Punch (39.1860)

232

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

December 15, 1860.

PITY THE POOR POPES

tip orthy Gentleman, drop a tear of pity for a
Sovereign Pontiff, who hardly has a shilling
wherewith he may bless himself, which l haven’t
touched a fi’-pun’ note, your honour, lawks! I
can’t say when; for it’s them low blayguard
fellers who say they ’re my protectors as takes
care of all_my property, and it’s gospel-true
they’ve eatin’ of me out of house and Rome,
and here am I reduced to try and earn my living
in a foreign land, which it’s hard on a old man
to sleep upon a doorstep, while Emperors as
should know better snaps their fingers in my
face, and acts as though they had been born
with a tiara on their heads, ’cause I’m the right-
ful owner, as you know, kind Gentleman, and
they’ve robbed me of my crownd, and not left
me so much as five shillings in my pocket; so
drop a tear of pity, if you please, kind Gentle-
man, and drop a copper too, and receive my
benediction, for you see my Peter is a getting
dreadful slow in the col-lection of his Pence for
me, and I’m growing a old man, and when I
wants a crust of bread it’s hard to have to work
for it by lying on a flag-stone; so drop a tear,”
&c., &c.

Such, done into plain English, may be the
words in choice Italian that, ere many months
are past, may meet the ear of loungers in
Lei-ces-ter-r-r-r-e Squarr, and attract their gene-
rous notice to a seedy but still rotund and sleek-
faced elderly person, who has been sketching
loaves and fishes in chalk upon the pavement.
The circular letter lately issued for collecting
Peter’s Pence shows clearly that His Holiness
is on his last financial legs. A man must be getting hard-up, when he has to beg for coppers; and if this circular letter fails to square the-
Pope’s accounts, Leicester Square, we fancy, is the only resource left him. Persons who can’t raise the wind generally prescribe themselves
a sudden change of air; and if with all their brass his Cardinals can’t get tin for him, the Holy Father, speaking figuratively, will be forced'
ere long to hook it. Without money of course he cannot pay his mercenaries, and without their help he cannot long retain his throne. If
the Pope can’t fill his purse he must vacate the Holy See, and come—as Punch predicted in his Fourteenth Volume (see page 116)—sailing
in his cockboat across the British Channel.

Other reasons than financial ones there are, too, for his going. Of those whom he still calls the “true sons of the Church,” there are
not a few who wish to see him farther; and would if need be lend a hand, or a foot even, to send him there. Besides, the world is growing
wiser than it was, and Popes no longer are necessities of spiritual life to people. Here is the Emperor op the French taking a leaf from
English history, and threatening to take any Pope’s Bull by the horns that enters his dominions. Louis, like our Henry, seems thoroughly
prepared to try on the tiara, and if the cap fits we have small doubt that he will wear it. “ Every Emperor his own Pope” will be soon
the pope-ular motto, and as for poor old Papa Pius we fear that his rebellious sons will play a little game with him of “no child of mine,”
and get up a collection of more kicks than Peter’s Pence for him.

OUR WONDERFUL ALLIES.

Among the people whom Prince Alfred lately had the honour of
being introduced to in his Visit to the Cape, was a native who, according
to the Times and other newspapers, rejoiced in the imposing title of
“King Moshesh.” Now there is something in a name, despite Miss
Juliet's seeming doubt of it; and as that of “Moshesh” may possess
somewhat of interest to some few of our readers, we propose, as we
have nearly half an hour to spare and nothing else we want to do in it,
to furnish a few details concerning this King Moshesh, who has been
exchanging salutations with our Prince.

By a Black Book, which is studied in high Hottentot society with
scarcely less avidity than our Red Book is in ours, it is stated that
King Moshesh sprang from Negro extraction, and that on either
side his family is of very ancient date. One writer pretends to trace
in a direct line the genealogy of this black sovereign up to our Black
Prince; while another strives to strengthen this preposterous assertion
by showing how King Moshesh levies black mail on his subjects,—a
practice which was once pursued extensively in England, and which
proves that certain of the ancestors of Moshesh must have had
acquaintance with the customs of that country, if indeed they were not
of true British blood and birth. Other allegations, equally absurd,
hav“ been made to prove his Majesty of right royal descent; and
several of the alienators appear inclined to shed some rather croco-
diley tears at their failing to establish this important point. We
regret we cannot say much to assist them in the matter; but seeing
that his skin is somewhat of the sootiest, we think that there are
certainly some grounds for the conjecture that King Moshesh is
remotely connected with the potentate now known as Old King Coal.

A Portrait of King Moshesh has recently been published in a
Blackamoor Book of Beauties, which, we believe, has an extensive
Caffre circulation, and has portraits of the chief celebrities of Fashion
at the Cape. If the King be half as black as he is painted in this

picture, he need not fear that London smoke would injure his com-
plexion; and as fresh troupes of Niggers are continually coming, it is
not impossible he may be induced to visit us. According to his
portrait, King Moshesh’s Court costume combines Simplicity with
Elegance in a remarkable degree. It consists of a dress coat and pants-
of the last century, worn over a suit of bears’-grease. For crown, King.
Moshesh usually sports a porkpie hat.

News for the Fancy.

The Directors of Exeter Hall are evidently alive to the requirements-
of the Ring. “A Serious Boxer” was allowed to exhibit in the
revered edifice a few nights ago, and a smiling one, perhaps our friend'
Mr. Tom Sayers, or the Infant, may hope for his turn next. Witln
the “Corinthians” on the platform, and the Umpire in the chair, the
next battle for the Belt might he fought out delightfully in the Hall.
Only we suggest the erasing “ Philadelpheion,”'and resuming the title-
of Exeter Change. _

ON AN EJECTING BISHOP.

One hopes he’s a Plunkett, and yet there’s a doubt.

It’s the very first time that a Plunkett turned out.

Campbell, C.

Electoral Analysis.

The electors of Southwark have been divided' into two classes—the- j
Ninnies, and the Ninevehs; the latter are friends of Mr. Layard,
and those who have been opposing his return, are, of course, the
Ninnies.

“A Vicious Cikcle.”—A Guardsman’s Belt.