In the eighteenth century mock elections were held around England, often to coincide with parliamentary or local elections. Communities would gather for these raucous carnivals of music, dancing and drinking, and listen to candidates making speeches full of extravagant promises and improbable declarations. Proceedings imitated and parodied aspects of the real English political process, and while the elected mayor had no status or civic responsibilities the event allowed those with no vote to feel like they had a temporary voice. Mock elections could be found in Lancashire, Yorkshire, Worcestershire, Cornwall, and Devon, but none of these had the longevity or prominence of the Garratt elections.[1]
Held throughout the century in the tiny hamlet of Garratt between modern day Wandsworth and Tooting, the Leather Bottle public house was at the centre of these elections. One theory is that the event started after a group of watermen pooled resources to hire an attorney and mount a legal challenge against enclosure of local commons. The challenge was successful and, since it happened in an election year, was commemorated thereafter in a mock election held around the same time as Westminster proceedings. Samuel Foote’s 1764 farce, The Mayor of Garret, spread the fame of the event which, by the 1780s, was attracting ‘upwards of 50,000 people’.[2] The mayoral procession would gather in Southwark before heading the seven or so miles to Wandsworth, its popularity causing local traffic chaos:
…on several occasions, a hundred thousand persons, half of them in carts, in hackney-coaches, and on horse and ass-back, covered the various roads from London…that the road within a mile of Wandsworth was so blocked up by vehicles that none could move backward or forward during many hours.[3]
In 1785, the lexicographer Francis Grose described the Garratt election as ‘a ludicrous ceremony practiced every new parliament…(and)…the qualification of voter is having enjoyed a woman in the open air within that district’, adding they ‘are fellows of low humour, who dress themselves up in a ridiculous manner’.[4] Candidates had to come from humble backgrounds; a gravedigger, a retailer of brick dust, and a bill-sticker were amongst those who ran. For their brief moment of fame colourful aliases were often adopted, including Lord Twankum, Squire Blowmedown, and Sir George Comefirst. To add to the absurdity of the event, candidates were sworn in on a brickbat, rather than the customary bible, before presenting outlandish manifestos to the crowd.
Occasionally, mock election and real politics merged, as can be seen with the most celebrated mayor of Garratt, Jeffrey Dunstan. Dunstan was a poor second-hand wig seller with multiple physical disabilities, whose success in consecutive Garratt elections between 1785 and 1796 made him a well-known figure in London life. Dunstan’s image was used widely in print, on trade tokens, and inn signs; much of his fame can be attributed to his physical form and poor apparel, instantly recognisable and therefore a gift to satirists who could use this to convey a particular message in political cartoons. The British Museum has many prints of Dunstan, typically shown in characteristic stance, his body used to portray a symbol of disorder or to caricature the archetypal plebian politician.[5]
J. Wilkes, Sir Jeffry Dunstan, Mayor of Garret & c., © The Trustees of the British Museum
Dunstan was also famous for his quick wit and courage in public speaking, delivering speeches that were interspersed with references parodying Westminster and the ruling elite - something that may have contributed to his imprisonment for sedition in 1793.[6] Dunstan’s popularity did not survive the prison sentence, and in 1796 he was replaced by Sir Henry (Harry) Dimsdale, also disabled and poor, and a Soho street seller of muffins. Dimsdale was the last mayor of Garratt, as by the 1790s the popularity of the elections was waning, likely connected to a combination of domestic and international political events, a fear by English patricians of revolution and organised movements of lower orders working men, and a growing emphasis on political education, polite society self-discipline and orderliness.[7] Hone recorded that after Dimsdale’s death, ‘the borough of Garrat has since remained vacant, and the populace have been without a professed political buffoon’.[8] An attempt in 1826 to revive the custom was unsuccessful.
Mock elections were rowdy and exuberant carnivals where the world was temporarily turned upside down. They allowed cathartic venting for a section of society otherwise silenced. Mayors had no designated power or status, but the election gave the disenfranchised a voice to mock the electoral process, encouraging a feeling of fleeting contribution to political conversation; in this sense, the mayor was a real, if temporary, representative of those who did not have a vote.[9] The Garratt election took this to a different level through a combination of personality and patronage; Samuel Foote’s successful West End farce propelled the event from small local village celebration to a road-clogging festival popular throughout the capital, drawing huge crowds and, in the case of the Dunstan era, becoming part of real political discourse. Dunstan was an extreme example of what a mock election could do, his legacy living on in a remarkable body of political cartoons, and, exceptionally for a street-seller, an entry in the prestigious Oxford Dictionary of National Biography.[10] The Leather Bottle pub, the site of this huge and important eighteenth-century event, still operates in present day Earlsfield and is a pleasant venue for a drink or two. Customers today may grumble at the noise from heavy traffic passing on nearby Garratt Lane, but how many would trade it for the cacophony and chaos that surrounded the pub during the Garratt elections two and a half centuries ago?
The Leather Bottle, SW18, scene of the Garratt elections. Photo (August 2024) © Alasdair McNeill.
Alasdair McNeill recently completed a BA in History and MA in Early Modern History at Birkbeck, University of London. In October 2024 he starts an MPhil/PhD research degree, also at Birkbeck, focussing on women in the early modern English cheese trade.
References and Resources:
John Brewer, ‘Theater and Counter-Theater in Georgian Politics: The Mock Elections at Garrat’, Radical History Review, Vol. 22 (1979-80).
Gentleman’s Magazine, Vol. 51, 25 July 1781, https://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=nyp.33433081674149&seq=371.
William Hone, The Every-day Book and Table Book, Volume 2, 1837, https://archive.org/details/bub_gb_yxH3Vm9FcsYC/page/n421/mode/2up?q=%22a+hundred+thousand%22.
Francis Grose, A Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue, 1785, https://archive.org/details/bim_eighteenth-century_a-classical-dictionary-o_grose-francis-f-a-s_1785/page/n91/mode/2up?q=garret>.
Hillary Burlock, Mock Elections, 2024, https://ecppec.ncl.ac.uk/features/mock-elections-the-political-participation-of-non-voters/>.
Barker, G.F.R, revised by Anita McConnell, Jeffrey Dunstan (2004), https://www.oxforddnb.com/display/10.1093/ref:odnb/9780198614128.001.0001/odnb-9780198614128-e-8289.
[1] John Brewer, ‘Theater and Counter-Theater in Georgian Politics: The Mock Elections at Garrat’, Radical History Review, Vol. 22 (1979-80).
[2] Gentleman’s Magazine, Vol. 51, 25 July 1781, 341.
[3] William Hone, The Every-day Book and Table Book, Volume 2, 1837.
[4] Francis Grose, A Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue, 1785.
[5] Brewer.
[6] Hone.
[7] Brewer.
[8] Hone.
[9] Hillary Burlock, Mock Elections.
[10] Anita McConnell, Jeffrey Dunstan (2004).
 | A guest post by
|
What an amazing story. There are early echoes here of those more politicised early 80s post-punk festivals which combined music and stand-up, empowering an audience almost subliminally through a sort of primitive satire. It’s also an interesting record of a community becoming increasingly conscious of their position as a underclass. Great writing! More of this please 🙏