaving the patronage of administration in the hands of their antagonists, and though the contests were obstinate, the Court influence and the king’s name, which was used openly in defiance of the privileges of parliament, secured a majority of seats at once, confirming the apprehensions of the Whig party, and fixing Pitt in security at the pinnacle of power. Horace Walpole has pictured the feelings of the day:—

“The Court struck a blow at the Ministers, but it was the gold of the East India Company, that nest of monsters (which Fox’s Bill was to demolish), that really conjured up the storm, and has diffused it all over England. On the other hand Mr. Pitt has braved the majority of the House of Commons, has dissolved the existent one, and, I doubt, given a wound to that branch of the legislature, which, if the tide does not turn, may be very fatal to the constitution. The nation is intoxicated, and has poured in addresses of thanks to the Crown for exerting the prerogative against the palladium of the people. The first consequence will probably be, that the Court will have a considerable majority upon the new Elections.”

The aversion to the late Coalition Ministry was turned to account by the Court; the elections showed the opposition, so strong before the dissolution, in a woeful minority; the great Whig families, Horace Walpole wrote—

“have lost all credit in their own counties; nay, have been tricked out of seats where the whole property was their own; and, in some of those cases, a Royal finger has too evidently tampered, as well as singularly and revengefully towards Lord North and Lord Hertford.... Such a proscription, however, must have sown so deep resentment as it was not wise to provoke, considering that permanent fortune is a jewel that in no Crown is the most to be depended upon.”

The Westminster election of 1784 was an event of importance in the political history of the last century; it was the only serious check that the Court encountered in the attempt to return a subservient House of Commons; and circumstances combined to render it the most remarkable struggle of the kind that has been witnessed. The metropolis was kept in a state of ebullition for weeks; the poll was opened on April 1st, and continued without intermission until May 17th. During this time, Covent Garden and the Strand were the scenes of daily combats between the rival mobs; the papers were filled with squibs of the most personal nature, according to their respective sides in politics, and hundreds of pictorial satires appeared on every incident, and embodying all the successive stages of the struggle. Rowlandson, who entered with spirit into the contest, chiefly in the Foxite interests, alone produced on an average a fresh caricature every day; the best of these are reproduced in the life of the caricaturist, and a selection of these subjects, from the work in question, are given among the present illustrations of the subject. The representatives of Westminster in the previous parliament were Fox and Sir Brydges Rodney. Sir Cecil Wray, lately a follower of the Whig party, had been nominated for the last parliament by the Whig chief, but on this occasion Wray ungratefully deserted his political leader, and was put forward as the ministerial nominee. The king and Court had resolved to exert every influence to cause Fox’s defeat on personal grounds. Admiral Lord Hood was also a Court candidate, but it was Wray who was more especially held forth as the antagonist of the “Man of the People.” The political apostate was stigmatized as “Judas Iscariot, who betrayed his master.” Other charges against him were certain proposals he is said to have made for the suppression of Chelsea Hospital and a project for a tax upon maid-servants; to these were added the general cries against his supporters of attempting an undue elevation of the prerogative, and also against the prevalent “back-stair” influence.

Against Fox was raised the odium of the coalition with Lord North, and his attack on the East India Company’s charter was represented as but the commencement of a general invasion of chartered rights of corporate bodies. The Prince of Wales interested himself warmly in favour of Fox, to the extreme provocation of the king and queen; it was declared that the prince had canvassed in person, and that the members of his household were actively engaged in promoting the success of the Whig chief. The exertions of the Court were extraordinary; almost hourly intelligence was conveyed to the king, who is said to have been affected in the most evident manner by every change in the state of the poll. Threats and promises were freely made in the royal name, the old illegalities were revived, members of the king’s household claimed votes, and on one occasion two hundred and eighty of the Guards were sent in a body to give their votes as householders—an ill-advised manœuvre, upon which, as Horace Walpole declared, his father, Sir Robert, would not have dared to venture in the most quiet seasons. All dependents on the Court were commanded to vote on the same side as the soldiers. When Fox’s friends, the popular party, protested against this unconstitutional interference, their opponents retaliated by charging the Foxites with bribery, and with resorting to improper influences of extravagant kinds. Beyond the unpopularity of relying upon Court patronage and the imputations of “wearing two faces under a Hood,” and being “a Greenwich pensioner,” Admiral Lord Hood escaped; the most bitter party and personal attacks were made upon Wray. At the beginning of the election, Hood had brought up a large contingent of sailors, or, as the opposition alleged, chiefly hired ruffians dressed in sailors’ clothes; these desperadoes surrounded the hustings, and intimidated Fox’s friends, and even hindered those who attempted to register votes in favour of the Whig chief; they grew uproarious as the poll progressed, and, parading the streets, assaulted Fox’s partisans, made conspicuous by displaying his “true blue” favours; they also attacked the Shakespeare Tavern, where his committee met, when, threatening to wreck the house, they were beaten off by the inmates. After a reign of terror, which was endured for four days without organized resistance, the sailor mob encountered a rival faction—entitled the “honest mob” by the opposition newspapers,—these were the hackney chairmen, a numerous body, chiefly Irishmen, almost unanimous in their support of Fox; these, with hearty will, basted the sailors, breaking heads and fracturing bones in the neighbourhood of Covent Garden. The sailors thence proceeded to St. James’s, where the chairmen chiefly plied for hire, to wreak vengeance on their chairs; but the Irishmen beat them again and the Guards quelled the riot. The day following, both parties were reinforced. The sailors, vowing vengeance, left the hustings to intercept Fox on his way to Westminster to canvass; but he luckily managed to elude them, and escaped into a private house. The sailor mob returned to Covent Garden, where they encountered the “honest mob,” the chairmen being joined by a multitude of butchers, brewers’ men, and others. A series of pitched battles ensued, the sailors were defeated at each renewal of the fighting, and, finally, many of their number being carried off to hospitals severely injured, the popular rival mob was left in possession of the field. Special constables were now introduced at the instance of the justices of the peace, who were in the Court interest, to surround the places where Hood and Wray’s committees met, and these behaved in a manner so hostile to Fox’s party, going about impeding and insulting Liberal voters, and shouting “No Fox,” that their presence provoked a fresh outbreak. On the approach of the “honest mob,” heralded by the sounds of the marrow-bones and cleavers, the insurrectionary signal, the constables made an attack, in which one of their own body was knocked down and killed by fellow-constables by mistake in the heat of the scuffle.

In Rowlandson’s pictorial versions of the different stages of this famous election, the public were first excited against the Coalition Ministry, lately thrown out of office as described. “They Quarter their Arms” represents the contracting parties, Fox and Badger, united to share the Treasury spoils, and battening on the victimized John Bull; it was “money” which made the Coalition Wedding:—

The downfall of the Coalition was pictured as “Britannia Aroused; or, the Coalition Ministers Destroyed,” in which Fox and North are figuratively reaping the reward of iniquity.

The astute young premier, whose youth at this time was alleged as his chief crime, began to bid for “loyal addresses,” and other servile expressions, to condone the rash experiments recently attempted upon the constitution. With this view he cultivated the citizens, and, being presented with the “Freedom of the City,” he was entertained by the Grocers’ Company as the son of that famous Earl of Chatham, the greatest friend of the rights of the people; it was expected he would be equally steadfast in defending popular freedom:—

In “Master Billy’s Procession to Grocers’ Hall” the adulation of the multitude is offered to the “charming youth,” who is declared to be “very like his father;” the gold box is carried before, and the voluntary slaves who are harnessed to his chariot are shouting for “Pitt and Prerogative.”

Before the dissolution (March 25th), Pitt’s ministerial manœuvres were already patent to all. The king had determined, with the obstinacy of purpose which characterized the royal mind, that he would endure any sacrifice rather than sanction the return of the members of the late Coalition Ministry to power; in the face of this eventuality, he even threatened, it is stated, to retire to Hanover, but, in the meanwhile, no effort was spared to obviate this embarrassing emergency. Places and pensions were freely employed as baits to detach followers of Fox and North. A pictorial version of the situation, as given by Rowlandson, represents the extensive “ratting” system and its modus operandi, under the title of “The Apostate Jack Robinson, the Political Rat-catcher. N.B. Rats taken alive!”

Jack Robinson, as “Rat-catcher to Great Britain,” is equipped for his delicate task with a supply of baits, lures, and traps; round his waist is the “Cestus of Corruption,” in his pocket is a small aide-de-camp, who is made to exclaim, “We’ll ferret them out!” On his back is a double trap, baited with coronets and places; he is cautiously proceeding on all fours, along the Treasury floor, where “vermin” are “preserved;” the rats to be captured are toying with the gold laid down to attract them. To the nose of one veteran, whose face resembles the spectacled visage of Edmund Burke, is held a large bait of “pension,” which is regarded wistfully by other rats assembled. Under the heading of “Rats of Note,” a placard on the wall announces the list of political apostates who have been captured. No concealment was attempted, for we find in the pages of the Morning Post and Daily Advertiser, for February 10, 1784, an advertisement, under the simple heading of “Jack Robinson,” with a woodcut representing a string of rats, such as might preface a common rat-catcher’s announcement, giving the names of twenty-two parliamentary rats already decoyed from their party allegiance to go over to the good pickings the king was able to hold out. This curious notification is repeated on the Treasury wall, shown in Rowlandson’s pictorial view of the corruption abroad, as a preparation for the coming elections.

The dramatis personæ of the great performance at the Covent Garden hustings are exhibited as “The Rival Candidates:” “Themistocles,” Lord Hood; “Demosthenes,” Fox; “Judas Iscariot,” Sir Cecil Wray.

One of the most enthusiastic partisans of Fox, and second only to his fair friends, the ladies of the Whig aristocracy, in popular influence, was “Honest Sam House,” the publican, remarkable for his oddity and for his political zeal, who during the election not only canvassed with admirable tact, but throughout the contest kept open house at his own expense, and was honoured with the presence of many of the Whig aristocracy.

The fact that the public was being treated to the excitement of perhaps the most momentous and embittered, if not the hardest-fought election on record, is shown in Rowlandson’s version of the Covent Garden Hustings, round which is assembled a crowd of persons who are being addressed from the platform, whereon stands one of the ministerial candidates, Admiral Lord Hood, who is made to announce his intention of carrying “two faces under a Hood!” This caricature is a pointed comment upon the Court manœuvres, and exposes those royal tactics which had already demoralized the allies of the defunct Coalition Ministry. Major John Cartwright—the consistent and energetic advocate of reform, of which he was one of the most valorous pioneers—is made the mouth-piece of the artist’s satirical strictures, while endorsing those views held by “The Drum-Major of Sedition” (March 29, 1784), as the liberty-loving major, who remained conspicuous in the foremost ranks of reformers all his days, was entitled by his adversaries. A strongly ironical tendency characterizes the speech, which may be regarded as a tolerably pungent electioneering squib:—

“All gentlemen and other electors for Westminster who are ready and willing to surrender their rights and those of their fellow-citizens to secret influence and the Lords of the Bedchamber, let them repair to the prerogative standard, lately erected at the Cannon Coffee House, where they shall be kindly received—until their services are no longer wanted. This, gentlemen, is the last time of asking, as we are determined to abolish the power of the House of Commons, and in future be governed by Prerogative, as they are in France and Turkey. Gentlemen, the ambition of the enemy is now evident. Has he not, within these few days past, stole the Great Seal of England” (this had actually occurred, the great seal being mysteriously carried off on the eve of the dissolution, which had to be postponed until another seal could be made to replace the missing instrument) “while the Chancellor62 was taking a bottle with a female favourite, as all great men do? I am informed, gentlemen, that the enemy now assumes Regal Authority, and, by virtue of the Great Seal (which he stole), is creating of Peers and granting of pensions. A most shameful abuse, gentlemen, of that instrument. If you assist us to pull down the House of Commons, every person who hears me has a chance of becoming a great man, if he is happy enough to hit the fancy of Lord Bute and of Mr. Jenkinson.63 Huzza! God save the King!”

Pitt’s valour, then deemed intemperate, in taking up the reins of office by “the royal will,” and thereby jockeying the discomfited ex-Coalition Ministry, is commented upon by Rowlandson in the course of his numerous caricatures on the great Westminster election. “The Hanoverian Horse and the British Lion; a scene in a new play, lately acted at Westminster with distinguished applause. Act ii., scene last” (March 31, 1784), is a version intended to be prophetic of the end, a view then warranted by circumstances, but one falsified by the results of the general election, which consolidated the power in Pitt’s hands, and completely left the opposition “out in the cold!” a surprise by no means anticipated at the date of the cartoon in question. The Parliament-house is shown as the arena of this constitutional tournament, and the faithful Commons are victimized by the aggressive tendencies of Pitt’s steed; the White Horse of Hanover is trampling upon “Magna Charta,” the “Bill of Rights,” and mangling the “Constitution.” Pitt, a remarkably light and boyish jockey, is exciting the brute, who is neighing, “Pre-ro-ro-ro-ro-rogative” with vicious energy. The youthful premier is enjoying the capers of his mount: “Bravo! go it again; I love to ride a mettle steed. Send the vagabonds packing.” The heels of the White Horse are effectually scaring the members and making a clearance. The British Lion has descended from his familiar post as a supporter of the royal ’scutcheon over the Speaker’s chair; in the vacant space lately occupied by the British Lion is the announcement, “We shall resume our situation here at pleasure.—Leo Rex.” The sturdy figure of the Whig Chief is safely mounted upon the British Lion, who is keeping a watchful eye upon his Hanoverian rival, while protesting, “If this horse is not tamed, he will soon be absolute king of our forest.” Fox has entered on the scene of conflict, armed for the encounter with bit, bridle, and a stout riding-whip, to tame and control the uproarious White Horse; he is volunteering advice to his upstart rival, “Prithee, Billy, dismount before ye get a fall—and let some abler jockey take your seat!” Fox was reckoning without his “Martyrs,” which the results of the election were destined to create on an unprecedented scale, as this review will show. The reverse was shortly to be realized, as set down pictorially by Rowlandson. The poll was opened April 1, and three days later appeared a version of Fox as “The Incurable,” in a strait-waistcoat, and with straw in his hair, singing:—

The royal physician, Dr. Munro, is examining the patient through his eye-glass, and attesting, “As I have not the least hope of his recovery, let him be removed amongst the Incurables.”

The most active and successful of Fox’s canvassers was undoubtedly the Duchess of Devonshire, who, by the influence of her personal charms and her winning affability, succeeded in procuring for the Whig chief votes which would never have otherwise been polled in his favour. It was of the beautiful and winsome Georgiana Spencer, that Hannay said the Spencers had laid the world under further obligations by sending forth a second “Fairy Queen,” and it was the Westminster Election of 1784 which first brought into celebrity this gay and graceful leader of fashion, who, by universal suffrage, was the Queen of the Foxites. In the earlier stages Fox was behind both his opponents, and although Cecil Wray had only a small majority, Fox was at his last gasp. The story is told in Wraxall’s “Posthumous Memoirs” by an eye-witness of the incidents:—

“The party were driven to new resources, and the Duchess of Devonshire restored the fates of the Whig champion. The progress of the canvass thenceforward is amusing. The entire of the voters for Westminster having been exhausted, the only hope was in exciting the suburbs. The Duchess instantly ordered out her equipage, and with her sister, the Countess of Duncannon, drove, polling list in hand, to the houses of the voters. Entreaties, ridicule, civilities, influence of all kinds were lavished on these rough legislators; and the novelty of being solicited by two women of rank and remarkable fashion, took the popular taste universally. The immediate result was, that they gallantly came to the poll, and Fox, who had been a hundred behind Sir Cecil, speedily left him a hundred behind in return. An imperfect attempt was made on the hostile side to oppose this new species of warfare by similar captivation, and Lady Salisbury was moved to awake the dying fortunes of the Government candidate. But the effort failed; it was imitation, it was too late; and the Duchess was six-and-twenty, and Lady Salisbury thirty-four! These are reasons enough, and more than enough for the rejection of any man from the hustings.”

The Tories were furious at the success of the duchess, who, attended by several beauties of the Whig aristocracy, and, among others, by the fascinating Lady Carlisle, carried all before her; another rival canvasser, in addition to the “Diana of Hatfield,” was set up in the person of the Hon. Mrs. Hobart, Lady Buckinghamshire, of “Pic-nic” fame, who, though “fat and fair,” was under “forty,” and remarkably volatile, but, being of portly figure, this dashing lady, a connection of Pitt’s, was by the opposition nicknamed “Madame Blubber,” and the caricaturists, who represent her as canvassing for Hood and Wray, with a weighty purse by way of inducement, make the electors on whom she has tried her persuasive powers unanimous in asserting “I’m engaged to the Duchess.” Mrs. Hobart was, however, looked upon as a rival of the gracious Georgiana, and many satirical shafts, both by verse and picture, were launched at her full-blown charms. Balloons, as novelties at that time, were exciting a share of attention, and Madame Blubber as the “Ærostatic Dilly,” was, as a balloon “launched at Richmond Park,” shown in mid-air, convoying to the hustings outlying and dependent voters.

Walpole wrote under date, April 13th:—

“Mr. Fox has all the popularity in Westminster; and, indeed, is so amiable and winning that, could he have stood in person all over England, I question whether he would not have carried the parliament. The beldams hate him; but most of the pretty women in England are indefatigable in making interest for him; the Duchess of Devonshire in particular. I am ashamed to say how coarsely she has been received by some worse than tars. But nothing has shocked me so much as what I heard this morning. At Dover, they roasted a poor fox alive by the most diabolical allegory—a savage meanness that an Iroquois could not have committed!” “During her canvass the Duchess made no scruple of visiting the humblest of the electors, dazzling and enchanting them by the fascination of her manner, the power of her beauty and the influence of her high rank, and sometimes carrying off to the hustings the meanest mechanic in her own carriage.”

“The Duchess of Devonshire,” writes Lord Cornwallis, on the 19th of April, “is indefatigable in her canvass for Fox. She was in the most blackguard houses in Long Acre by eight o’clock this morning.”

The fact of the duchess having purchased the vote of an impracticable butcher by a kiss is said to be unquestionable. It was on one of these occasions that the well-known compliment is said to have been made her by an Irish mechanic, “I could light my pipe at your eyes.”

Of great beauty and unconquerable spirit, she tried all her powers of persuasion on the shopkeepers of Westminster, as Earl Stanhope declares in his “Life of Pitt”:—

“Other ladies, who could not rival her beauty, might at least follow her example. Scarce a street or alley which they did not canvass on behalf of him whom they persisted in calling the ‘Man of the People,’ at the very moment when the popular voice was declaring against him.”

Pitt and his royal patron were, however, exerting every method to secure the downfall of the redoubtable “Carlo Khan.” Up to the third day of the polling, “Fox was in a minority, notwithstanding the immense exertions that were made on his behalf. The Ministerial Party,” according to the statement of their own historians, “were sanguine in the hope of wresting from him the greatest and most enlightened, as it was then considered, of all the represented boroughs of England.” Pitt’s proud spirit was roused at the obstinacy of the contest, and, unlike his more magnanimous if not greater rival, he lost patience with his opponents; in a strain of acrimonious pleasantry he wrote to Wilberforce, “Westminster goes on well in spite of the Duchess of Devonshire and the other Women of the People, but when the poll will close is uncertain;” this was on the seventh day of the poll, and Pitt then little dreamt of its running for forty days uninterruptedly. By the 23rd of April, the premier was evidently losing temper, and the strain of electioneering was becoming tenser, as appears from a letter written to his cousin, James Grenville, afterwards Lord Glastonbury:—

“My dear Sir,

“Admiral Hood tells me he left Lord Nugent at Bath, disposed to come to town if a vote at Westminster should be material. I think from the state of the poll it may be very much so. There is no doubt, I believe, of final success on a scrutiny, if we are driven to it; but it is a great object to us to carry the return for both in the first instance, and on every account as great an object to Fox to prevent it. It is uncertain how long the poll will continue, but pretty clear it cannot be over till after Monday. If you will have the goodness to state these circumstances to Lord Nugent, and encourage his good designs, we shall be very much obliged to you; and still more, should neither health nor particular engagements detain you, if, besides prevailing upon him, you could give your own personal assistance. At all events I hope you will forgive my troubling you, and allow for the importunity of a hardened electioneerer.... Mainwaring and Wilkes are considerably ahead in Middlesex, and Lord Grimston has come in, instead of Halsey, for Herts.”

Pitt further alludes to W. W. Grenville, his cousin, “the kissing young gentleman” who visited Cowper in the course of his canvass, “I have not yet heard the event of Bucks, but William was safe, and, by the first day’s poll, Aubrey’s prospect seems very good.” John Aubrey was returned second, and William Grenville was at the head of the poll.

Fox’s prospects were gradually improved as concerned his own seat at Westminster; but the slaughter amongst his followers was altogether unexampled, the muster-roll of “Fox’s Martyrs” grew ominously longer as each election was determined. On the twenty-third day of the polling at Covent Garden the Whig chief passed Sir Cecil Wray, and continued to advance until the fortieth, when, by law, the contest closed. On the 17th of May, the poll stood—Lord Hood, 6,694; Fox, 6,237; Sir Cecil Wray, 5,998.

“There was,” writes Earl Stanhope, “strong reason, however, to suspect many fraudulent practices in the previous days, since it seemed clear that the total number of votes recorded was considerably beyond the number of persons entitled to the franchise. For this reason Sir Cecil Wray at once demanded a scrutiny, and the High Bailiff—illegally, as Fox contended—granted the request. But further still, the High Bailiff, Mr. Corbett, who was no friend to Fox, refused to make any legal return until this scrutiny should be decided. Thus Westminster was left for the present destitute of Representatives, and Fox would have been without a seat in the new Parliament but for the friendship of Sir Thomas Dundas, through which he had been already returned the member for the close boroughs of Kirkwall.”

Gallant Whig poetasters were rapturous in their praises of the fair canvassers who were making such havoc in the Tory ranks.