told Arthur to depart from his presence, and he called Grey before him.
44 And he said, thy wisdom is great, get this bill passed, else we be
all dead men.
45 And the thing was done in haste, for great fear and trembling had
fallen upon them.
46 And the Nobles and the high priests agreed unto the bill, for they
were sore afraid, and quaked much.
_THE HAPPY REFORM._
LET us sing this aloud to the joy shouting crowd,
That once were going to arm;
Let all parties rejoice, and sing with one voice,
And join in the Happy Reform.
My name is John Bull, and with joy I am full,
I have something to say that will charm;
Come, Sandy, along, and with Pat join my song,
Let us sing of the Happy Reform.
Brother Pat, you and Sandy, I know are quite handy
To assist your John Bull in a storm:
Brothers Sandy and Paddy, you’ll now be as ready
To join me and sing the Reform.
But a few years ago, we durst not sing so,
Such a song, then, was counted a harm;
But now we may sing, O, long live our King,
Who has joined in the Happy Reform.
But this I must shew, for some do not know,
It is proper I should them inform,
So I will explain to them in my strain,
What’s meant by the present Reform.
O, it is to ease, and the people to please,
And to keep them from raising a storm:
’Tis that all Ten pound Renters may choose Parliamenters,
To give us the happy Reform.
This sure they will do, as their hearts will be true,
When bribery can do us no harm;
They will shew with true spirit what the Corn Bill does merit,
And turn it to Happy Reform.
Rotten Boroughs all now ’a tottering must fall,
And the Corn Bill, the great eating worm;
And the bull must be fell’d, and the despots expell’d,
To give way to the Happy Reform.
Oppressions hard grip will soon get the slip,
Which a long time has done us much harm:
O, then we will rise from the taxes and tithes,
To enjoy all the Happy Reform.
This to all will soon give, a good way to live,
And the farmer will have a cheap farm;
Then the rents will come down in the country and town,
By the brave and the Happy Reform.
This will happiness bring to the subject and king,
And save all from dreadful alarm--
Which once gave a peep--but now is asleep
In the bosom of Happy Reform.
Our king in the fray, the Sceptre did sway,
And our foes did completely disarm;
Wellington and great Peel to the left he did wheel,
For joining us not in Happy Reform.
Grey, Russell, and Brougham, our thanks we give to them,
For fighting for us in the storm;
Round them and our king, we will dance in a ring,
And sing--Success to the Happy Reform.
Reformation of Laws we will hail with applause,
With a hearty grand welcome so warm;
And with Heaven to save King William the Brave,
For joining us all in Reform.
We now need not fear, while the helm he does steer,
With a heart for our welfare so warm;
For his colours now fast he has nail’d to the mast,
And is bound for the Happy Reform.
_THE OPERATIVES’ MARCH._
MARCH! march! Comrades in Freedom now,
On let us march to the music of Order!
Arms we have none--for no one can need ’em now--
Peace is the word from John Groat’s to the Border.
Long have we wearied, and waited to see it,
Now it is come--with its blessing and pride;
In the hearts of our Sons unforgotten shall be it,
The King and the Country are both on our side.
Our banners are glancing--our section advancing,
The pipe and the trumpet are pealing above,
Shout with the voice of men--yet once again! again!
The Cause--and the King that a People can love.
March! March! etc.
A cheer for the Queen too, and one--be it seen to--
For Sussex, who ne’er was to Freedom untrue;
Shout away--shout away! ’tis for Russell and Grey,
And Lord Harry--and all of our Admiral’s crew!
We vow to stand by them--their foes we defy them--
For, honestly--firmly--they’ve weathered the storm;
And these were their watch words, as they’ll be our catch words,
The cause of the People, the King, and Reform!
March! March! etc.
AT Manchester, on September 18, 1838, an Association called the
“Anti-Corn-Law League” was formed, having for its object the
abolition of the duties on the importation of corn, avowedly to
cheapen the food of the people. The principal agitators were
Richard Cobden, John Bright, Charles Villiers, etc., and by holding
meetings all over the country, lecturing, and distributing
handbills and ballads, the Corn Importation Bill was eventually
passed, June 26, 1846, when, there being no further occasion for
its existence, the League was dissolved. Cobden was richly rewarded
for his efforts, as a national subscription was raised for him,
which realized nearly £80,000.
[Illustration]
_A NEW ALPHABETICAL SONG ON THE CORN LAW BILL._
GOOD people draw near as you pass along,
And listen awhile to my alphabetical song.
A. is Prince Albert once buxsom and keen,
Who from Jermany came and got spliced to the Queen.
_Chorus._
For their all a spinning their cause in triumph springing,
And the poor man he is a singing since the Corn bill is repailed.
B. Stands for Smith O Brien, he an Irishman so true,
He hammered at Coersion till he beat them black and blue.
When he got out of prison that bill he did oppose,
With the fright he gave old welington, he fell and broke his nose.
C. is brave cobden one night it is said,
Threw a quarter Loaf at old Buckinghams hed,
Concerning the Corn laws he laid it down strong,
And he spun out yarn seventeen hour long.
D. for the duncomb who helpt the plan,
To give full and plenty to each true the land.
E. Stands for Evans who would Starve us again,
Because he beat 40 thousand old woman in Spain.
F. Stands for ferrand a protectiones Tool,
He spoke seven hours and raved like a fool;
G. Stands for graham who early and late,
Breaking seals at the post office a repealer for to take.
H. is old hume he is clever do you see,
He subtracted 2 from 1 and got the corn duty free;
I. is bob Inglis against free trade Blue and blast,
He was seven hours in the stericks when the corn bill did pass.
J. Stands for jerry who spoke till he was hoarse,
In the middle of the fight his fair daughter he lost;
She followed a soldier, and off she went slap,
With gun and a nap-sack slung over her back.
K. is for Kelly, he kept up the jaw,
Till he got the corn Free and brought into law;
L. Stands for lindhurst with his Brushes, Paints and Pots,
Guess how he was born or how that he was got.
M. Is Lord Morpeth who nobly fought,
Each night in succession for the corn law;
N. is old nosey who opposes him its true,
For to loose 15 thousands he is quite in the blues.
O. Is O Connell to them told the Law,
And is still bideing time for old Erin Gobraugh.
P. Stands for Peel who is acting upright,
And between you and me he has got a long sight.
Q. Is the question of Coersion they say,
So their stuck in the trap bob cut away.
R. Is Lord Russell whoes making all haste,
To run down to Windsor to fill Boby’s place.
To ride in Peel’s saddle he’l find it a job,
For he shakes on his legs like a staggering bob.
S. is Lord Stanley, who shaking with fear,
For his tenants payed him their rent with a bullet this year.
And swore if they catch him he’ll never elope,
Till they well oil his body with flails of good oak.
T. Is the teasel that comb them all down,
U. is for uxbridge who wonders have done.
V. Stands for Villiers whom the farmers detest,
For to Slaughter the corn law he did do his best;
For free trade he struggled by day and by night,
He is next in command to cobden and bright.
W. Stands for wakley a docter so bold,
Who swore on the corn bill an Inquest he’d hold;
When the Jury he charged he let them all see,
A verdict was returned for the corn to be free.
X. Is a letter which puts me in mind
Of a ship load of land lords that sail’d against wind;
Now over the ocean they must all away
To spend their last days in botane bay.
Y. Stands for york the archbishop so big,
Who loves for to dine on a little tithe pig:
Free trade on last Sunday (_did_) so him perplex,
That he sang rule britania and thought it the text.
Z. Is for Zetland an old English pere,
Who swore he (_’d_) have bread and potaties so dear.
The corn bill is past the landlords are very bad,
They must be muzeled in the dog day for fear they
might go mad.
[Illustration]
_A NEW SONG ON THE CORN BILL._
HURRAH, my boys, a bumper fill,
And drink success, with heart and will,
To those that pass’d the Corn Bill,
Long may they be victorious.
Cheap food from every foreign shore,
In shiploads will sail in galore,
The landlords now are wounded sore;
They’ll have to sell both sow and boar,
To keep their great big paunches up
They’ll scarcely have a bite or sup;
Too long, my boys, they’ve sucked the honey cup,
But soon they’ll lose the swarm.
Hurrah, etc.
The landlords cry, Oh, Bobby P----l,
You have a heart as hard as any steel,
Sure, for the landlords you should feel,
And not be so hard hearted.
Oh dear, oh dear, the landlords cry,
The time is fast approaching nigh,
When neither barley, oats, nor rye,
The merchants will not from us buy,
For they can get both flour and grain
From France, America and Spain,
Enough to rack us on the brain,
And set John Bull distracted.
Hurrah, etc.
The bread will shortly get a fall,
The bakers will go to the wall,
No ’taters they must use at all,
But sell the best and cheapest.
Too long it has been on the rise,
But now they’re struck with much surprise
They’ll have to look with both their eyes,
And with the poor man compromise.
Good bread will be a penny a pound,
And beef and mutton safe and sound,
Well earned, too, that I’ll be bound,
Will daily be imported.
Hurrah, etc.
The monopolists have cause to weep,
They cannot lull themselves to sleep,
Their rams, and wethers, yews, and sheep,
They may send off to market.
Too long they have fattened on the spoil,
They’d fain to work your bones to oil,
Their greasy pots did often boil
Upon the poor man’s sweat and toil.
The time is now approaching fast,
Free trade will fly on every mast,
The bonded stores will then, at last,
Cry out, the ports are open.
Hurrah, etc.
Tom Duncombe, Cobden, and Dick Bright
In Parliament, on Thursday night,
They did kick up the devils fight,
And chased the Duke of R----d
Poor B----m he did lose his wig,
Old Nosey gave him such a dig,
And called him an old grunting pig,
And Bobby danced the Polka jig;
Says Bob, I surely will resign,
I tell you, Arthur, now in time,
You’d better get a piece of line,
And hang the Duke of R----d.
Hurrah, etc.
May Cromwell’s ghost, of whom they talk,
Come jumping with a piece of chalk,
And mark a road for Bob to walk,
Right to the town of Tamworth.
Sure, little John, I’ve heard it said,
Is planted now in Bobby’s stead,
He’ll give you plenty of cheap bread
For ten years after you are dead.
The whigs are getting into power,
The tories are all looking sour,
The very thoughts of foreign flour
Will make them cut their wison.
Hurrah, etc.
Now to conclude and end my song,
I hope to see before it’s long,
The corn-brokers in a throng
All sailing to Hanover.
For now they cry out wirnstrew,
And damn the duke of Waterloo.
Oh dear, oh dear, what shall we do?
Free trade will surely make us rue.
So, ladies, all come shout huzza,
For now comes on the glorious day
When plenty of cheap bread, beef, and tea,
Will make you smile so charming.
Hurrah, etc.
THE following is given as a specimen of contemporary “flapdoodle.”
_THE CRISIS._
1846.
WHEN fell corruption’s bands conspire
To legalize injustice dire;
To rob a people, brave and free,
What shall resist the Tyranny?
To counteract the vile intrigue,
The God of truth upraised THE LEAGUE,
When grasping Tyrants--greedy elves--
Make laws which but enrich themselves;
Who shall their power and force withstand,
And stay the ’curst oppressor’s hand?
THE LEAGUE!--the people’s chosen band,
Shall stay the ’curst oppressor’s hand.
Tho’ meddling Dukes of vast renown
Would cast a noble people down;
(The silly tribe affect affright,
Tho’ proxies[60] fill their pockets quite.)
THE LEAGUE shall lead (as soon ’twill be)
A people firm--a people free!
What boots it, that we laurels gain
On crimson’d field, or on the main,
If selfish senators befool us,
If the domestic spoilers rule us?
THE LEAGUE on such has kept its eye,
And _Registration_ is the cry.
When a “bold peasantry” decays;
When want creeps in a thousand ways;
When tenant farmers struggling hard
Thro’ toilsome years get--_no reward_.
THE LEAGUE will rescue--come what may;
Nor care they for the landlord’s bray.
When drooping trade declines its head;
When starving thousands cry for bread;
When sorrowing age seeks death’s kind gate,
And children wail their hapless fate.
THE LEAGUE _must_ to the throne appeal,
While millions cry “Repeal--Repeal.”
Names which were once the nation’s blight,
Fair York and Lancaster[61]--unite;
Old feuds forgotten--now their pride
Is to march _onward_ side by side.
THE LEAGUE--their boast--their hope--their joy;
Pure sterling ore without alloy.
When clouds hung o’er the drama’s name,
What gave to Covent Garden Fame?
When Stage, Pit, Gallery, Boxes, all
Echoed each voice at Freedom’s call;
THE LEAGUE supplied each honour’d name
That gave to Covent Garden[62] fame.
“Give us our daily bread” pray we;
“Stop, stop,” cries vile _monopoly_,
“Before _you_ wants are well supplied,
For all _my sons_ you _shall provide_.”
THE LEAGUE--the monster doth expose,
And burns a torch beneath its nose.
ALBION--thy wrongs shall disappear;
SCOTIA--hold on--be of good cheer;
ERIN--thy griefs removed shall be,
Justice, tho’ late, shall visit thee.
THE LEAGUE doth its assistance lend;
Of none the foe--of all the friend.
’Ere long, fair knowledge will unfold
Her ample page--brighter than gold;
Ere long, the Laws which tyrants used
Shall yield to those which Heaven diffused.
THE LEAGUE shall then its work have done,
And all rejoice o’er victories won.
Ye powers divine--who care for all
That breathe on this terraqueous ball,
FREE TRADE and every blessing give!
“O teach the nations _how_ to live!”
Still shall EACH LEAGUER’S motto be,
“Justice, Love, Peace, Humanity.”
AFTER any great National movement, the ferment takes some time to
subside. Many agitators find their occupation gone, and look around
for some other strife to stir up. There is always an advanced
Radical school in every nation, and after the Reform Bill was
settled, “the People’s Charter” took its place. What was required
were the six following “Points”:--_Universal Suffrage, Vote by
Ballot, Annual Parliaments, Payment of the Members, the Abolition
of the Property Qualification, and equal Electoral Districts_. In
1838 they made armed demonstrations in several parts of the
country, and rioting took place in 1839. In 1848 monster petitions
in its favour were presented to Parliament, and on April 10 of that
year 200,000 men were invited to assemble on Kennington Common, and
march to the Houses of Parliament. About one-tenth of them
appeared, and, having full knowledge of the number of troops and
special constables who would oppose their progress, they thought
“discretion the better part of valour” and dispersed to their
homes. This was the last of “the Charter.”
_CHARTISTS ARE COMING._
WHAT a row and a rumpus there is I declare,
Tens of thousands are flocking from every where,
To petition the Parliament, onward they steer,
The Chartists are coming, oh dear, oh dear,
To demand equal justice, their freedom and right,
Pump handles and broom sticks, lawk, how they can fight!
The nation they say is o’erwhelmed with grief;
A peck loaf for twopence, and four pounds of beef.
_Chorus._
Hurrah for old England and liberty sweet,
The land that we live in and plenty to eat,
We shall ever remember this wonderful day,
See the Chartists are coming, get out of the way.
Such a number together was never yet seen,
Hurrah for the Charter, and God save the Queen!
And when that the Charter, Old England has got,
We’ll have stunning good beer at three halfpence a pot:
A loaf for a penny, a pig for a crown,
And gunpowder tea at five farthings a pound:
Instead of red herrings, we’ll live on fat geese,
And lots of young women at two pence a piece.
The bakers and grocers, look how they do laugh,
With dustmen and coal heavers armed with a staff.
Five thousand old women, oh, how they do sing,
With frying pans, fenders, and big rolling pins.
There’s Russell, and Bobby, old Nosey, and Hume,
With pistols and bayonets, muskets and brooms,
Load away, fire away, chatter and jaw,
Shoot at a donkey and knock down a crow.
See the lads of old Erin for liberty crow,
Repeal of the Union and Erin-go-bragh!
Peace and contentment, then none can we blame,
Plenty of labour, and paid for the same;
Some are rolling in riches, and luxury, too,
While millions are starving with nothing to do;
Through the Nation prosperity soon will be seen,
Hurrah for the Charter, and God save the Queen!
Such constables there are in London, now mark,
Tailors and shoemakers, labourers and clerks,
Gas light men, pick pockets, firemen too,
Green grocers, hatters, pork butchers, and Jews:
Lollipop merchants, and masons a lot,
And the covey what hollows “Baked taters all hot.”
They are sworn to protect us, and keep well the peace,
To frighten the Chartists and help the police.
THIS is the sort of stuff that was disseminated among the people at
the time of the agitation for “the Charter,” and, looking at the
convulsion of 1848, which shook Europe to its centre, it speaks
volumes for the good sense of the lower classes that they were not
stirred up to acts of violence by such inflammatory rubbish as the
following.
_THE SONG OF THE LOWER CLASSES._
By ERNEST JONES.
Music by John Lowry. This song can also be sung to the air of “The Monks
of Old.”
WE plough and sow--we’re so very, very low
That we delve in the dirty clay,
Till we bless the plain--with the golden grain,
And the vale with the fragrant hay.
Our place we know,--we’re so very low,
’Tis down at the landlord’s feet:
We’re not too low--the bread to grow,
But too low the bread to eat.[63]
Down, down we go,--we’re so very low,
To the hell of the deep sunk mines,
But we gather the proudest gems that glow,
When the crown of a despot shines.
And whenever he lacks--upon our backs
Fresh loads he deigns to lay:
We’re far too low to vote the tax,
But not too low to pay.
We’re low--we’re low--mere rabble, we know,
But, at our plastic power,
The mould at the lordling’s feet will grow
Into palace and church and tower.
Then prostrate fall--in the rich man’s hate,
And cringe at the rich man’s door;
We’re not too low to build the wall,
But too low to tread the floor.
We’re low--we’re low--we’re very very low,
Yet from our fingers glide
The silken flow--and the robes that glow
Round the limbs of the sons of pride.
And what we get--and what we give--
We know, and we know our share;
We’re not too low the cloth to weave,
But too low the Cloth to wear!
We’re low--we’re low--we’re very very low,
And yet when the trumpets ring,
The thrust of a poor man’s arm will go
Thro’ the heart of the proudest King.
We’re low--we’re low--our place we know,
We’re only the rank and file,
We’re not too low--to kill the foe,
But too low to touch the spoil.
_A NEW HUNTING SONG._
NOW those that are low spirited I hope won’t think it wrong,
While I sing to you a verse or two of a new hunting song;
For the hunting season has set in, or else just now begun,
Our heroes all will have their fun with the dog and gun.
_Chorus._
And a hunting they will go, will go,
And a hunting they will go, will go!
They’ll use all means, and try all schemes,
For to keep the poor man low.
With one of our brave huntsmen, I’m going to commence,
His name it was bold Bonaparte, he was a man of sense;
He hunted off from Corsica upon a game of Chance,
And hunted until he became the Emperor of France.
The next huntsman was Wellington, he’d the best of luck,
He hunted from lieutenant, till he became a Duke,
His men did fight well for him, and did his honour gain,
He done his best endeavours to have their pensions taken.
As for our hero Nelson, he hunted well for fame,
He was as bold a huntsman as e’er hunted on the main;
And for his warlike valour, he always bore the sway,
Till a cannon ball caused his downfall, all in Trafalgar Bay.
Prince Albert to this country came hunting for a wife,
He got one whom he loved dear as his own life;
Oh yes, a blooming little Queen for to dandle on his knee
With thirty thousand pounds a year paid from this country.
O’Connell he went hunting all through old Ireland’s vale,
And says he’ll go on hunting until he gets repeal.
They swear they’ll have a Parliament in Dublin once more,
And make the trade to flourish all round green Erin’s shore.
John Frost in Wales a hunting went, and well knew how to ride
He had a fine bred Chartist horse, but got on the wrong side,
If he had held the reins quite firm in his own hand,
They’d ne’er have hunted him into Van Diemans Land.
The Queen she went a hunting thro’ Scotland and France,
She hunted foreign countries through to learn the Polka dance;
Bobby Peel, he’s a huntsman bold, was never known to fail,
He hunted up the Income Tax, and then the Corn Law Bill.
They’re hunting up the poor man, he’s hunted every day,
And hawkers too, if they do not a heavy licence pay.
They won’t allow the poor to beg, it is a crime to steal,
For the one there’s the Union, for the other there’s the gaol.
So to conclude my hunting song, I hope you’ll all agree
While the poor are starved and hunted down, the rich
will have their spree.
To complain is quite a crime, for poor you’re to remain,
The Parson says, if you’re content, Heaven you’re sure to gain.
_THE WONDERFUL WONDERS OF TOWN._[64]
GOOD neighbours, pray listen--nay do but come round,
I’ve a tale that shall puzzle your heads I’ll be bound;
From London I’ve ’scap’d pretty glad to get down,
And tell you the wonderful wonders of town.
The streets ’luminated I walked every night,
And the devil a bit could I see for the light;
Such pictures, lamps, feathers, stars, anchors, and jokes,
With Boney, the devil, and all sorts of volks.
Lords, pickpockets, ladies, lamplighters, girls, boys,
I didn’t think Peace could have made such a noise.
Push’d, bump’d, lump’d, and thump’d, when I tried to retire,
I was out of the frying pan into the fire.
Then the Emperor’s fist was at every one’s call,
Till princes and kings went for nothing at all;
And, English good manners to show so polite,
We pulled ’em and hauled ’em, from morning till night.
Then the Cossack Horse Soldiers as fought with our foes,
We kill’d ’em with kindness, as all the world knows,
And gave ’em such welcome and hearty good cheer,
They’d no time to get shav’d all the time they were here.
Two jolly old lions we must not forget,
To Platoff and Blucher, how much we’re in debt;
The Mob cried, Come out, like wild beasts, ’twas so droll,
I expected to see ’em stirred up with a pole.
The Sarpentine river, it looked if so be,
All the cock boats i’ Lunnun had put out to sea;
Grown up to great ships their gay canvas now swells,
As big, pretty near, as at Saddler’s Wells.
You never see’d yet a procession so fine,
As when into the City the Kings went to dine;
I gap’d with mouth open, like many an elf,
Till no dinner I got to put in it my self.
Next Peace were proclaimed, when King Charles on his horse,
Counts the coaches as start from the old Golden Cross;
And the Herald, so call’d who cried down wars alarms,
Looked like the Kings Head stuck a top of his Arms.
Now safely return’d, for lost time I’ll make up,
So down with the bacon, and round wi’ the cup;
And I’ll drink may _Peace_ also the Yankees subdue,
And turn their _Merry ca_, into our merry cue.
One word more--of all sights that in town I did see,
There was one sight worth all the whole bundle to me,
Great Wellington’s self who has made the world ring,
With glory, God bless him, and God save the king.
_LAW._[65]
COME, listen to me a minute,
A song, I’m going to begin it,
There’s something serious in it,
So, pray attention draw,
A serious thing I thought it,
Experience, I have bought it,
Will you, or not be taught it,
I sing the charms of Law.
L--A--W. Law,
It’s met with the deuce of a claw.
_Chorus._
If you’re fond of pure vexation,
And a long procrastination,
You’re just in a situation,
To enjoy a suit at law.
When your cause is just beginning,
You only think of winning,
Attornies slyly grinning,
While your cash they draw.
With brief and consultation,
Bill and replication,
Latin and botheration,
While the Counsel loudly jaw,
J--A--W. Jaw,
Is a very great thing in law