Had the sixteenth century a Hogarth who wished to capture the spirit of an election contest, he could not have done better than to have been with pen and ink in York Castle yard on October 3, 1597. On the left-hand side of his sketch might have been the dominating castle, cut away at the bottom to reveal the archbishop of York and Sir John Saville in earnest conversation, Saville's face implacable, the archbishop's concerned. Near the top of the castle wall, at a window overlooking the yard, crowd the undersheriff and ten “indifferent gentlemen” all gazing at the scene below. The foreground would be occupied by a great swell of men, open-mouthed, some with arms upraised, crying out, “A Saville! A Fairfax!”; and others, “A Stanhope! A Hoby!” At the midground, and rising to the upper limits of the yard, intermingled with horses, dogs, porters carrying wares, and women with children at their skirts, are even larger groups of men, indistinguishable from those at the bottom but less animated. They are divided, one portion against the castle wall, the other, somewhat more numerous and amid greater numbers of onlookers and passers-by, on the hilly rise nearer the outer gate. On the right-hand side, out of proportion and as dominant as the castle on the left, the scene swells to the courtyard gate. There stand the undersheriff and a smaller number of the indifferent gentlemen, their poses and countenances now markedly agitated and in their hands sticks with knives poised over them.