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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI
263
EXCHANGE—A KOBBERY.
IGHT excellent Punch,
As one of a bunch
Of unlucky victims who've reason
to groan
O'er that vile imposition, the Otto-
man Loan,
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 uobusiness-like Government folk,
Till Malmesb'ri 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,
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
the solitude of midnight sheets!
Last week, the Earl of Derby—his system gently stimulated b;
Oh, let me appeal the Lord Mayor's roast and boiled—last week, the Earl op Derbi
To your wisdom and zeal, 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 murt 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 soldiery, they would precipitate themselves upon the mourning
coaches, stripping them of their velvet draperies and escutcheons. ISIo
Mungo Park, no Captain Cook could 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 ot
champagne—hear the Earl of Derby discourse concerning the people
Cry, Sons o =— on that day.'
jt^S EL k\l I WA I " I* *8 ^th feelings of self-humiliation that I ask myself, ' What
, L,n^ = n 3^w>>% i have I done that I should hold so high a place among such a people ? '"
lnough, perh =__r- I « What have j done for my place ?» asks Vk&vy.
Will certain!: = " w^t have I done ? " inquires Disraeli.
i — rf/tV^S " What have I done ?" the while covered with blushes, stammers
Which not d i - Malmsbtjry.
But don't voi=— ^HHHHBH ^ARL ov Derby take good heart—he has done a good deal.
ivL~.— | ^n "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
=_T I 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,
at the seventh, he might accept the black for white. It is chivalrous
The Times the oth(= en © >l I SP°rt *° (*estroy an 0PPonent> on'y to possess and fight with his
way in which he had E~~ rr 2 I weapons.
think the word "ridinjE. — ^ I I .at Daye * doner1 asks Mk. Disraeli. Why, wonders,
the Right Honourable— O You have jumped from the attorney's stool—(and a noble jump too, if
h|s seaj; — oo £^ | 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
I world is to the dromedary Jocko is perched upon. Your tricks are
= L. 5 « I numberless. You can crack epigrams like nuts, and fling the shells in
Much agitation prizz-b O = ST I the eyes of the folks surrounding. You can jabber about guns and
asking what next? r = ^ £j I soldiers, and marines and mortars, as much at dome wiih them as any
Jonathan is, An-nexe — f J monkey, born and dwelling on the Rock of Gibraltar—but then, you
= ^ I must first empty a Frenchman's ink-horn into your stomach, like a dry
=— hmhmmh^m pump, needing something to be poured in ere you begin to spout.
A :z_ Jjf^ I "What have I done? "asks the Chancellor of the Exchequer
Alluding to Chesl=" \J c cm [ And how all true men of pen-and-ink would have rejoiced to clap their
Mercury says- E_J£> V- % > ? hands, and cry " Bravely, my beautiful—my Ben !"
Ofi >= " What have I done ?" cries Malmsbury. Well, you have made
u ^ la first-rate bow to the Emperor of Austria. If John Bull had
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
J > 2 *ne. time, instead of that other thing with which in lairy tale at this
writing—(was there ever such a Land of Flam as France ?)—the Beauty
is companioned. With Malmsbury for Foreign Minister, John Bull
makes answer and say — ^ —- _ has grimaced and shrugged like a French dancing-master—and Bri-
the truth ot thus, Punc — {J tannia talked slip-slop to tyrants like any waiting-maid.
' There is little doubt no :
co
J. 11C KJO.&.SX 1>£j1j1jU»
66
263
EXCHANGE—A KOBBERY.
IGHT excellent Punch,
As one of a bunch
Of unlucky victims who've reason
to groan
O'er that vile imposition, the Otto-
man Loan,
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 uobusiness-like Government folk,
Till Malmesb'ri 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,
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
the solitude of midnight sheets!
Last week, the Earl of Derby—his system gently stimulated b;
Oh, let me appeal the Lord Mayor's roast and boiled—last week, the Earl op Derbi
To your wisdom and zeal, 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 murt 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 soldiery, they would precipitate themselves upon the mourning
coaches, stripping them of their velvet draperies and escutcheons. ISIo
Mungo Park, no Captain Cook could 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 ot
champagne—hear the Earl of Derby discourse concerning the people
Cry, Sons o =— on that day.'
jt^S EL k\l I WA I " I* *8 ^th feelings of self-humiliation that I ask myself, ' What
, L,n^ = n 3^w>>% i have I done that I should hold so high a place among such a people ? '"
lnough, perh =__r- I « What have j done for my place ?» asks Vk&vy.
Will certain!: = " w^t have I done ? " inquires Disraeli.
i — rf/tV^S " What have I done ?" the while covered with blushes, stammers
Which not d i - Malmsbtjry.
But don't voi=— ^HHHHBH ^ARL ov Derby take good heart—he has done a good deal.
ivL~.— | ^n "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
=_T I 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,
at the seventh, he might accept the black for white. It is chivalrous
The Times the oth(= en © >l I SP°rt *° (*estroy an 0PPonent> on'y to possess and fight with his
way in which he had E~~ rr 2 I weapons.
think the word "ridinjE. — ^ I I .at Daye * doner1 asks Mk. Disraeli. Why, wonders,
the Right Honourable— O You have jumped from the attorney's stool—(and a noble jump too, if
h|s seaj; — oo £^ | 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
I world is to the dromedary Jocko is perched upon. Your tricks are
= L. 5 « I numberless. You can crack epigrams like nuts, and fling the shells in
Much agitation prizz-b O = ST I the eyes of the folks surrounding. You can jabber about guns and
asking what next? r = ^ £j I soldiers, and marines and mortars, as much at dome wiih them as any
Jonathan is, An-nexe — f J monkey, born and dwelling on the Rock of Gibraltar—but then, you
= ^ I must first empty a Frenchman's ink-horn into your stomach, like a dry
=— hmhmmh^m pump, needing something to be poured in ere you begin to spout.
A :z_ Jjf^ I "What have I done? "asks the Chancellor of the Exchequer
Alluding to Chesl=" \J c cm [ And how all true men of pen-and-ink would have rejoiced to clap their
Mercury says- E_J£> V- % > ? hands, and cry " Bravely, my beautiful—my Ben !"
Ofi >= " What have I done ?" cries Malmsbury. Well, you have made
u ^ la first-rate bow to the Emperor of Austria. If John Bull had
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
J > 2 *ne. time, instead of that other thing with which in lairy tale at this
writing—(was there ever such a Land of Flam as France ?)—the Beauty
is companioned. With Malmsbury for Foreign Minister, John Bull
makes answer and say — ^ —- _ has grimaced and shrugged like a French dancing-master—and Bri-
the truth ot thus, Punc — {J tannia talked slip-slop to tyrants like any waiting-maid.
' There is little doubt no :
co
J. 11C KJO.&.SX 1>£j1j1jU»
66