DOI issue:
July to December, 1852
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16610#0271
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI 263
EXCHANGE—A KOBBERY
IGHT exceLIent Punch,
As one of a bunch
Of unlucky victims who've reason
to groan
A VERY SOLEMN QUESTION.
" What have I done ? "
This is a tremendous query: a question besetting every man, woman,
and child, at almost every step and turn of life. " What have I done ? "
What a question for a man to put to himself, wakeful and restless, in
O'er that vile imposition, the Otto- j the solitude of midnight sheets!
man Loan, jjast week, the Earl of Derby—his system gently stimulated b;
Oh, let me appeal \ the Loud Mayor's roast and boiled—last week, the Earl op Derbi
To your wisdom and zeal, 1 asked this question of all the world; yes of all the world : for gentle-
To give the disgrace of this horrible men of the press were there who would cause the query of the noble
case ^ ^ _[ and chivalrous Earl to reverberate round about the world; and who
was satisfactorily to make answer to it ?
The noble Earl, for the second time, touched upon the moral dignity
of the masses at the Duke's funeral. The innocent, unsophisticated—
we do not like to say, ignorant—Earl knew, it seems, so little of the
people of England—(of the few millions who pay taxes, and drink beer
when they can get it, and smoke coarse tobacco, and crack one an-
other's skulls at quarter-staff, and bait bulls and draw badgers, and shy
down Shrovetide cocks, and drown witches, and so forth, even as at
the time of the early Stanleys)—the Earl, it seems, knew so
little of the rude and savage people, that, when he left his house
on the 18th of November, it muxt have been to him as though
he was departing upon a very serious foreign discovery. As he
passed through Temple Bar he must have become a little re-assured.
But about Charing Cross and entering the Strand, he must have
expected that the people—the mob—the hoggish multitude—would
have received the car with "hurrahs," and catcalls. That only for
the soldier?, they would precipitate themselves upon the mourning
coaches, stripping them of their velvet draperies and escutcheons. No
Mungo Park, no Captain Cook couhi ever have been more surprised
and delighted at the pacific demeanour of savages whom the travellers
expected to find cannibals: and lo ! they were not men-eaters, but
yam-eaters! Even so was it with the masses—the walls of men and
women—that skirted the streets; and stood like patience in a gutter
on the memorable 18th. The Earl of Derby's head shrunk in its
coronet, like a mouldy nut in its shell, in self-reproach. Hear, however,
what—full of bashfulness and a little turtle, of humility and a drop of
champagne—hear the Earl of Derby discourse concerning the people
on that day.'
" It is with feelings of self-humiliation that I ask myself, ' What
have I done that I should hold so high a place among such a people P '"
" What have I done for my place ?" asks Derby.
" What have / done ? " inquires Disraeli.
" What have I done ? " the while covered with blushes, stammers
Malmsbury.
Let the Earl of Derby take good heart—he has done a good deal.
Men " do not <did not) hold so high a place among such a people"
—even when men were exalted above the mob in the pillory—without
doing a good deal for it. Now, it is a hard truth—but, to some states-
men, what is place but the pillory ? True it is that so exalted, they
may for the present have nothing but the sweets of salary and office
showered upon them ; but time presses, and hard-hearted history will
spare nor. her ancient eggs. But what has Derby done to stand so
high ? Why, for more than six years he talked and voted black, that,
Political Horsemanship. at the seventh, he might accept the black for white. It is chivalrous
The Times the other day commended Mr. Disraeli for the clever 5£jL£ d6Str°y 0pp0nent' 0nly *° p0S9eSS and fight ^ hU
way in which he had been "riding the country party" lately. We (lv> i . , t , n„ ■ •»« t-. tttl j
think the word "riding" is significantly chosen, seeing how obviously v ^ut ^hat b,av.e 1 d.one , ask* M,K- Disramj. Why, wonders
In the eyes of the public a promi-
nent place.
The Prince Callimaki
Smok'd pipes of Lataki,
And gave us his highly respectable
name
As surety to warrant the rights of
the claim.
Good Monsieur Couturier,
Ready to worry ye,
Swears by his whiskers—and who can gainsay it ?—
The Loan is a good one, and Turkey must pay it.
And Becket de Thomas
Who took the tin from us,
With Messrs. Devaux and the rest of the Co.,
Are still of opinion it's certainly so.
But Pasha the Veley,
Whose mouth is so mealy,
Has gammon'd unbusinesslike Government folk,
Till Malmesb'rt believes that the Loan was a joke,
And tells Mr. Capel
In answer quite Papal,
" The Sultan's all right, and the claimant's all wrong,
A Minister's word isn't worth an old Song."
While such things are doing,
And working our ruin;
No wonder that others like Mr. Guedalla,
Cry, " Sons of Mahomet ! disciples of Allah
This repudiation
Unworthy the nation,
Though, perhaps, for the present it gives you relief,
Will certainly bring you to ultimate grief.
To be done by a Turk
Is a new kind of work,
Which, not being expected, was good for the nonce,
But don't you suppose it will pay more than once.
Though your Bank may be saved
By the way you've behaved,
Your coffers replenished with ill-gotten gain—
Your fame and your credit no longer remain '."
Change Alley. I. M. Dunn Brown.
the Right Honourable Jockey has been studying throughout to keep
his seat.
the cuban question and answer.
You have jumped from the attorney's stool—(and a noble jump too, if
taken with a strong heart and a high object)—right upon the shoulders
of the aristocracy. You are to an Earl, what Jocko who has seen the
world is to the dromedary Jocko is perched upon. Your tricks are
numberless. You can crack epigrams like nuts, and fling the shells in
Much agitation prevails in Cuba; where everybody is anxiously the eyes of the folks surrounding. You can jabber about guns and
asking what next? To this, the cool reply on the part of brother soldiers, and marines and mortars, as much at liome with them as any
Jonathan is, Au-nexed, of course. monkey, born and dwelling oq the Rock of Gibraltar—but then, you
must first empty a Frenchman's ink-horn into your stomach, like a dry
pump, needing something to be poured in ere you begin to spout.
"What have I done? "asks the Chancellor of the Exchequer
ATTTrrvraa. tn n,eqkire Mf„D„no f„ yha TvniiKo fi,» And now aU true men of pen-and-ink would have rejoiced to clap their
IfaSSm- ' reference t0 the Ml^Mhe Liverpool handS) and cry " Bravely, my beautiful-my Ben ! "
u„, M ... t. . x. „ , . ^, "What have I done?" cries Malmsbury. Well, you have made
*J&^^Z2^TRw*™*^mm™^' * first-rate bow to the Emperor of Austria. If John Bull had
The young blood of Cheshire seems rather of a milky nature, as it
requires so much pressing to render it anything like the cheese.
A Grin for Cheshire Cats.
Bitters.
What makes bitter beer more bitter ?—asks Punch.
The Chancellor of the Exchequer, an authority on the subject,
makes answer and says —"Bitter small bottles." And smitten with
the truth of this, Punch's cry is—" Not men, but measures "
been a dancing-master, you could not have bowed longer and lower.
You have swallowed Tuscan tyranny as though Tuscan tyranny had
been Neapolitan macaroni. You have showered roses of speech upon
Napoleon the Third and Burglar the Great; as though the
aforesaid Nap. the III. and B. the G. had been the Imperial Beauty of
the time, instead of that other thing with which in fairy tale at this
writing—(was there ever such a Land of Flam as Prance ?)—the Beauty
is companioned. With Malmsbury for Eoreign Minister, John Bull
has grimaced and shrugged like a Erench dancing-master—and Bri-
tannia talked slip-slop to tyrants like any waiting-maid.
EXCHANGE—A KOBBERY
IGHT exceLIent Punch,
As one of a bunch
Of unlucky victims who've reason
to groan
A VERY SOLEMN QUESTION.
" What have I done ? "
This is a tremendous query: a question besetting every man, woman,
and child, at almost every step and turn of life. " What have I done ? "
What a question for a man to put to himself, wakeful and restless, in
O'er that vile imposition, the Otto- j the solitude of midnight sheets!
man Loan, jjast week, the Earl of Derby—his system gently stimulated b;
Oh, let me appeal \ the Loud Mayor's roast and boiled—last week, the Earl op Derbi
To your wisdom and zeal, 1 asked this question of all the world; yes of all the world : for gentle-
To give the disgrace of this horrible men of the press were there who would cause the query of the noble
case ^ ^ _[ and chivalrous Earl to reverberate round about the world; and who
was satisfactorily to make answer to it ?
The noble Earl, for the second time, touched upon the moral dignity
of the masses at the Duke's funeral. The innocent, unsophisticated—
we do not like to say, ignorant—Earl knew, it seems, so little of the
people of England—(of the few millions who pay taxes, and drink beer
when they can get it, and smoke coarse tobacco, and crack one an-
other's skulls at quarter-staff, and bait bulls and draw badgers, and shy
down Shrovetide cocks, and drown witches, and so forth, even as at
the time of the early Stanleys)—the Earl, it seems, knew so
little of the rude and savage people, that, when he left his house
on the 18th of November, it muxt have been to him as though
he was departing upon a very serious foreign discovery. As he
passed through Temple Bar he must have become a little re-assured.
But about Charing Cross and entering the Strand, he must have
expected that the people—the mob—the hoggish multitude—would
have received the car with "hurrahs," and catcalls. That only for
the soldier?, they would precipitate themselves upon the mourning
coaches, stripping them of their velvet draperies and escutcheons. No
Mungo Park, no Captain Cook couhi ever have been more surprised
and delighted at the pacific demeanour of savages whom the travellers
expected to find cannibals: and lo ! they were not men-eaters, but
yam-eaters! Even so was it with the masses—the walls of men and
women—that skirted the streets; and stood like patience in a gutter
on the memorable 18th. The Earl of Derby's head shrunk in its
coronet, like a mouldy nut in its shell, in self-reproach. Hear, however,
what—full of bashfulness and a little turtle, of humility and a drop of
champagne—hear the Earl of Derby discourse concerning the people
on that day.'
" It is with feelings of self-humiliation that I ask myself, ' What
have I done that I should hold so high a place among such a people P '"
" What have I done for my place ?" asks Derby.
" What have / done ? " inquires Disraeli.
" What have I done ? " the while covered with blushes, stammers
Malmsbury.
Let the Earl of Derby take good heart—he has done a good deal.
Men " do not <did not) hold so high a place among such a people"
—even when men were exalted above the mob in the pillory—without
doing a good deal for it. Now, it is a hard truth—but, to some states-
men, what is place but the pillory ? True it is that so exalted, they
may for the present have nothing but the sweets of salary and office
showered upon them ; but time presses, and hard-hearted history will
spare nor. her ancient eggs. But what has Derby done to stand so
high ? Why, for more than six years he talked and voted black, that,
Political Horsemanship. at the seventh, he might accept the black for white. It is chivalrous
The Times the other day commended Mr. Disraeli for the clever 5£jL£ d6Str°y 0pp0nent' 0nly *° p0S9eSS and fight ^ hU
way in which he had been "riding the country party" lately. We (lv> i . , t , n„ ■ •»« t-. tttl j
think the word "riding" is significantly chosen, seeing how obviously v ^ut ^hat b,av.e 1 d.one , ask* M,K- Disramj. Why, wonders
In the eyes of the public a promi-
nent place.
The Prince Callimaki
Smok'd pipes of Lataki,
And gave us his highly respectable
name
As surety to warrant the rights of
the claim.
Good Monsieur Couturier,
Ready to worry ye,
Swears by his whiskers—and who can gainsay it ?—
The Loan is a good one, and Turkey must pay it.
And Becket de Thomas
Who took the tin from us,
With Messrs. Devaux and the rest of the Co.,
Are still of opinion it's certainly so.
But Pasha the Veley,
Whose mouth is so mealy,
Has gammon'd unbusinesslike Government folk,
Till Malmesb'rt believes that the Loan was a joke,
And tells Mr. Capel
In answer quite Papal,
" The Sultan's all right, and the claimant's all wrong,
A Minister's word isn't worth an old Song."
While such things are doing,
And working our ruin;
No wonder that others like Mr. Guedalla,
Cry, " Sons of Mahomet ! disciples of Allah
This repudiation
Unworthy the nation,
Though, perhaps, for the present it gives you relief,
Will certainly bring you to ultimate grief.
To be done by a Turk
Is a new kind of work,
Which, not being expected, was good for the nonce,
But don't you suppose it will pay more than once.
Though your Bank may be saved
By the way you've behaved,
Your coffers replenished with ill-gotten gain—
Your fame and your credit no longer remain '."
Change Alley. I. M. Dunn Brown.
the Right Honourable Jockey has been studying throughout to keep
his seat.
the cuban question and answer.
You have jumped from the attorney's stool—(and a noble jump too, if
taken with a strong heart and a high object)—right upon the shoulders
of the aristocracy. You are to an Earl, what Jocko who has seen the
world is to the dromedary Jocko is perched upon. Your tricks are
numberless. You can crack epigrams like nuts, and fling the shells in
Much agitation prevails in Cuba; where everybody is anxiously the eyes of the folks surrounding. You can jabber about guns and
asking what next? To this, the cool reply on the part of brother soldiers, and marines and mortars, as much at liome with them as any
Jonathan is, Au-nexed, of course. monkey, born and dwelling oq the Rock of Gibraltar—but then, you
must first empty a Frenchman's ink-horn into your stomach, like a dry
pump, needing something to be poured in ere you begin to spout.
"What have I done? "asks the Chancellor of the Exchequer
ATTTrrvraa. tn n,eqkire Mf„D„no f„ yha TvniiKo fi,» And now aU true men of pen-and-ink would have rejoiced to clap their
IfaSSm- ' reference t0 the Ml^Mhe Liverpool handS) and cry " Bravely, my beautiful-my Ben ! "
u„, M ... t. . x. „ , . ^, "What have I done?" cries Malmsbury. Well, you have made
*J&^^Z2^TRw*™*^mm™^' * first-rate bow to the Emperor of Austria. If John Bull had
The young blood of Cheshire seems rather of a milky nature, as it
requires so much pressing to render it anything like the cheese.
A Grin for Cheshire Cats.
Bitters.
What makes bitter beer more bitter ?—asks Punch.
The Chancellor of the Exchequer, an authority on the subject,
makes answer and says —"Bitter small bottles." And smitten with
the truth of this, Punch's cry is—" Not men, but measures "
been a dancing-master, you could not have bowed longer and lower.
You have swallowed Tuscan tyranny as though Tuscan tyranny had
been Neapolitan macaroni. You have showered roses of speech upon
Napoleon the Third and Burglar the Great; as though the
aforesaid Nap. the III. and B. the G. had been the Imperial Beauty of
the time, instead of that other thing with which in fairy tale at this
writing—(was there ever such a Land of Flam as Prance ?)—the Beauty
is companioned. With Malmsbury for Eoreign Minister, John Bull
has grimaced and shrugged like a Erench dancing-master—and Bri-
tannia talked slip-slop to tyrants like any waiting-maid.