The Press.
London, England, 1854-05-20 00:00:00

THE PRESS.

468

A MALT-TAX LYRIC.

" If an Opposition approve of a war in which a Government is engaged it is bound
to vote for every proposition of the Government."—See Debate of Monday Night.
" The doctrine was reduced to this, that whoever doubted the narrative of Oates was
denounced as a friend to the plot."—Archdeacon Eachard.

Take notice, objectors, that new-tax collectors
Can measure your treason by length of your face ;
Whate'er your position, a shrug is sedition,
For patriots at paying ne'er make a grimace.
Howe'er taxes press, you the rulers must bless,
For Government know he's a friend of the Czar
Who doubts each new tax that is laid on our backs
Is " the wisest and justest support of the war."

You farmers who feel that, like Joe Miller's eel,
By this time you're used to the Freetrader's knife,
Must now forget quite your traditional right,
To growl at taxation or murmur at life.
At market or fair you must strictly take care
To keep all discussion of budgets afar ;
You have heard the decree for such grumblers as ye
" Who doubts Mr. GLADSTONE is foe to the war."

Ye dealers in hops, in your " cords " and your " tops,"
Whose waggons, like Byron's, oft perfume the road,
You'd better take note that the next money vote
From both kinds of pockets don't empty the load.
And if you declare that " you think it ain't fair "
That taxes so partial should industry mar,
Lord JOHN will be able, in next return table,
To show that you're trying to cripple the war.

Ye tapsters so stout who to brewers pay out
The profit you meant for your savings alone,
Try to bridle your tongue, that so glibly bath rung,
Lest talking of freedom endanger your own.
Don't have consciences nice, but just add to your price
Some pence upon flagon and bottle and jar ;
Such morals appear in the doctrines we hear
That nought but the malt tax can pay for the war.
Coalheavers athirst into passion who burst
When your porter is offered at sixpence a pot,
Keep mute when you hear the advance on your beer,
Though your brows or your tempers be ever so hot.
If you can't understand how the taxing of land
Is the only true way of opposing the Czar,
You can read the ukase of Lord JOHN when he says
That the drinking dear ale is supporting the war.

Ye peasants who fear for "your bottle o' beer"
Take a loving farewell of such joy for a time ;
In hayfield in summer ne'er dream of a rummer
Nor full horn up-frothing at even or prime.
Non vobi.s sio vos—you must swallow the dose
Financiers prepare for you—hinds as you are !
Too abstract for you is the statesmanlike view
That longing for beer is opposing the war.

So all you glad throng unto whom doth belong
The freeman's permission his taxes to pay,
Remember 'tis faction to grudge any fraction
Our statesmen upon you think proper to lay.
With plaudits of praise greet "the means and the ways,"
Swear all other projects impossible are ;
That, to farmers grind down, is " supporting the Crown,"
And oppressing the land is " advancing the war."

SATURDAY
L

On the 29th the fleets of the English and French admirals in the
Black Sea resolved upon a renewal of their dastardly onslaught
upon the unprotected town of Odessa, dear to his Majesty's
heart. Basely skulking away from Sebastopol, where, thanks to his
Majesty's care, they would have found ships only too eager to engage
them, and guns which would have swept them from the face of the
polluted sea, the whole armament assembled before Odessa. Our
noble artillerymen remained in prayers beside their cannon, waiting
until the audacious invaders should pursue their treacherous aggres-
sion upon a commercial town so far as to be within easy reach. Appa-
rently, this device gave fresh courage to the assailants, who, finding that
their frigates were not fired upon, ventured to bring their enormous
line of ships, to the number of between two and three thousand,
into the harbour of Odessa, whence, habitually, the golden grain of our
provinces pours charitably forth for the sustenance of the world.
As soon as this mighty armament was enclosed within the encircling
arms of the moles, and the brutal invaders were preparing their mur
derous broadsides, the clergy of Odessa, regardless of danger, came in
procession to the seashore, and, falling upon their knees, offered up
devout petitions to St. Nicholas. Instantly the fiendish hatred of the
apostates awoke, and, though the Protestant vessels of England re-
mained in sullen silence, the so-called Catholics of France at once
opened fire upon the holy men. It was in vain. Balls, directed with
all the boasted skill of French engineering, plunged among the sacred
throng, but each iron sphere dropped into dust like the white ashes
of the censer. Shells burst among them, but, instead of mangling and
shattering, gave out frankincense and myrrh ; and some deadly rock-
ets, pausing in their course, flew playfully, like cherubs, round and
round the priestly votaries, diffusing a delicious odour. Our gallant
soldiery, indignant at the sacrilege, sought to fire, but, for the first
time, found that their guns would not explode. The priests continued
to pray, when a signal miracle was worked. The monster arms of the
harbour, between which the enemy's fleet was moored, began to ap-
proach each other, and the invaders, paralysed with awe, saw them-
selves gradually locked in that fearful embrace. On came the tremen-
dous limbs, and, as they neared, the ships were crushed together like
eggshells, and when the arms met, with a clap like thunder, the arma
ments of France and England were reduced to an impalpable powder.
In an hour the harbour resumed its usual shape, the hostile armaments
were deep in the waters, but a tinge of crimson on the Euxine wave
told how dreadful had been the sacrifice. The priests arose, and, by
special licence from the Governor of the town, all drank deeply
in honour of the blessed saint who had thus interposed at their
call.

But St. Nicholas's energies are not limited to one spot, and, like
the Emperor himself, he keeps guard over the whole of Russia. That
same day had been chosen by the bloodthirsty commander of the
British fleet in the Baltic for an attack upon Cronstadt, the key to the
capital. At early dawn the whole force of England, and of her
French coadjutor, was seen approaching Cronstadt, and the Emperor,
who was watching with a telescope (when is Nicholas not watching
over his children ?), instantly displayed the signal for devotion. One
mighty hymn to our patron saint went up from fortress, from camp,
and from barracks, echoed from the shores of the Neva, and swelled
by the noble voice of the Emperor himself. The English leader heard
it, but his profane soul was in no wise touched. He hoisted from the
mainmast of his huge vessel a black flag, bearing, in red letters, the
words, "—, or St. Petersburg." The flapping of the banner prevented
the first word from being made out. On came the whole fleet, in grim
silence, broken only by the roaring of the steam, which had been
turned on to its utmost. The Emperor watched from the loftiest
roof of his palace, and his gallant children knew that his eye
was upon them, but they knew not the mighty blow which
he was about to strike for them—they saw not the delicate
electric-wire which was at his hand, and whose other end lay
buried in the deeps below the keels of the foe. The squadrons of
England and France, proud in their brute force, and in their million
guns, and reckless of the power true religion bestows, bore onwards,
and the voice of the furious admiral was distinctly heard in a wild
demoniacal screech, calling on his men to "go it !" The next moment
he was nearer the sky than he had ever expected to be, for the Em-
peror's hand had liberated the electric spark. The billions of powder-
barrels which the Emperor has been depositing, in secret, in that sea
channel, ever since the blaspheming Mahometan induced his allies to
arm, received the fiery message, the sea heaved with one tumultuous
swell, and above the mighty cloud of smoke which welled up from the
waters could be seen the monster Duke of Wellingtou, her guns and
men tumbling from her, flying away in air, and then plunging into the
depths of the avenging waters. When the smoke had cleared nothing
remained of the armaments, save the remnants of the admiral's black
flag, floating on the agitated deep. This relic was saved by a daring
sailor-boy, who brought it to the Emperor, and was instantly created
a nobleman, and endowed with an estate of 00,000 serfs, for when does
virtue and valour go unrewarded in Russia?
The Emperor is preparing at once to take possession of England
and France, now defenceless. He intends to reward the constancy of
Prussia by annexing France to that kingdom, and to recompense the
unmerited sufferings of Lord Aberdeen by making him Governor-
General of Great Britain. The execution of the Royal Familles of the
two countries will take place on the Emperor's birthday, and national
rejoicings will be appointed, over which Mr. Cobden in France (from
his superior knowledge of the language), and Mr. Bright iu England,
will preside. Heaven preserve the Emperor!