["There is no doubt whatever that a large number of Englishmen
abroad conduct themselves in a manner which brings discredit on our
country.... Such demonstrations, indeed, are taken to mean that our
countrymen desire thereby to show their consciousness of superiority
over foreigners.... We do not want "HARRYS" to disgrace us,
no matter whether the "trippers" ride in first, second, or third-class
carriages."
_The "Echo" on "English Tourists Abroad."_]
Dear BERTIE,--I _have_ got the needle, and got it exceedingly sharp.
This 'ARRY--I mean the cad-cockney well known to "the 'Eath and the
'Arp"--
Is becomin' no end of a nuisance all round; but I think you'll agree
It is playin' it pretty low down when they mix up that mongrel with me!
One would think the dropped aitch and apostrophe ought to have labelled
_that_ brand,
Which the Comics, in picture and patter, have scattered all over the
land;
But surely some new Trades Mark Act must be wanted exceedingly bad
When HARRY, the travellin' Briton, is jumbled with 'ARRY the Cad.
Just glance at the cutting enclosed. Now I travel, in silks, as you know,
And Paris and Lyons to me are familiar as Bradford or Bow.
But a gent _is_ a gent, though in trade, and abroad just as much as at
home,
And the manners that pass in Pall Mall _ought_ to do for Berlin or for
Rome!
I'm sick, my dear fellow, of readin' about British Cads on the trip,
And the way that they rough-up the foreigners. Every French barber or
snip,
With a back that's all hinges and angles, will read us a lesson on form,
And the penny-a-liners at home back him up, and we--bow to the storm!
It's rot, and there's no other word for it! _I_ mean rebellin' for one.
All this talk about 'Arries Abroad, which the ink-slingers think such
prime fun,
Is all unpatriotic knock-under, poor tame cosmopolitan cant.
And as much a true bill as the chat of that sour Mrs. ORMISTON CHANT.
If there's anythin' gives me the hump, it is hearin' Old England run
down;
And your Rads, and your Cads, and your Cocktails, all haters of Class
and the Crown,
Are eternally bastin' JOHN BULL on his bullyin' airs and stiff back.
O it gives me the very go-nimble to hear their contemptible clack!
They charge us with bounce and bad manners, with trottin' around in
queer togs,
With chaffin' the waiters at _cafés_, and treatin' the porters like dogs.
They say we raise shines in their churches, and mock their processions
and priests;
In fact, if you'd only believe them you'd class us as bullies and beasts.
Now _I_ say a Briton's a Briton wherever he happens to go.
He has got to be "taken as written," with freedom his briar to blow,
His flannels and bowler to sport, his opinions and tastes to express,
As he would in Hyde Park or the Strand, _and he won't be contented
with less_.
He takes "_Rule, Britannia_" along with him, young JOHNNY BULL does,
you bet;
And it's no use for Germans to grunt, and it's no use for Frenchmen
to fret.
We've got to be _free_, my dear fellow,--no matter if welcome or not,--
And to slang us as "'Arries Abroad" _for_ that freedom is all tommyrot.
That Johnny who writes about 'ARRY--in _Punch_ don'tcher know--is a Rad,
I can see it as plain as be blowed; and he labels the lot of us "Cad",
If we've patriot hearts and high spirits, talk slang, and are fond of a
spree,
But _his_ 'ARRY's no class, and it's like his dashed cheek to confound
him with _me!_
He's done heaps of mischief, that joker, along of his levellin' trick,
Of tarrin' the classes and masses, without any judgment or pick,
With one sweepin' smudge of his tar-brush. Cad! Cad! Cad!--all over
the shop!--
I'm sure _he_'s a bloomin' outsider, and wish _Punch_ would put on
the stop.
_I_ like easy ways and slang-patter, _I_'m Tory and patriot all round,--
As every true Englishman _must_ be who isn't an ass or a hound,--
But your ill-spellin', aitch-droppin' howler, with "two quid a week"--as
he brags--
Isn't _me_, but a Battersea bounder with big bulgy knees and loud bags.
I _did_ do the boulevards once in striped knickers and straw, I admit;
And once in a Catholic church I will own I did laugh fit to split.
But then, foreign tastes are so funny, and foreign religions so rum;
And if they _will_ play mumbo-jumbo, how _can_ a smart Johnny keep mum?
It is all the dashed foreigners' fault. They don't relish _our_
up-and-down style;
They smirk and they play monkey-tricks and then scowl if we happen to
smile.
They hate us like poison, and swear 'tis because of our "swagger and
bounce,"
But it's BULL'S fightin' weight that they funk, and by gad, they know
that to an ounce!
There! I've let off the steam, and feel better! We need "Coalition"
all round,
We gents, against Cad-dom, _and_ Rad-dom,--_they_ don't differ much,
I'll be bound--
We've got it in Parliament--rippin'!--and if the same scheme we can carry
In social arrangements, why _then_ 'ARRY won't be confounded with