a new work, “The Art of Political Painting, extracted from the works of the most celebrated Jacobin professors.” The Shakespeare Tavern, celebrated as the head-quarters of the Whig party during Fox’s candidature for Westminster, was the scene of a popular ovation on the twentieth anniversary of the Whig chief’s election for that important constituency; the event was celebrated by a public dinner, October 10, 1800. Fox had so long absented himself from Parliament, feeling, as he declared, “his time of action was over when those principles were extinguished on which he acted,” that his reappearance excited the greatest enthusiasm amongst his partisans, who were anxious both to hear his sentiments on the political outlook, and to demonstrate their unabated attachment to the “Man of the People,” who preferred to seclude himself from public business and from the platform of his most brilliant oratorical triumphs, that he “might steadily adhere to those principles which had guided his past conduct.” Every room in the house was filled with company. In replying to the cordial reception of his health, Fox reminded his auditors that “During the twenty years I have represented you in Parliament I have adhered to the principles on which the Revolution of 1688 was founded, and what have been known as the old Whig principles of England;” and recalled that his first connection with his constituents occurred “during the calamitous war with America;” he then alluded to his absence from Parliament, extended to three years, and thus eloquently concluded: “I shall ever maintain that the basis of all parties is justice--that the basis of all constitutions is the sovereignty of the people--that from the people alone kings, parliaments, judges, and magistrates derive their authority.” Gillray has embodied this situation in his pictorial version of this most enthusiastic reception, ungenerously representing Fox as “The Worn-out Patriot; or, the Last Dying Speech of the Westminster Representative,” October 10, 1800. The great statesman is depicted as both mentally and physically in a state of decadence; Erskine is sustaining him with a bottle of brandy to stimulate his strength artificially, while Harvey Combe, in his robes as Lord Mayor, is lending his substantial support; a measure of Whitbread’s “entire” is also ready for the emergency. Among the guests are figured Sir J. Sinclair, and the gifted member for Southwark, Tierney. The speech the satirist has sarcastically introduced is a parody on that delivered by the Whig chief to the electors on the occasion:--