THE BUDGET OF 1860.

Out spoke the gallant Chancellor, the Chancellor of X,
While all the listening Swells outstretched their senatorial necks:
“At present, Mr. Massey, – and I say it from my soul,-
We’re all, financially at least, in what I call a Hole.
‘Twixt taxes dead, and duties off, and awful outlays too,
We must really scratch our heads, boys, and consider what to do.
There’s China, whose misconduct will compel us to disburse,
And France, to whom we’ve wed ourselves for better or for worse:
Each has her pull, though, luckily, there comes a little gain,
Whence none would have expected it, – a debt is paid by Spain.
But, on the whole account, I find, I clear myself, about,
Though turning ignominiously my pockets inside out;
And to intelligence like yours, of course, it’s very clear,
That we must make, and instantly, provision for the year.
“Well, now, the country’s very rich, and richer every day,
There’s money to be got at, but the question is, the Way.
Yes, Ways and Means are now the point, but ’twill be also seen
That Parliament must choose a Way the People won’t call Mean.
We’re all exceeding prosperous, as Income Papers tell,
And even ‘Mr. Farmer’ owns he’s doing pretty well;
But, bless my soul, my Affables, if you go on to pitch
Your money right and left, you know, you never will be rich.
Withing the last six years you wealth has taken to increase
Above Sixteen per Cent., – but then we haven’t kept the peace;
And how d’ye think Expenditure’s expanded for that date?
The figure of per-centage, Blessed Friends, if Fifty-Eight!
It’s almost needless to remark that this will never do,
And for economical reforms the people look to you.
Well, we must fill the gap up, and a real statesman scorns
To shilly-shally, and he takes the bull by both his horns
(That is a dig for Dizzy, whose financial end and aim
Was the making things agreeable by postponing every claim);
So put your shoulders to the wheel, and let us shove along:
This Eighteen Sixty is a year for doing something strong.
Reforms, commercial ones I mean, to which you should aspire,
Will make John Bull more willing to fork out what we require -
He really likes the Income-Tax, although upon his tongue
There’s grumble, and one person wrote that ‘Gladstone should be hung!’
“Now, on we go to Turkey, and d’abord, it seems to me
That I shan’t touch the duties on sugar and on tea;
One would have liked to take them off, but as I’ve often said,
The real way to help the poor’s by stimulating trade.
“Then comes the Treaty. Inter alia, France will soon let in
(At p. c. 30) sugar, crystal, iron, coal, and skin,
Brass wire, and dyewoods, china, glass, cotton and cloth, and soap,
Hoisery, steel, and carriages, machinery, brandy, rope,
And a long list of other things to hammer, drink, or munch,
I very much regret to add, she will not let in Punch.
We on the other hand propose to let in, duty free,
Sulphuric acid, agates, arms, corks, and embroidery,
Clocks, gloves, hats, canes, quinine, brocade, raw fruits, and China ware,
Oils, and pianos, perfumes, grapes, and all things made of hair.
Then, as to wine, we’ll let it in at duties much brought down,
Three bob a gallon for the best that can be bought in town,
Brandy at eight and tuppence to the British shore shall come,
And the same duty fall on French as on Colonial rum.
There is the Treaty, meant to bind two nations very tight,
I hope our project will have luck, I’m certain it is right;
Of course each separate interest will attack me for the plan,
But that’s all beestly Selfishness, a vice innate in man.
For such objectors I must say profound contempt I feel,
Let’s cut up private fatted calves, and help the Common-Weal.
Good wholesome wines of France let’s bring to everybody’s door,
Let him who never drank it drink, who drinks all the more.
Let’a swamp the nasty African, not African at all,
And be the British wines henceforth doomed to the servants’ hall.
Good wine is medicine – then how hard upon the labouring poor,
When ill to drink the public-house decoction, so impure -
The wine our poor sick sailors get’s as grimy as Old Nick,
Upon my honour, gentlemen, it nearly made me sick.
I’m sure I touch you to the heart, I’ll only add that soon
Trade will find out our Treaty is a most enormous Boon,
“And now to knock some duties off, a process that must please:
Henceforth be Butter free, and Tallow, Nuts, and Eggs, and Cheese,
The Orange and the Lemon, mark, the Nutmeg and the Date
Shall cease in future to bring in revenue to the State,
With Foreign Paper, Liquorice, and many a thing that sounds
A trifle, yet the whole bring near Four Hundred Thousand Pounds.
That same amount, too, I release, – I always said I should, -
By knocking off the Timber Duty. Hear that, Charley Wood?
Then, on some other articles of great and daily use
The duty we will not take off, but largely will reduce:
Currants and Raisins, Figs and Hops: I think that I may say,
About a Million is the total sum I throw away.
“How to make up for all these boons. A plan as good as any,-
Charges on every Package shipped, or brought to shore, one penny;
It is a trifle, which I call a Registration Fee,-
Three Hundred Thousand Pounds, my Coves, that trifle brings to me.
The system that’s called Warehousing – it’s very full of ‘jargon,’
But I’ve a plan for taxing it – you’ll find I’ve got a bargain.
Some chicory duty, and some stamps will bring me in some aid,
And then I’ve got a plan will rile the Witlers, I’m afraid,
I mean to let Confectioners, likewise the Slap-Bang Line,
Take out a licence to supply their guests with beer and wine;
And little game certificates I’ll sell to Cockney shots
Who shoot but for a week or two – I’m told that there are lots,
And when I’ve added that I’ll stamp a cheque, thought drawn by Self,
I’ve told you all my Little Games for pocketing the pelf,
So now I’ll burst upon you like a roaring boar or Aper,
I mean, my boys, Abolishing the Duty upon Paper.
There goes a Million – never mind – let’s act like honest men -
The Pen does justice to us all, do justice to the Pen.
“One way or other we shall lose Two Millions, rather more.
How shall we get that money back – that mighty sum restore?
I’ll tell you. Take the credits up which Malt and Hops enjoy,
Screw up John Barleycorn, he’s been too much indulged a boy.
Nearly a million and a half by this means we obtain -
Then, the beloved old Income-Tax must go on once again,
It is as nice as Ninepence, but we’ll raise it to the rank
Of such a pretty coin of France – we’ll make the Tax a Franc.
There is at once a mine from which our losses we’ll supply -
And such a graceful compliment to our adored Ally.
“So there’s my scheme. I’ve often read that Queens in times of old
Among their subjects scattered showers of silver and of gold,
That was a goodly sight, no doubt, but ’tis a goodlier sight
To see this Council of our Queen assembled here to-night,
Enabled by Heaven’s Providence to fling, with liberal hand,
Such boons as I suggest you scatter broadcast o’er the land.”
Thus amid all those orators, of whom he’s Lord and Rex,
Outspake our gallant Chancellor, the Chancellor of X.

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