Part 18

In the evening great contests and bloody battles took place in the streets. The bludgeon men of Davis had been increased to eight hundred; each bludgeon being heavy enough to knock down an ox, they being, as I have before stated, six feet prong staves sawn off in three lengths, about two feet each. In the front of the White Lion, in Broadstreet, the bearers of these weapons attacked the populace, whom they beat and bruised most unmercifully for some time; who, in return, at length, beat and drove them to all quarters, and in their fury they demolished the windows of the White Lion Inn, and gutted the house. Bleeding and smarting with their wounds, they then hurried to Clifton, to the house of Mr. Davis, whom they considered as the author of all their wrongs, and of the assaults which had been committed upon them by the hireling ruffians of bludgeon-men, who all wore Davis's colours, and acted under regular disciplined leaders, trained and commanded by the notorious Jemmy Lockley, a boxer and Sheriff's officer. While that party of the populace, which had directed its course to Clifton, demolished the whole of the windows of Mr. Davis's house, and pulled up all the shrubs in his front lawn, another party demolished the doors and windows of the Council House.

When I went to the Hall the next morning, I never witnessed such a scene of devastation as the White Lion exhibited; every window and window frame was destroyed, and there remained only so many holes in the walls. However, as I mean to give a faithful history of this election, I cannot do better than to republish three letters addressed at the time to the Electors of Bristol, by Mr. Cobbett, and also to state the various accounts that were given of these transactions by the Times, the Courier, and the Morning Chronicle papers. I will begin with the following letter, published in the first page of the 12th volume of Cobbett's Register, July 4th, 1812:--

TO THE INDEPENDENT ELECTORS OF BRISTOL.

GENTLEMEN,--Your city, the third in England in point of population, and for the bravery and public spirit of its inhabitants the first in the world, is now become, with all those who take an interest in the public welfare, an object of anxious attention. You, as the Electors of Westminster were, have long been the sport of the two artful factions, who have divided between them the profits arising from the obtaining of your votes, One of each faction has always been elected; and as one of them always belonged to the faction out of place, you, whose intentions and views were honest, consoled yourselves with the reflection, that if one of your members was in place, or belonged to the IN party, your other member, who belonged to the OUT party, was always in the House to watch him. But now, I think, experience must have convinced you that the OUT as well as the IN member was always seeking his own gain at your expense, and that of the nation, and that the two factions, though openly hostile to each other, have always been perfectly well agreed as to the main point, namely, the perpetuating of those sinecure places and all those other means by which the public money is put into the pockets of individuals.

With this conviction in your minds, it is not to be wondered at that you are now beginning to make a stand for the remnant of your liberties; and, as I am firmly persuaded, that your success would be of infinite benefit to the cause of freedom in general, and of course to our country, now groaning under a compilation of calamities, I cannot longer withold a public expression of the sentiments which I entertain respecting the struggle in which you are engaged; and especially respecting the election now going on, the proceedings of a recent meeting in London, and the pretensions of Mr. Hunt, compared with those of Sir Samuel Romilly.

As to the first, you will bear in mind, gentlemen, how often we, who wish for a Reform of the Parliament, have contended that no Member of the House of Commons ought to be a placeman or a pensioner. We have said, and we have shown, that in that Act of Parliament by virtue of which the present family was exalted to the throne of this kingdom; we have shown, that by that Act it was provided that no man having a pension or place of emolument under the Crown, should be capable of being a Member of the House of Commons. It is indeed true, that this provision has since been repealed; but it having been enacted, and that too on so important an occasion, shows clearly how jealous our ancestors were upon the subject. When we ask for a revival of this law, we are told that it cannot be wanted, because, if a man be a placeman or a pensioner before he be chosen at all, those who choose him know it; and if they like a placeman or a pensioner, who else has any thing to do with the matter? And, if a man be made a placeman or pensioner after he be chosen, he must vacate his seat, and return to his constituents to be re-elected before he can sit again; if they reject him he cannot sit, and if they re-choose him, who else has any thing to do with the matter?

To be sure it is pretty impudent for these people to talk to us about choice, and about re-choosing and about rejecting, and the like, when they know that we are all well informed of the nature of choosings and re-choosings at Old Sarum, at Gatton, at Queenborough, at Bodmin, at Penryn, at Honiton, at Oakhampton, and at more than a hundred other places; it is pretty impudent to talk to us about members going back to their constituents at such places as those here mentioned; but what will even the impudence of these people find to say in the case of those members who, upon having grasped places or pensions, do go back to their constituents, and upon being rejected by them, go to some borough where the people have no voice; or who, not relishing the prospect, do not go to face their former constituents, but go at once to some borough, and there take a seat, which, by cogent arguments, no doubt, some one has been prevailed on to go out of to make way for them? What will even the impudence of the most prostituted knaves of hired writers find to say in cases like these?

Of the former, Mr. GEORGE TIERNEY presents a memorable instance. He was formerly a member for Southwark, chosen on account of his professions in favour of freedom, by a numerous body of independent electors. But having taken a fancy to a place which put some thousands a year of the public money into his own individual pocket, having had the assurance to go back to his constituents, and having been by them rejected with scorn, be was immediately chosen by some borough where a seat bad been emptied in order to receive him, and now he is representative of the people of a place called Bandon Bridge, in Ireland, a place which, in all probability, he never saw, and the inhabitants of which are, I dare say, wholly unconscious of having the honour to be represented by so famous a person. Your late representative, Mr. BRAGGE BATHURST, has acted a more modest, or at least a more prudent part. He has got a fat place; a place, the profits of which would find some hundreds of Englishmen's families in provisions all the year round; be has been made what is called Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, which will give him immense patronage, and of course afford him ample means of enriching his family, friends, and dependents, besides his having held places of great salary for many years before. Thus loaded with riches arising from the public means, he does not, I perceive, intend to face you; he cannot, it seems, screw himself up to that pitch. We shall in all likelihood see in a few days what borough opens its chaste arms to receive him; but, as a matter of much greater consequence, I now beg to offer you some remarks upon the measures that have been taken to supply his place.

It was announced to his supporters at Bristol, about three months ago, that he did not mean to offer himself for that city again, and Mr. RICHARD HART DAVIS, of whom you will hear enough, came forward as his successor; openly avowing all his principles, and expressly saying, that he would tread in his steps. What those steps are, you have seen; and what those principles are, the miserable people of England feel in the effects of war and taxation. But, I beg your attention to some circumstances connected with the election, which ought to be known and long borne in mind. The WRIT for electing a member for Bristol, in the room of Bragge Bathurst, was moved for in the House of Commons; on Tuesday evening, June 23, and at the same moment a writ for electing a member for Colchester, in the room of Richard Hart Davis, was moved for. So you see they both vacate at the same instant; your man not liking to go down to Bristol, the other vacates a seat for another place, in order to go down to face you in his stead. Observe too with what quickness the thing is managed. Nobody knows, or at least none of you know, that Bragge is going to vacate his seat. Davis apparently knew it, because we see him vacating at the same moment. The WRIT is sent off the same night; it gets to Bristol on Wednesday morning the 24th; the law requires four days notice on the part of the Sheriffs; they give it; and the election comes on the next Monday. So you see if Mr. HUNT had been living in Ireland or Scotland, or even in the northern counties of England, or in some parts of Cornwall, the election might have been over before there would have been a POSSIBILITY of his getting to Bristol. And though his place of residence was within thirty miles of London, he who was at home on his farm, had but just time to reach you soon enough to give you an opportunity of exercising your rights upon this occasion. Mr. Hunt could not know that the writ was moved for till Wednesday evening, living, as he does, at a distance from a post town; and, as it happened, he did not know of it, I believe, till Thursday night; so that it was next to impossible for him to come to London (which I suppose was necessary) and to reach Bristol before Saturday. While, on the other hand, Mr. Davis had chosen his time, and of course had made all his preparations.

Such, Gentlemen, have been the means used preparatory to the election. Let us now see what a scene your city exhibits at this moment; first, however, taking a look at the under-plot going on in London, in favour of Sir SAMUEL ROMILLY.

It is stated in the London newspapers, and particularly in The Times of Saturday last, that there was a meeting on Friday at the Crown and Anchor in the Strand, the object of which was "to raise money" by subscription for "supporting the election of Sir Samuel Romilly at Bristol;" and it is added, that a large sum was accordingly raised. This meeting appears to me to have for its object the deceiving of the electors of Bristol; an object, however, which I am satisfied will not be accomplished to any great extent. I do not mean to say that Sir Samuel Romilly would use deceit; but I am quite sure that there are those who would use it upon this occasion. The truth is, that the raising of these large sums of money (amounting already, they say, to 8,000l.) proves that Sir Samuel Romilly does not put his trust in the FREE VOICE of the people of Bristol. At this meeting Mr. BARING, one of the persons who makes the loans to the Government, was in the chair. This alone is a circumstance sufficient to enable you to judge not only of the character of the meeting, but also of what sort of conduct is expected from Sir Samuel Romilly, if he were placed in Parliament by the means of this subscription. Mr. WHITBREAD was also at the meeting, and spoke in favour of the subscription. But we must not be carried away by names. Mr. Whitbread does many good things; but Mr. Whitbread is not always right. Mr. Whitbread subscribed to bring Mr. Sheridan in for Westminster, and was, indeed, the man who caused him to obtain the appearance of a majority; Mr. Whitbread supported that same Sheridan afterwards against Lord COCHRANE; and though Mr. Whitbread is so ready to subscribe now, he refused to subscribe to the election of Sir Francis Burdett, notwithstanding the election was in a city of which he was an inhabitant and an elector. These, Gentlemen, are facts, of which you should be apprised; otherwise names might deceive you.

I beg to observe also, that at this meeting there was nothing said about a Parliamentary Reform, without which you must be satisfied no good of any consequence can be done. There was indeed a Mr. MILLS, who said he came from Bristol, who observed that "the great majority of the inhabitants of Bristol felt perfectly convinced of the necessity of SOMETHING LIKE Reform." And is this all? Does your conviction go no farther than this? I remember that, when a little boy, I was crying to my mother for a bit of bread and cheese, and that a journeyman carpenter, who was at work hard by, compassionately offered to chalk me out a big piece upon a board. I forget the way in which I vented my rage against him; but the offer has never quitted my memory. Yet really this seems to come up to the notion of Mr. Mills; the carpenter offered me SOMETHING LIKE a big piece of bread and cheese. Oh! no, Gentlemen, it is not this something like that you want; you want the thing itself; and if Sir Samuel Romilly meant that you should have it, do you believe that neither he, nor any one for him, would have made any specific promise upon the subject? Even after Mr. Mills had said that you wanted something like Reform, there was nobody who ventured to say that Sir Samuel Romilly would endeavour to procure even that for you. His friends were told, that if he would distinctly pledge himself to Reform, whether in place or out of place, Mr. Hunt, who only wished to see that measure accomplished, would himself assist in his election; but this Sir Samuel Romilly has not done, and therefore he is not the man whom you ought to choose, though he is beyond all comparison better than hundreds of other public men, and though he is, in many respects, a most excellent Member of Parliament. Gentlemen, these friends of Sir Samuel Romilly call upon you to choose him, because he is, they tell you, a decided enemy of the measures of the present ministers. Now they must very well know, that all those measures have had the decided support of the parliament. Well, then, do these friends allow, that the parliament are the real representatives of the people, and that they speak the people's voice? If Sir Samuel's friends do allow this, then they do, in fact, say, that he is an enemy to all those measures which the people's voice approves of; and, if they do not allow this, if they say that the parliament do not speak the people's voice, and are not their real representatives, hove can they hope that any man will do you any good who is not decidedly for a reform of that parliament? Let the meeting at the Crown and Anchor answer these questions, or, in the name of decency, I conjure them to hold their tongues, and to put their subscriptions back again into their pockets.

To say the truth (and this is not a time to disguise it from you) this subscription is a subscription against, and not for, the freedom of election. If Sir Samuel Romilly's friends were willing to put their trust in the free good-will of the people of Bristol, why raise money in such large quantities, and especially why resort to party men and to loan makers for this purpose? They will say, perhaps, that the money is intended for the purpose of carrying down the London voters, and for that of fetching voters from elsewhere; but, why are they afraid to put their trust in the resident voters of Bristol? The object of this subscription is very far indeed from resembling the object of that which was set on foot in Westminster, which was not to gain votes by dint of money, but merely to pay the expenses of printing, of clerks, and other little matters inseparable from an election at Westminster; and the whole of which did not amount to more than about eight hundred pounds; whereas as many thousands are stated to be already subscribed for procuring the election of Sir Samuel Romilly. In short, this attempt of the friends of Sir Samuel Romilly is like many others that have been made before. It is purse against purse. Mr. PROTHERO has shaken his purse at Sir Samuel; and, as the latter does not choose to engage with his own purse, his friends, with a loan maker at their head, came forward to make up a purse for him; and the free and unbought voice of the electors of Bristol is evidently intended by neither party to have any weight at all in the decision.

Let us now return and take a view of the political picture which Bristol at this moment presents. And here, the first observation that strikes one is, that neither the friends of Sir Samuel Romilly nor the friends of Mr. Prothero say one word in opposition to Mr. Hart Davis, though he avowedly stands upon the principles of Mr. Bragge and the present Ministers; though he quitted his canvass about ten weeks ago, to come express to London to vote in favour of the Orders in Council; and though he now says, that he will tread in the steps of Mr. Bragge. Though they have all this before their eyes, not one single syllable does any one of them utter against the pretensions or movements of Mr. Davis; and, though the meeting at the Crown and Anchor took place several days after the Bristol and Colchester writs were moved for, and though the parties at the meeting must necessarily have been well acquainted with all that I have above stated to you upon the subject of those writs, not one word did they utter against the pretensions of Mr. Davis, nor did they (according to the printed report of their proceedings) even mention his name, or take the smallest notice of the circumstance, that an election, a little, snug, rotten-borough-like election, was, at that moment, getting up in that very city, for the interest and honour of which they were affecting so much concern! And can you, then, believe them sincere? Can you believe, that they have any other view than merely that of securing a seat for the party in Bristol? Can you doubt that the contest, on their part, is not for the principle, but for the seat?

Having pointed out this circumstance to your attention, it is hardly necessary for me to advert to the conduct of Mr. Hunt, which, in this case in particular, forms a contrast with that of the other parties too striking not to have produced a lasting impression upon your minds. He does not content himself with talking about defending your liberties. He acts as well as talks. He hears that the enemy is at your camp, and he flies to rescue you from his grasp. He does not waste his time in a tavern in London, drawing up flourishing resolutions about "public spirit." He hastens among you; he looks your and his adversary in the face: he shows you that you may depend upon him in the hour of trial. These, Gentlemen, are marks of such a character in a representative as the times demand. Sir Samuel Romilly is a very worthy gentleman; an honest man; a humane man; a man that could not, in my opinion, be by any means tempted to do a cruel or dishonest act; and he is, too, a man of great talents. But, I have no scruple to say, that I should prefer, and greatly prefer, Mr. Hunt to Sir Samuel Romilly, as a Member of Parliament; for, while I do not know, and do not believe, that the latter excels the former in honesty or humanity, I am convinced that his talents, though superior, perhaps, in their kind, are not equal, in value to the public, to the talents possessed by Mr. Hunt, who is at this moment giving you a specimen of the effect of those talents.

Gentlemen, the predominance of Lawyers, in this country, has produced amongst us a very erroneous way of thinking with respect to the talents of public men; and, contrary to the notions of the world in general, we are apt to think a man great in mind in proportion to the glibness of his tongue. With us, to be a great talker is to be a great man; but perhaps a falser rule of judging never was adopted. It is so far from being true as a general maxim, that it is generally the contrary of the truth; and, if you look back through the list of our own public men, you will find that, in general, they have been shallow and mischievous in proportion to their gift of talking. We have been brought to our present miserable state by a lawyer-like policy, defended in lawyer-like debates. Plain good sense has been brow-beaten out of countenance; has been talked down, by the politicians from the bar; haranguing and special pleading and quibbling have usurped the place of frank and explicit statement and unsophisticated reasoning. In Mr. Hunt you have no lawyer, but you have a man who is not to be brow-beaten into silence. You have a man not to be intimidated by the frowns or the threats of wealth or of rank; a man not to be induced to abandon his duty towards you from any consideration of danger to himself; and, I venture to foretell (begging that my words may be remembered) that, if you elect him, the whole country will soon acknowledge the benefit conferred on it by the city of Bristol.

Gentlemen, this letter will, in all likelihood, find you engaged in the bustle of an election. With all the advantages on the side of your adversary, you may not, perhaps, upon the present occasion, be able to defeat him. But you will have a chance; you will have an opportunity of trying; you will have an election; and this you would not have had if it had not been for Mr. Hunt, for the whole affair would have been over before you had scarcely heard of it. At the very least you will have some days of liberty to speak your minds; to tell Mr. Davis what you think of him and of his predecessor; to declare aloud your grievances and your indignation; and even for this liberty you will be indebted to Mr. Hunt, and solely to Mr. Hunt. You are told of the zeal of Mr. Prothero and Sir Samuel Romilly in your service; you are told of their desire to promote your interest and your honour; but where are they now? Where are they when the enemy is in your city, when you were to have been handed over from Mr. Bragge Bathurst to Hart Davis as quietly as if you had been a cargo of tallow or of corn? It is now, it is in this moment of real need, that Mr. Hunt comes to your aid; and, if he fail in defeating, he will, at the least, harass your enemy, make his victory over you cost him dear, and by exposing the sources and means of his success, lay the foundation of his future defeat and disgrace.--I am, your friend,

WM. COBBETT.

State Prison, Nerogate, Monday, 29th June, 1812.

Such of my readers as are not old enough to remember the events, or to have read Mr. Cobbett's Register at that time, will acquire from this letter a pretty cleat insight into the state of the case at this period of the proceedings. It has already been seen, that, on the first morning, I made my way to the hustings, and, under every disadvantage, maintained the right of election in the City of Bristol. I had no allies but the people; of them, indeed, I had the great mass with me; but, though I had well-wishers in all the richer classes, there was scarcely a single man beyond the rank of a journeyman, who had the courage openly to give me any countenance or support. The Whigs and Tories united with all their accumulated force against me. I had, therefore, to contend, single-handed, against all the power, wealth and influence of all parties and factions in the city. All the corporation, all the merchants, all the tradesmen, all the clergy and priests, whether of the church of England or of the numberless sects of dissenters, all these, and all whom they could array under their banners, were volunteers to uphold the most corrupt and profligate system of election that ever disgraced the rottenest of rotten boroughs. Then came the hireling legion, consisting of a swarm of more foul and noxious vermin than Moses inflicted upon the land of Egypt. It was made up of all the attorneys, and pettifoggers, with their clerks, scamps, and runners; every man, or rather every reptile, of them, being profusely fed to bark, to snarl, to cavil, and to bully; and all of them more ravenous and ferocious than sharks or wolves. It is, indeed, almost a libel upon the sharks and wolves to compare them with such creatures. I cannot, perhaps, give a better idea of them than in the forcible, though rather coarse language of a mechanic, who declared that, "if hell were raked with a small tooth-comb, it would not be possible to collect another such a gang." In the evening, I requested my Committee to procure me a list of these worthy limbs of the law; and, if I recollect right, the number was forty-one. I know that it was one under or one over forty, but I do not know which. There they were, Whigs and Tories, bitter haters of each other on all other occasions, but now jumbled together like pigs in a stye, or like hungry curs of all sorts of mis-begotten and degenerate breeds. I believe that the famous Mr. WEBB HALL, who was then a practising attorney in Bristol (of the firm of Jarman and Hall); I believe that this profound agricultural quack of 1821, was, in 1812, one of the formidable phalanx which was drawn up against me.

O, how this blessed band did roar and bluster, and pretend to be shocked and horrified at my "matchless impudence," in thinking to oppose "the amiable" and mighty candidate of the White Lion Club! The reader will bear in mind that there never had been a real contested election in Bristol since that of 1774, when Mr. Burke and Mr. Cruger were elected, upon the opposition or Whig interest, to the exclusion of Earl Nugent and Mr. Brickdale. At the election in 1780, the ministerial faction returned both members. "From that period till 1812," says Mr. Oldfield, in his History of the Boroughs, "the city of Bristol has been governed by two party clubs, and each club has nominated a member, who were quietly returned without any opposition." The people of Bristol, I found, distinguished their two factions by the designation of the high and the low party: the Whigs deriving their principal support from the lower class of tradesmen and journeymen.

The hungry, grasping, quirking attorneys thought they were all the time pretending to be shocked at my opposition to "the worthy Mr. Davis," were, in fact, frightened out of their senses, every moment of the first day, lest I should make a slip, so as to enable their worthy leader, Mr. Arthur Palmer, the perpetual Under Sheriff, to take an advantage of it and close the election. These mercenaries were all hired at five guineas a day each, as long as the election lasted; and of course the cunning old trickster, Palmer, was always upon the look out to spoil their sport, by closing the election. This Squire Palmer, this perpetual tormentor of the poor distressed debtors of the City, was a cavilling, quibbling, empty-headed, testy, old womanish chap, scarcely worthy to be designated by the title of a man. He was eternally yelping, like a cur, without any rhyme or reason; and the reader may estimate the pack by the description that I have given of this, the foremost hound. There was another of this gang who put himself very forward, and who was very insolent to some of my friends. Such a looking creature I had scarcely ever seen in human form; he had coal-black, straight hair, hanging down a sallow-looking face, that had met with very rough usage from the ravages of the small-pox. In fact, his face resembled a piece of cold, dirty, honey combed tripe, and had very little more expression in it; and the whole was completed by two heavy, dark eyes, which looked like leaden bullets stuck in clay. This worthy had been going on for some time in an impertinent way, on which I was about to admonish him; and, as a preliminary, I asked him, with great coolness, "pray, Sir, is not your naive Leach?" "Yes," said he, "it is Leech, and I should like to suck thy blood!" This was esteemed a brilliant sally of wit, and was received with noisy approbation by his surrounding friends. Well! I thought to myself, I am amongst a precious set of cannibals, indeed, and it will require all my temper to manage with such a tribe. There, too, sat the Sheriffs. The one of them, Mr. Sheriff Brice, a sugar-baker, was as upstart, whipper-snapper, waspish a little gentleman as ever disgraced the seat of office. I soon discovered that I was not to expect from him an atom of liberality or fair play. Mr. Sheriff Benjamin Bickley, the other Sheriff, appeared to be an easy, good sort of man, that wished to take it all very coolly and unconcernedly--to wit, "you may settle it just as you please, gentlemen," or some such answer as that, when he was appealed to. However, there was, altogether, a spirit of fairness about him, which, when it came to the push, he had too much honesty to disguise; so that, when he could be moved to interfere, it was generally with impartiality. These were our two Sheriffs and returning officers. But, as they thought it quite beneath them to understand any thing about the law of election, they had their assessor, a barrister, to settle all the law points with me; this assessor was Edmond Griffith, Esq. who is now one of the police magistrates in the metropolis, but at which office I forget. The points of law I carried nineteen times out of twenty, for I had Disney's Abridgement at my fingers ends, and that author's volume we made the umpire in all contested points. Before I proceed any farther, I must say, that, during the whole of this tremendous contest, Mr. Griffith conducted himself in every respect like a gentleman and a man of honour; and when I have said this of Mr. Chancellor Griffith, and Mr. Sheriff Bickley, I shall not belie any person in the city of Bristol by paying him a similar compliment. With these two exceptions, I can safely affirm, that I never received an act of civility, liberality or fair play, from any of that class that call themselves gentlemen, in Bristol, during the whole fifteen days that the election lasted. But, to make amends for this, I received numerous acts of kindness from many worthy tradesmen, and such proofs of devoted attachment from almost the whole of the population, male and female, with the exception of the hirelings and dependents of the gentry, as I have never seen surpassed to this day.

Between the time of adjourning the poll to that of meeting again the next morning, I received no less than half a score anonymous letters, threatening my life, if I appeared at the Hall the next day. This had, of course, no weight with me; but it shows by what a gang of desperadoes I was surrounded. I had not the least doubt of their good will to put this threat into effect; it was the fear of a dreadful retribution that alone deterred them from hiring some of the numerous assassins, who, it was said, had volunteered for a good round sum to become my butchers. All sorts of schemes and plans were devised to get rid of me; but nothing was thought likely to answer. At length it was proposed, by certain members of the White Lion Club, to bribe me with the offer of a sum sufficient to purchase a seat from one of the Boroughmongers, if I wished to be in Parliament. This was believed to be the only plan, and every one appeared to think that it would be much better to give me 5000l. to withdraw, than it would be for them to pay 20,000l., which was the least the contest would be likely to cost, besides all the trouble to boot. But just as this was apparently unanimously agreed upon, one of the sapient attorneys, who happened to know me a little personally, put this very natural question, "Pray, Gentlemen, who is the man that is to offer Mr. Hunt this bribe?" This, as I was informed, put an end at once to the scheme; there being no one who would undertake to be the messenger to bear such a proposition to me. The task would indeed have been an absurd as well as a hazardous one; for I offered myself to the people of Bristol upon the Constitutional principle that I would not spend one shilling, neither would I canvass the electors; and I further tendered an affidavit, which I offered to swear before the Mayor, that I never would accept of a place of profit or a pension under the Crown, either directly or indirectly, either for myself or any one of my family. It was, therefore, not very likely that I would consent to creep into Parliament by corrupt means.

Well, the election was fairly begun, two candidates were regularly proposed, it had been put to the vote, the shew of hands had been declared by the Sheriffs to be in my favour, a poll had been demanded by Mr. Davis, the poll was open and votes on each side had been taken, and the poll been adjourned till nine o'clock the next morning. One thing was made obvious, on the first day, to my opponents. It was clearly ascertained that I could not be put off my guard; and that in the midst of this terrible struggle and hurlyburly, I was perhaps the calmest and most collected man in the whole assemblage. All hopes of putting an end to the election were consequently quite banished from the mind even of the arch-trickster, Mr. Arthur Palmer, and there was nothing left for them but to endure the fifteen days contest, or try to bring it by force to a sudden conclusion. It was then, as I have before stated, that the bludgeon-men were let loose to accomplish the plan, and glut the vengeance of their enraged and mortified employers; and, after I was retired to bed at my inn, to recruit my strength, that I might be able, on the next day, to commence single-handed, the task of keeping in order these said forty limbs of the law, and dreadful was the struggle. Mr. Davis had all the power of authority and wealth thrown into his scale; and finding that I had all the popularity, his supporters set to work the engines of intimidation, corrupt influence, and bribery. All day long my voters had to submit to insults and assaults, committed upon them by the bludgeon-men, who had increased their numbers to eight hundred. These fellows, together with the whole of the City police, conducted themselves in the most outrageous manner, by maltreating the people. Their gangs had absolutely blocked up the whole of Broad-street, and every avenue leading to the hustings. Information was frequently brought to me, that these ruffians were assaulting and beating back my votes; and I frequently left the hustings and went into the streets to rescue those who were so unmercifully attacked, which I always effected whenever I went forth.

When the evening came, and the poll was adjourned to the next day, I retired, mounted my horse, which was waiting for me at the Hall door, and rode to the Exchange, to give the multitude a history of the proceedings of the day in the Guildhall. After giving them a correct detail of the business of the day, and the state of the poll, I urged every man to get as well armed as he could, and by all means resist the illegal violence of the hired bludgeon-men; but on no account to strike first. It behoved them, I said, to stand up manfully for their rights, and not be driven off the field, particularly out of their own city, by hired ruffians. I told them that, after I had been home to my inn and taken my dinner, it was my intention to ride round the city for a little fresh air, and that I should, if they wished it, have no objection to my friends accompanying me, to make a sort of general canvass. This communication was received with universal approbation, all declaring that they would attend me; and I promised to start from my inn, the Talbot, precisely at seven o'clock, to ride an hour or an hour and a half.

At the appointed time they were all as good as their words, and the Talbot was surrounded by perhaps not less than from ten to fifteen thousand people. I also was as good as my word, for as soon as the clock struck seven I mounted my horse, and rode out of the inn yard amongst them. I was of course hailed with such shouts as made the whole city ring again. Unaccompanied by any human being whom I knew, I threw myself amongst them, and made my way through a passage that was opened, over the bridge and down by the quay, gently following the course of the river from Bristol-bridge even till I came round by the Broad-quay to the draw-bridge. The whole of this quay is covered with all sorts of timber, wood, poles, faggot piles, and other rough merchandise, principally brought. from Wales. The people eyed these faggot piles very wishfully; at length one drew out a stick, another followed, till, as we passed along, the whole male part of the multitude became armed with bludgeons and sticks as well as Mr. Davis's bludgeon-men. Though I could have wished that the weapons had been otherwise obtained, yet I must confess that I was not very sorry to see what had happened, as the White Lion hirelings had become so outrageously brutal that it was absolutely necessary to put them down, or the next day we should not have been enabled to bring up a single vote. Eight hundred ruffians, collected from the collieries at Kingswood and from Cock-road, the haunt of every species of desperadoes; such a gang as this, well paid and well filled with ale, and knowing that, do what they would, they should be protected by the authorities, was a sort of force that was not to be trifled with. I therefore gave the word, let none of my friends strike first, but let no one upon such an occasion as that for which we are contending, which is for the freedom of election, let no one be insulted or assaulted with impunity by the hired bludgeon-men. If they once begin to knock down the people, let them without ceremony be driven out of the city.

Such a body of men as were with me, armed each of them with a good thick stick, made rather a formidable appearance, and I saw that the countenances of the citizens, shopkeepers, and merchants, as I passed, evidently betrayed the greatest alarm. As soon as they had attended me to my inn, and given me three cheers at parting, the cry was, "to Broad-street! to Broad-street!" which was the rendezvous for Davis's bludgeon-men, who had got complete possession of that street, and remained opposite the White Lion the whole of the day, stopping up all access to the Guildhall, which is in the same street. Every one who was not of the Blue party, and who had attempted to pass, had been not only insulted but assaulted, and sometimes knocked down and half murdered. One man had been killed the night before. Every one now affected to dread Hunt's mob; but I replied "depend upon it they only want their rights, and their rights they shall have, as far as maintaining the freedom of election, or they shall fight for it." In less than a quarter of an hour after they quitted the Talbot, and before I had finished my tea, I heard a tremendous shouting, and upon inquiring the cause, I found that the bludgeon-men had all fled at the approach of my men. On the evening before, when the people had no weapons, the bludgeon gentry had received a specimen of what they could do in resisting unjust and usurped power; and now that the people had bludgeons as well as their enemies, the hirelings took to their heels, and the volunteers were victorious, without striking scarcely a blow. The timid and cowardly race that had employed these bludgeon-men, in whom they placed great confidence to save them from Hunt's mob, began to quake for fear; but their fears were groundless. Having by their victory gained that to which they were entitled, a free and unmolested passage through the streets of their city, they were content; and, instead of acting in the same way, that, under similar circumstances, their dastardly oppressors would have done, instead of committing the slightest depredations upon any body or any thing, they returned to communicate their triumph to me, which they announced by three cheers, and then quietly and peaceably dispersed, and retired each man to his home, without even having broken a single pane of glass, that ever came to my knowledge. The very idea of having a free election was, however, quite out of the question with my opponents. They sent off for the military, as it was reported, without further delay, though there did not exist the least riot, or probability of one; in fact, all rioting and bloodshed had been put an end to by driving the hireling bludgeon-men to quarters, and clearing the streets of them.

By this time I had received a considerable accession to my forces at the inn. My committee, or rather the committee of the free men, mustered very strong. Mr. Williams, a very respectable shoemaker, together with Mr. Cranidge, a schoolmaster, had now joined the standard of Liberty, and added their names to my committee. Every one who entered the committee subscribed his name to act as a volunteer, without the slightest pecuniary remuneration. There were the two Pimms, Lyddiard, Mr. Bright, in the Old Market, Mr. Brownjohn, Mr. Wright, the famous pedestrian, who has lately accomplished such feats in Yorkshire, such as no one but a real Radical could perform; a Mr. Webb, a sort of an attorney, a very active man, who was generally in the chair at most of the committee meetings, and who used to be very particular that every one who joined the committee should pledge himself to act as a volunteer, &c. without fee or reward. There was also a Mr. Hornbrook, who, together with Webb, took a very prominent part in the talking department. There were several more, but these determined Radicals managed every thing, and carried all my plans into effect. I seldom saw any thing of the committee in a body, except that every evening I paid them a mere visit of form for a few minutes. It was real purity of election; not one shilling was to be spent or given away, every one was to do his best, and to pay his own share of any little expense they were at; and so well understood was it, that it was an election of principle, that scarcely ten persons ever asked for any thing; not even so much as a draught of porter was ever given away to a voter or any one else. There was a daily subscription for printing, and that was all the money that was ever required, and printing was the only thing on which money was spent. Yet even this was a heavy expense. I have since learned that there was a rich Quaker, and two or three rich men, that, under the rose, furnished my committee, or at least some of the members of it, with liberal sums. There was also a lady at Clifton who did the same; and, in truth, I have reason to think that money to a considerable amount was subscribed in this way, which never came to my knowledge, or to the knowledge of the great body of the committee.