The Press.
London, England, 1856-09-27 00:00:00

THE PRESS.

SEPT. 27, 1856.

A VISION OF CROMWELL.
Mr. ERNEST JONES attempts a new parody, encouraged by the success of that
ending with
Give us one glorious day,
Of Cromwell's time.
I dreamed that I dwelt in the glorious days
Of the great Lord Protector's times,
Whereof you'll remember I sounded the praise
In my Primrose-hill democrat rhymes.
It was all very well, Mr. Frost, for a song,
And it suited uncommon our game ;
But I really don't think from the dream that I had
I should like it—all the same,
I should like—l should like—
I should like it—all the same!
I dreamed that we stood up, haranguing the crowd,
Just under Whitehall, you and
And strove to distract our friends' fingers and thoughts
From the pockets of thor,e who went by.
We told them how Cromwell on that very spot
Made the head of a tyrant to drop,
When, all on a sudden, I dreamed I saw Noll's
Thrust out of the second-floor--pop

"Who maketh this stir? " he said grimly and grave,
" What stoppeth my peaceable street ?
This Rump-Parliament's session is over, I say,
Deal, Skippon, therewith, as is meet.
Oh, Jones ! Ernest Jones ! the Lord and his Saints
Preserve me from thee, Ernest Jones!
Of my crowning mercies' right soon shalt thou taste,
Sith thou askest in ignorant tones."
I dreamed that he called for the headsman then,
And gave me five minutes to pray ;
That my bead off, he tossed it to some one, and said,
" Take this empty bauble away !"
I dreamed that he called you a pitiful dog
The kind hand that fed you to bite ;
And he swore he would warm you with fire and log
As soon as his tinder took light.

I dreamed things more dreadful in every respect,
Till I woke with a kick and a scream,
And the first thing I did was to feel at my neck,
So wonderfully real did it seem.
And I think, Mr. Frost, in the next song I write,
If the chance for another song came.
I should leave out that sigh for the glorious days
Of old Noll—if it's all the same.

PLEASANT FRIENDS IN COUNCIL.
Lord Aberdeen has been entertaining Mr. John Bright and the Earl Grey.—Post.

TlME—After dinner, the wine having been once round, and the trio addressing
themselves to improving conversation.
ABERDEEN.—I can recommend that claret—try it, Grey.

GREY.-011Vei1't

ABERDEEN.—I should think not. By the way, I see that ho has
been boring the people at Brussels with his plans for bringing in his
acid nastiness to supersede London stout.

GREY (instantly becoming antagonistic).—Cliveira may talk nonsense
I have observed that most people do. But the present system is all
wrong. Mr. Bright, I know, will allow that.
Blum-m-1 do ; but you must pardon my saying that I don't be
lieve you know how it ought to be set right.
ABERDEEN.—One for your nob, as we say in Greek, Grey.
BRIGHT.—And Lord Abet deen of course does not, or when he was
in office he would have tried the experiment.
ABERDEEN.—But I don't admit that it is wrong. That claret is
very good—
BRIGHT.—You said so before, but Lord Grey will not let me verify
the assertion. Thank you. Yes, it is good. I have seldom tasted
better except from a Quaker's cellar. Well, now, why should not the
people drink this kind of thing?
ABERDEEN.—Because they would not appreciate it. This wine is
au effort of art, anti in colour, perfume, and flavour, is perfect. Is this
a pearl to be cast before swine, or rather a liquid to be poured into
their trough 9 Ido not praise it because it is mine—
GREY.—I beg your pardon, but you do. If it were at my table
you would chill it—actually kill it—with your cold toleration.
ABERDEEN (complacently).—l never spoil my friends by flattery.
BRIGHT.—As to the swine allusion, that is what I might have
expected from " Aberdeen, the Exquisite," as Tom Moore calls you.
besides, you have hated the people since they turned you out. Ido
not think that you should bear malice.
ABERDEEN.-1 bear none, I assure you. But you will not persuade
me that the rabble ought to drink wine like this.
GREY.—The inferior classes ought not to drink stimulating drinks
at all. I have a theory of my own as to what they ought to take,
which I shall reserve until I can develop it with advantage.
boicarr.—They ought to drink just what gives them pleasure, sup-
Posing that it does not incapacitate them from doing their duty to their
employers.

GnEy.--If you come to that, what have employers to impose
duties in conflict with the happiness of their fellow-subjects?

925

BRIGHT.—I do not expect a lord to understand the question of
capital and labour.
GREY.—No man can—or rather no man will understand it whose
selfish interests are bound up in the subject.
BRIG HT.—Rubbish ! A man comprehends his own business.
ABERDEEN.—Yes, there is a classic; proverb enjoining you to listen
to a person who speaks of his own trade.
BRIO HT.—That Paganism does not add weight to my allegation,
which however is self evident.

ABERDEEN.—I'ass the claret This bottle is even better than the
last.

GREY (tasting).—Nothing like so good. I believe, indeed, that it
is corked.

BRIGHT.—The first was corked—this is all right.
ABERDEEN.—Neither was corked, and both are beautiful. Did
you read Mr. Cobden's letter to the Congress at Brussels?

GREY.—Yes. It was crotchety, andl hate anything of that kind.
BRIGHT.—I don't see how you can have read it to say that. It
was straightforward enough, only the points were weakly put, for poor
Cobden has not much backbone in him.

GREY.—He is the only man of the school who can reason, and
though he reasons wrongly he is to be respected. If he came in my
way I would take the trouble to show him how wrong he is.
BRIGHT —I hold his opinions, and am ready to combat with you
for them.

GREY (loftily).—l would instruct, not combat, Mr. Bright.
BRIGHT.—But to impart knowledge one should possess it, my Lord,
a qualification I have yet to observe in you.
ABERDEEN.—Pass the wine. I declare that a few minutes of the
warm room has brought out the flavour exquisitely.
GREY.—The room is too warm—it has flattened the wine.
BRIGHT —Absurd to suppose that so few minutes can have prc-
duced any effect at all. A lad in one of our mill schools would have
laughed at such a suggestion.
GREY.—I am told the factory boys seldom have cause to laugh
at all.

BRIGHT.—Come and lecture to them, then, and give them a chance.
ABERDEEN.—DO you mean to say that this claret is not in tip-top
condition? My dear friend of forty years, the late Emperor of
Russia—

Baionr.—Yes, he was a noble fellow.

GREY.—And the war was a wicked wrong.

ABERDEEN.—Come, we have found something to agree upon at last.
Well, I sent him some of this when he was over here, and went to
Ascot, you know. I heard that he spoke very highly of it.
BRIGHT.—Wine is no better because a King praises it.
GREY.—And Nicholas notoriously knew nothing about wine,
and would drink anything that was given him But, in fact, Ido not
know anybody but myself whose opinion I could implicitly take about
wine.

BRIGHT.—There is a vulgar saying about another liquid, which I
will be bound you do not think yourself.
ABERDEEN.—IS it the fluid Prince Hal WAS not ashamed to
remember ?

BRIGHT.—HOW should I know what a profligate boy talked about?
I mean small-beer, if there is any doubt.
GREY.—The conversation takes a tone which makes one anxious
to discontinue it. (Rises.) I suppose I shall find coffee in the library ?
BRIGHT.—And books, which might clear your brain with even
greater advantage. And now Cranky's gone, my dear Lord, we'll enjoy
ourselves—excuse my rudoness, it was the only way of getting rid of
him. Now I'll explain to you the whole question of foreign politics.--
(Heard speaking at three a.m.)

BRITISH VERSUS TIPPERARY;
On, MACGREGOR VERSUS SADLEIR.
Genius was never yet confined to Race,
She spurns the paltry bounds of realm or place.
Who has not worshipped more than Grecian grace
In Roman Clyte's pensive sensuous face?
While more than Rome or Athens ever taught
Thorwaldsen's Scandinavia► chisel wrought.
Millais' fierce genius spurns the frigid rules
And sweet conventions of Italian schools.
French tailors boast pre-eminence in taste,
But bid them mark Smith Vernon's tightened waist ;
Would beer• Germans vaunt their gusty style,
See, England shows her " windbag" in Carlyle.

Shall Irish Sadleir claim unrivalled skill
In breaking banks or pilfering a till ?
Forbid it Scotia ! Glasgow scorns to yield
To savage Carlow such a fruitful field.
If Nature hives the Celt a kindlier soil,
The hardye'Scotchman works with honest toil
Till his more sterile garden blooms and flowers
With a luxuriance scarcely known in ours.i
As /Esop's tortoise scoured the sandy plain
And reached the goal the hare could ne'er attain,
So dull didactic Lords of Trade outstrip
The brilliant Coalition's Irish whip.
The sprightlier felon dies of his disgrace ;
His less mercurial colleague wins the race,'
And, all unhurt by Tory's harmless jeer,
Flourishes still a full-blou n financier.
Dublin, September 25th.

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