The Sun.
London, England, 1829-10-07 00:00:00

he meant. True, about 10 years ago, he had set his
name down for 20/. in a soup subscription for the
.town ; but that was all he had been able to learn of
his munificence.—(A laugh.)—He supposed the
soup was intended just to keep the voters alive
until the following spring,. when the time recurred
of sending more of the Duke of Newcastle's mem-
bers to Parliament to tax the people further for his
Grace's dependents. But he talks of his " inhe-
rent rights of property." Are these to be under-
stood to extend to the consciences of his tenantry,
and to their ejectment whenever they venture to
think for themselves ? What if should the Crown,
on the expiration of his Grace's lease of crown
lands, imitate his example, and pay him in the same
coin ? He would, no doubt, call that unfair; yet
he had no compunction in practising the same treat-
ment upon others who were, he supposed, too weak
to resist his m iodate. When the day came, he
hoped these lands would be let to the public ; at all
events, no change could be worse from that to which
they were at present exposed by his Grace's borough
propensities.
The first resolution was then unanimously adopted.
Mr. KELK wished to add one remark to what he
had already said, and it implicated Mr. Sadler.—
That gentleman went to Mr. Cutts, the butcher, in
Mill-gate, and said he was sorry he had not had
more regard for his own interest than to go against
his landlord. This was a pretty way for an inde-
pendent man to get into Parliament. The law of
England always said that where there was a wrong
there was a remedy. They had obeyed the law in
Newark, and yet they were to be turned out of
their tenements. As Mr. Serjeant Wilde was pre-
sent, perhaps they would hear his opinion of what
was their best course under such extraordinary cir-
cumstances.
Mr. Serjeant WILDS then came forward, and was
received with the loudest cheers. He said that he
should have held himself subject to great censure,
and should have likewise thought himself deprived
of a great privilege, had be not presented himself
before the inhabitants of Newark upon this cccasion.
He had come amongst them on a former occasion to
ask a favour, and for the same purpose he hoped to
see them again for many years.—(Cheers.)--In the
days of their prosperity he hoped he should not be
found absent, but in the days of their trouble and
of their oppression he would not be away.—(Loud
applause.)—He knew of no moment when such a
town as this, possessing the elective franchise, had
so great a right to expect in attendance those who
were, or sought to be, its representatives in Parlia-
ment, than when tyranny, in perversion of law, was
in full operation to deprive freemen of the exercise
of that right, by virtue of which only could members
be fairly chosen. That time had arrived in Newark,
and he appeared before diem as was alike his incli•
nation and duty.—(Cheers.)---In one sense he re-
gretted that he was here us it were alone; he hardly
thought he should have been unaccompanied by
their r epresentatives on such an occasion. Mr.
Sailer had had notice of their proceedings, nor
could he frame a plausible, much less a rea
sonable excuse, for that gentleman's absence ;
he was their member; he was the friend of
the Noble Duke. In every view of his situation this
was the moment when he ought not to have aban-
doned them. If they were right in their complaint
that crying injustice was about to be inflicted upon
them for exercising their franchise, who but their re-
presentative ought to be first called to vindicate them
from such a wrong? He (Mr. Wilde) up to this
moment disbelieved that Mr. Sadler could have been
absent ; for though he could imagine reasons why
the Duke of Newcastle should not be forthcoming,
he could imagine none for their member, unless he
was prepared to desert Newark for ever. Other-
wise he could not be indifferent to such a question
as this. Surely he had not left directions at his
counting-house that no letters but invitations to
dinner should be forwarded after him into the coun-
try. He attended a dinner in Newark and another
at Whitby; but when his constituents complained
of public wrong, he was no where to be found. Mr.
Sadler was bound in justice to be here, and he
would take leave to say, aye, in justice to himself.
He had stood alongside him upon the hustings, and
had hoped not to have missed him just at the mo-
ment when the iron hand of oppression was wresting
from his constituents the elective franchise. It was
true that at the hustings he had not answered the
questions which he (Mr. Serjeant Wilde) had put
to him : he had, however, since made the reply in
the absence of those who could have confuted him,
and after having been refreshed by these dinner in-
vitationE.—(A laugh.)—lt was to be lamented that
he had absented himself on the day of all others when
his attendance was most wanting. They had heard
that Mr. Sadler had, in speaking to an elector, re-
gretted he had gone against his landlord, and inti-
mated some knowledge of the penalty thereby in-
curred by the landlord. Had he, then, been of the
committee who had settled these notices ? If so,
what angry remonstrance did he make to this un-
principled aggression upon the rights of freemen ?
He ought to have been here to have stated how he
came by the knowledge which he had glanced
at, and have explained the character of the
little coterie from which it sprung. Why had he
not answered their invitation to attend ? Had i
been to him a subject of so much consideration tha

the time of attending to it had gone by during the
reflection upon it, or of so much tribulation that he
knew riot how to deal with it ? He ought, indeed
either on his own account or on that of the Duke, to
have been present upon such an occasion. They
were met to-day, as Mr. Sadler must have known,
to consider matter of the deepest importance, not
only to the constituency of Newark, but to that of
the whole kingdom. He did not mean to exagge-
rate the magnitude of this day's question when he
spoke of its operation upon the principle of the elec-
tive franchise, He well knew, indeed, from the
proceedings of Parliament what had been tolerated
in the business of elections; bqt he would fearlessly
venture to say, that the present was the boldest at-
temr which had ever in late times been made to
.. •
subjugatp. the Oective franchise in England. Not-
withstanding the ppwer and galling yoke of the op-
pressor, they were yet boua4 try be moderate, though
firm, in their resistance. The presence of so many
iaia ,vas a sure proof that moderation would charac-
terise th4r rpceedings, and that order and obedience
to the laws woutd Le the rule of their conduct; in fact,
obedience to the law vrap essential to the mainte-
nance of every valuable right which it was in their
powAr 0 enjoy. Ile lamented that neither the Puke
nor his agent was. present on this occasion. His
Grace might, per,ham be considered too high to at-
tend them, but at 'least he might have sent his
agent; they rink to have at least the benefit of his
/Vents, (The name of the agent of the Duke of
Neyvca.sfle isJ Tallents„7,--4 laugh.)—For they had
not, as was rumoured, been 104 under 3 napkin.
Surely if these people felt like other met?, 'they
would not have been absent on such an occasion as

this. Still, though absent, they would not escape
obs;;Tation. There was a power above them 'hich
would awatkep their attention, and compel them to
hear of their own acts; that power was the bulwark
of British liberty, the prgs,—wilich would ring
throuii,bout the kingdom the oppres'siOn .of their
wrong doiagit, That press was, in England,
thank God, ornnipoter4 against oppression, because
it ctight to be, when it advocated the. rights of the
oppressed against the sway of wealth and power.;:,-•
(Cheers.)—lt 0.41 y tleserved encouragement while
employed for purposes so essential to the public
safety. /f Parliament had grown corrupt; it was
because the people had not in past times the senti-
nel of the press to guard their liberty; but these
titzne had passed, and with them the power to lord
over the poo' 7;nd honest, who were (Jetermipad ro
.7sert the rights whieL 1,-.elonged to their station.—
(elkeers,)--rHe spoke, then, tu-Ae.r an awful respon- '
sibiGty, toy !Nbat he said would go ;berme the world,
and he,could n.:-iot serve his fellow countrymen he
had no desire to aggrayati; their evils by showing
.14'W practically their rights might I;e arrested from
them. 911 this occasion, every person who could
read a newspaper would sit in judgment upon what
felt from him. Xis was going to examine the con-

duct of a man who possessed rank, power, and
property, all of which he feared it would be found
he had abused for the most mischievous purposes.
He knew, indeed, that there were examples of
abuses arising out of this kind of influence ; • but
never before, as far he had ever heard, had they
been carried to this extent—never before was there
an example of this degree of pretension to in-
fluence, after the payment of the full rent for pro-
perty also. Rank would always have its claim
for public respect, not because it was necessarily
accompanied with more intelligence, but that it
was supposed to be actuated by higher motives for
the regulation of human conduct. Where, how-
ever, men of rank and property were found to use
their power for evil, they were exposed to public
animadversion. If the law did not reach them,
public opinion could ; and, thank God, there were
no means of escaping at least from that tribunal.
The Duke of Newcastle said in his letter that he
was doing what the law justified. Let him take
care how he relied upon that impression, and how
he ventured to set at nought the weight of pub-
lic opinion throughout the country. Did they com-
plain of his Grace's conduct without cause ? They
knew it was their duty to vote according to
their consciences in the return of their repre-
sentatives; for upon the exercise of that right
depended the safety of their lives, their reli-
gion, and property. For the protection of so
valuable a right, old laws had been enacted
which were fortified by subsequent statutes. The
Duke of Newcastle was miserably educated if this
knowledge had not reached him. He ought to
know that it was not necessary to take money to
come within the purview of these statutes—to re-
ceive any consideration was sufficient to bring the
offender within the pale of the law, and the penalty
was 5001. for every such offence, besides the per-
petual disqualification of the individual; the party
offering, as well as the party taking this considera-
tion, directly or indirectly, was alike implicated. In
these remarks he did not mean to treat the Duke of
Newcastle with rudeness, while he meant to visit
him with wholesome severity as a proud oppressor
of the poor—as a rich man trampling on the rights
of the humble—(Hear, hear) ;—and for it be must
be brought to the exposure of Parliamentary in-
quiry.—(Hear, hear.)—The Duke had mistaken,
when he thought that he was only exercising the
just and legitimate rights of property, he dared not
avow the motive of such conduct, although lie was
prepared to act upon its impulse. He knew well
enough, that so cautious was the law to guard against
corrupt influence, that it permitted any man to ten-
der an oath at the hustings to the voter, to assure
himself against the practice of corruption ; and yet
the Duke felt no compunction at exposing his te-
nants to such an ordeal, bringing, as it did, into
collision their honesty and corrupt dependency.
This shameful avowal could not be made in the face
of Parliament. The question was, whether in point
of fact the law was morally evaded by the Duke of
Newcastle, and acted upon in a tyrannical manner.
His Grace, as well as his member and agent, had
been fully apprized of the object of this meeting:
he knew fairly and above-board what was the cause
of their assembling. Had he not, then, by his con-
duct, admitted they were right in the construction
which they had put upon his actions ? If he had
disavowed the motive imputed to him, then there
would have been no necessity for the meeting. It
was only because of oppression the people of Newark
complained; they middled not with his Grace's real
rights of property, even with their most whimsical dis-
position. But unfortunately his Grace's own statement
confirmed all their apprehensions, and established
the case against him. The Duke says, "If I
rightly understand the objects of the requisitionists,
it is to assert the cause of freedom and indepen-
denee." In no other sense, indeed could he have
understood their object, or suppose the words to be
used. He goes on to state, "no man on earth
values both more than I do." But how does it ap-
pear that he valued them ? Why as a commodity
to sell.—(Hear, hear.)—lle insisted upon having
their votes for his nominee,and if theygave them not
to-day, they must prepare to be ejected to-morrow.
Did his Grace know on what liberty depended in
such a country as England. It meant the privilege
of free and unbiassed action—it meant that and
nothing else.—(Hear, hear.)—Not so his Grace's
construction of it; he loved freedom, but it was the
freedom of doing wrong—it was the independence
of moral restraint—not that the electors should have
the privilege of voting as they wished, but as he
thought. This was loving them with the vengeance
—killing them with kindness.—(A laugh.)—His
Grace proceeds to say—" But as I respect the
liberty of others, so must I demand that others shall
not attempt to interfere with that freedom and in-
dependence which is my right as well as theirs."
What did he mean by these words ? Suppose the
Bribery Oath were tendered to any voter whose
conscience had yielded to his interest, would not the
Duke, not the elector, be the man who had tampered
with his dependent's feelings, and compelled him
against freedom arid independence to violate his
sacred duty ? Suppose it to be the case of his (Mr.
Wilde's) poor old friend Bell, now sinking with age,
and scarcely having life enough remaining to give
utterance to his wrong, what would be his condition
if he yielded to such tampering ? The Judges of Eng-
land would tell his Grace what their sense would be
of the relative guilt of the two parties ; they had
already recorded it in the judgments which they
were wont to pass when the rich ar►d the poor man
were brought as culprits to be sentenced for bribery,
and when they made the former the signal victim.
When his Grace talked of interference, he would
ask him, who wanted to interfere with his freedom
or his rights ? All the people wanted was that be
should not unduly and unjustly controul their rights
of voting. His Grace stood high in the commu-
nity, and had rights and privileges enough to com-
mand, but if he felt himself above the reach of the

aw, he was at least not beyond the operation of
public opinion ; there he had a tribunal before which,
high as he was, he must plead. When his Grace
talked of claiming for himself what he willingly con-
ceded to others, he talked empty words, and more
particularly when he reminded them of what he
called his inherent rights of property. He had, to
be sure, like every other man, the tight to use his
own property, butt as had been well said, he had
no right to abuse it ; he had no right, under the
pretence of the administration of his property, to
barter the consciences of poorer men.—(Hear, hear.)
—Why, Mr. Sadler himself had denounced such
conduct, and put his sentiments upon it, on record,
in his book upon Ireland, where, in page 117, they
would find this remarkable passage t—F‘ So far it
will be said the owners of land have a perfect right
to do what they will with their own." Now, unless
Mr. Sadler gave his Grace an abridgment of the
work, the Dake must have read this passage,," This
is a notion," says Mr. Sadler, " which I will not
page to diyrcuss, for it has probably been the apo-
logy for more cruelty and oppression than all the
others which ever existed!? This strong language
was applied to the ejectment of the poor Irish
tenantry, perhaps the Duke of Newcastle did not
think it applied to his tenants in Newark.
surely, if the people could call any thing their
own,' it ougiit to be their consciences; and it
was of these that his Grace determined to be-
reave them, when he thought proper to set 'up
Members of Parliament. The Duke said, " Whilst
the laws of England exist and arc respected, I shall
permit no clamour, nor threats, nor even force itself,
to deter me from doing as I may think fit with my
own property." NiThat could his Grace have been
thinking of when he penned this passage ? Did he
not know that a law existed, agalosp the very
conduct he was pursuing ? Did he not 1;now that
the 14:4; o.otiticcd corrupt interference at elections?
Did he not know (oat thel.aw denounced as penal the
attempt to bribe honest men for their votes at
Goa:. $o that, from the beginning to the end,
the Duke seemed to misunderstand and misinterpret
the force and cogency of legal obligations. In
another part his Grace said, " My advice to those
who deceive themselves with the notion that they
are acting as becomes free-born Englishmen? is to

maintain the well-balanced scale of even-handed
justice." Why did not the Duke act up to his
wholesome advice himself ? Why talk of even-
handedjastice, when the will was to be all on one
side,—when the only alternative held out to the
tenant was, " vote for my man, or else walk out of
my tenement ?" And this he called the scale of
even-handed justice He was afraid that it would
be impossible to put his Grace's phrase into any
scale iu which it would not kick the beam at the
first attempt to balance it. Indeed, the Duke of
Newcastle's letter, in some respects, resembled his
friend Mr. Sadler's speeches. There was a great
deal said, but nothing proved. He remembered
the story of the man at the Borough election,
whose hint for speaking was confined to three words
—viz., slavery, liberty, and chains.--(A laugh.)—
Now his Grace's vocabulary was genuine freedom,
constitutional rights, cause of freedom and independ-
ence. Indeed, the Duke appeared to have borrowed
the fag-end of one of Mr. Sadler's finely rounded sen-
tences; but the error was, that what he called his
constitutional right was the power to do that which
was constitutionally wrong. His use of the rights
of property was the abuse of them, to the cruel in-
jury of those who were thought to be in his power,
and in contravention of all the principles of justice.
His Grace further on said, in conclusion, " I must
remind those of the inhabitants of Newark who
suffer themselves to be led to suppose that they have
cause of complaint against me, that neither I nor my
ancestors have ever been oppressive or tyrannical
landlords. The very reverse is the well-known fact.
In us the town of Newark has on all occasions found
ready:and prominent benefactors ; by us the deserv-
ing poor and needy have always been regarded with
steady kindness and consideration, and not to suit
the mere purposes of the day." What did all this
mean ? Where did his Grace acquire the power
of lecturing the people of Newark upon the duties
imposed by his benevolence ? Where and when
had they sold to him their birth-right for a mess
of pottage ?—(" Of soup," cried a voice in the
crowd.)—Well, then, be it of soup.—(A laugh.)—
As to the great benefits conferred by his Grace arid
his ancestors, they had the singular fortune of not
being remembered by any body ; perhaps these be-
nefactions had come among them like angels' visits—
" few arid far between." But were they known
instead of being unknown, was gratitude for favours
to consist in a devotion which compromised honour
arid conscience ?—(Cries of " No.")—What im-
provement had he achieved for their town ? Where
were the monuments of his family's munificence ?
Who of the deserving had he protected—of the
needy had he succoured ?—(Cries of " None.")--
" Why," exclaimed an old man, he robbed my
eldest son."—(A loud laugh.)—He had dis-
covered no record of his Grace's bounty, be-
yond the miserable pittance of the 20/. in the soup
subscription—the oldest inhabitant remembered no-
thing else. All that he had been made able to learn
of his Grace's bountiful intention to the borough
was, that at certain periodical visits he took upon
himself the charge of nominating Members of Par-
liament for them. The English of this letter was—
" 1 am the constant friend of your borough : you
are to take my word for all this, and riot to trouble
your consciences about the mode in which I shall
call upon you to use your, or rather my, elective
franchise.' Now how stood the Duke of New-
castle's claim to compel them to vote as he pleased
—to prostitute their consciences, and to punish the
recusants because they were better than himself ?
He claimed the right of influence, but of what de-
scription of influence ? Not that which justly arose
from the beneficial application of his property,—not
that which gratitude freely gave in return for bene-
fits—(although he doubted whether even gratitude
ought to extend to such a weight of onerous obli-
gation),—but a wholesale dominion of conscience
over those who held tenements under him, in de-
fiance, of reason, law, and justice. He feared, in-
deed, that there had often been much of corruption
at elections. This lie knew had been to a certain
degree tolerated—but never to the extent now
claimed by the Duke of Newcastle.—(Hear, hear.)
—This could riot be endured, unless corruption,
from the frequency of its occurrence, had lost its
impurity of character. The fact was, that in some
sense even vice lost:some of:its repulsive character,
seeing it too often rendered it too familiar, as the
poet said—
" Yet seen ten oft—familiar with her face,
" You first endure, then pity, then embrace."
The Learned Serjeant here produced a large bundle
of notices of ejectment, received by those of the in-
habitants who had voted against the Duke's no-
minee at the last election, and condemned in the
strongest terms this perversion of the rights of pro-
perty. If this were to continue, the Duke might
indeed people his tenements with his voters, but from
them all sense of conscience should be fled. Indeed
he should like to see the placard fOr the next letting
of this part of his Grace's property. If properly
composed it should run thus, " A number of houses
to let in the borough of Newark, to tenants who
will vote us the landlord commands, and not trouble
themselves upon points of conscience : rent not to
be paid in money, but in corruption."—(A laugh.)
—This was, however, a serious evil; it had imposed
a squandering and expensive system of patronage
upon the Government, which the people had them.
selves in the end to pay. The borough patron in
return for his members compelled the Ministers of
the day to provide for his dependents out of the
public stock. The day, however, for such scanda-
lous bargains was fast passing away, and in this re-
spect parliamentary reform had, perhaps, begun at
the best end. Times had changed a little, and the
Minister had not wherewithal to pay. When the
money ceased to flow in these heartless arid profli-
gate bargains, bribery and corruption would, in the
same proportion dwindle away. The family of the
Duke of Newcastle were long known as the sup-
porters of successive Governments, and had, doubt-
less, been repaid with the good things which Minis-
ters had to confer; but the day of these bargains
was on the wane, arid the people had at least hope
for their consolation. The more immediate ques-
tion, however, was, what was to be done in the pre-
sent juncture of their affairs ? In point of law, it
was extremely difficult to restrain men in the disposi-
tion of their property, because sometimes the cunning
and craft of the man concealed the true grounds of his
actions. Thus, when a poor woman complained to
his Grace's agent—" Sir, my husband has got no-
tice to quit ; he always paid his rent punctually, but
I am afraid this is done because at the last election
he voted blue." " I know he has had the notice,"
replied Mr. Tallents, " but, mind, I don't talk of
reds or blues, we want and must have these houses
for our friends." This was the way in which these
matters were transacted, so that there was the
greatest difficulty in bringing the matter home to
the individual, so as to implicate him legally; he
would, hos.vever, take care to have each case sepa-
rately examined, and where the real motive could be
traced, to have it fairly put to the test of a trial.--
(Clreers.)-,-If this should, however, in its details,
prove to be a deed of darkness,—if the motives
should be effectually concealed, and flagrant proof of
their detection be found impossible,--let them, at
all events, go before Parliament with their complaint,
(Applause.)--,_Let them petition and specify all the
facts to the House of Commons, setting nothing
down in malice, nor extenuating aught. It will then
be seen if the House of Commons could afford them
any protection. At all events, good muse arise from
the general agitation of their grievance ;—it would
be borne on the wings of the press, and "public opi-
nion would operate upon the mind of the Duke of
Newcastle, and make him rue the day he oppressed
his tepents ip Newark ; if the leo, could net be
evoked for their protection, et least they would he
sure of public sympathy, and the instruments of this
wrong would receive their just reward. Here the
Learned Serjeant went into a detail of many of the
proceedings of the late election, the asser'tion's of Mr.
Sadler th 4 it was to be a fair-fought battle between
the reds arid the blues,aral Mr.Tallenes silence when
he was called upon to withdrew the Duke's ban
from the refractory electors. The effects of his grace's
displeasure had convened the present rneetitl

he must remark, that it was not alone the blues
who had been wronged, the reds were likewise
insulted.—( Hear, hear.)—Were there no honest
reds who scorned the trammels of corrupt influence?
Were the reds, too, to be plainly told that they
must vote as they were commanded, or else turn out
from their homes ? Such conduct was equally un-
fair to them, among whom he knew there were many
honourable and well-meaning men. The stigma it
cast was universal, and tainted alike every man in
the borough. No man henceforth could be a tenant.
of the Duke of Newcastle who dared to have a will
of his own. They must qualify for his houses, by a
sacrifice of their independence. It was once said to
an applicant for admission into a female asylum for
particular subjects, " Have you been vicious ?" The
girl replied in the negative; and was then told to go
and sin, as a preliminary qualification to render her
admissable.—(A laugh.)—So would it be in the bo-
rough of Newark,—the qualification of the tenants
would be the sacrifice of their civil rights. In this
sense the reds ought to come forward and fight the
battle conjointly with the blues; their cause was
common, and involved their characters respectively.
It had been said that the influence he had the honour
of having among them had been acquired by bribery;
and a good honest man in a London newspaper had
said, that of all the shameful and scandalous systems
of bribery ever carried on, nothing was to be com-
pared to Mr. Serjeant Wilde's at Newark.—(A
laugh.)—That it beat hollow the Grampound break-
fasts and the Ilchester horse-raddish. " Oh," said
he, " there was actually a bill stuck up in the town,
headed, Dr. IVilde's sovereign remedy.' " The fact
was, some wag had imposed upon the London editor
a quack doctor's bill, which happened to be placarded
in the town at the time of the election, and ascribed it
to him. Indeed he could have wished he had had it in
his power to furnish them with a sovereign remedy.
Until he could find one, however, he hoped to pre-
pare a dose for the Duke of Newcastle, which, with
such good nurses as the electors of Newark, would,
he hoped, soon abate the disorder.—( A laugh.)—
Here the Learned Serjeant, in the most energetic
manner, declared that he had neither directly nor
indirectly given a bribe to a single individual, and he
pledged himself solemnly that he never would. He
had, he avowed, the ambition to get into Parliament;
but if he could not get a seat by fair means he
scorned to obtain one by foul. Indeed he had heard
that the ordinary and necessary legal expences of
the election had been paid for him out of the
Treasury.—(A laugh.)—He must say, in reply to
this assertion, that he did not find that to be the
case at his banker's. He concluded by a reitera-
tion of the principal topics of his speech, and by an
assurance of bissteadfast attachment to t he persecuted
electors of Newark. Wherever he found oppression,
there should he present resistance; but it would be,
as he knew theirs would, a legal and just opposition
—one bounded by the law and sanctioned by its
principles.—(Loud cheers.)
On the motion of Mr. JOHN HAGE, seconded by
Mr. GILSON, a committee was then formed to orga-
nize the proper resistance to the proceedings of the
Duke of Newcastle ; and thanks were afterwards
voted to the Chairman.

Mr. Serjeant WILDE again came forward, and said
that some objections had been made to his paying a
visit to Newark, lest his calling upon the electors
should have any tendency to withdraw them from
their usual occupations. He could not concur in
this opinion ; he should therefore stay to pay his
respects to as many of them as he could for a few
days ; and at the same time he need not add what
confidence he placed in their sense of the propriety
of attending to their own specific duties, and main-
taining their just cause by every demonstration of
their reliance on the laws and constitution of their
country for their vindication from oppression.
The meeting then separated with loud cheers.

THE DINNER.

At six o'clock the company sat down to an ex-
cellent dinner at the Castle and Falcon Tavern.
After the cloth was removed, the Chairman (Mr.
BRISTOWE) gave " The King," four times four—
then " The Army and Navy,"—" The People, the
true source of legitimate Power,"—" His Majesty's
Ministers,"—" The Town and Trade of Newark."
The CIIAIRMANnext proposed " The health of Mr.
Serjeant Wilde," which was drunk with loud ap-
plause, and four times four.
Mr. Serjeant WILDE, in returning thanks, ex-
pressed the warm sense which he entertained of
these compliments. He referred to their former
proceedings, and complained, in indignant terms, of
the mariner in which the Duke of Newcastle had
behaved to the independent electors of Newark.—
He knew no writer upon the Constitution who did
not hold that its safety depended upon the freedom
of elections. The influence of property they all
understood, but it was the tyranny of property
against which they contended—(Hear, hear)—that
arbitrary power avowed by the Duke of Newcastle,
arid which was to suppress all freedom of action.--
But he had heard that the Duke had only done
what other Peers were in the habit of enforcing.—
This, he believed, was not the fact; here and there
might be found splenetic examples of the of
landlords', and instances of vexatious oppression
arising out of them, but there never had been be-
fore such a wholesale proscription as this, such a
crowd of ejectments. There were, he believed,
many Noblemen, who, though they would use their
influence at elections, would blush to treat their te•
trams as those et Newark had been used. But
even if men could be found acting like the Duke of
Newcastle, whet palliation could be drawn from the
repetition of such offences ?—( Hear, hear.)—But to
what did these acts tend ? They had been told by
art eminent writer, that if they had a Constitution
sound in the main complexion, they must look not in
the glass to find freckles in its skin. But what they
complained of were not slight deformities—they
were attacked in their dearest rights. The constitu-
tional appeal to the people for the exercise of their
elective franchise was rendered a mockery, and by
the very Peer who had himself on a late occasion
plied loudly upon the Government to make such an
appeal, in the hope of preventing the passing of a
particular Act of Parliament.—(Hear, hear.)—Such
was the consistency of those who merely worshipped
their own interests. No man had less ground of
complaint against the people for voting for an ad-
ministration than the Duke of Newcastle, who had
been always voting for Ministers, although now such
votes appeared to him to-be-a crime only to be ex-
piated by a relentless proscription. The Duke was
likewise as odd in his attachments as in his antipa-
thies, for this very Mr. Sadler had indulged in
wholesale anathemas against the policy which his
Grace now affected to support. To be sure it was
not always easy to catch tire commoner's meaning.
He had, however, one advantage, if it could be called
one---whatever he said found its way into print.
(Somebody here said, "Because he always reports
his own speeches.") That was sometimes a dan-
gerous circumstance for a senator, for it might bind
him inconveniently close to certain opinions; in ar-
gument, however, it was difficult to grapple with
Mr. Sadler, for lie assumed so many propositions to
be true, and dealt so roundly in strong assertions.
When he (Mr. Serjeant Wilde) challenged him on
the hustings to discuss the Catholic question, Mr.
Sadler replied, that he would reserve his argument
for another place; lie had since delivered himself of
it in the !louse of Commons, and certainly,
for !florid construction of sentences, and utter ab-
scence of argument, lie never read a speech of equal
length so strikingly remarkable.---(Hear, hear.),
Mr. Sadler was somewhat of a P"4011g opponent ;
he would not argue on the hustings, but reserved
himself, after due preparation, for snug dinner
parties at Newark and Whitby, where none were
present but his own coterie, and where he triumphed
because he had no opponent? - (A laugh.) Why
was he absent from Newark on the present occa-
sion ?. The invitation had been safely transmitted
to him, even if the newspapers had nut reached
him ; his nephew was here last night how, then,
was his absence to by accounted for 2 He surely
was not Afraid to meet his opponents in fair arid
open argument ? Had he attended, they should