TIMON ON BIMETALLISM.
Reading edition
(Adapted from Shakspeare.)
["He advocates bimetallism with the passionate ardour of a prophet promulgating a new revelation. On most subjects he is cool, analytical, and perhaps a little cynical; but on this subject he is an enthusiast."—The Times on Mr. Balfour's Speech about Bimetallism.]
Timon of London, loquitur:—
The learned pate Ducks to the golden fool; all is oblique; There's nothing level in our currency But monometallism! Gold doth lord Great lands, societies, and throngs of men. That the sun rounds the earth, that earth's a disc, Are foolish fads that Timon much disdains As duping dull mankind. But will they rank My fad—Bimetallism—along with such? I seek a dual standard; gold alone Is a most operant poison! What is here? Gold? yellow, precious, glittering gold? No, gods, I am no aureate votarist. Silver seems To me, and to wise Walsh, a fair twin-standard Fit to set up, that variable values May find stability in dual change, With a fixed ratio, which the world must find, Or our one standard, like a pirate's flag, Will lead us to disaster. Monometallism Is—Monomania. This yellow slave Will break, not knit, our Commerce. I can be Cool, analytical, even cynical On trifles—such as Separatism's sin, Or County Council Crime; but this thing stirs My tepid blood, e'en as Statistics warm The chilly soul of Goschen. Come, curst gold, Thou common ore of mankind, that putt'st odds Among the rout of nations, I will make thee Take thy right place! Thou mak'st my heart beat quick, But yet I'll bury thee: thou'lt go, strong thief, Orthodox keepers of thee cannot stand Against a passionate prophet's promulgation Of a new economic revelation. "Put up your gold!" But put up silver, too, (As Walsh, and Grenfell, and Sage Chaplin urge), Or banded Europe—some day—shall smash up Our City to financial chaos. Aye! I may talk lightly about trivial things, And cynically smile on twaddle's trifles,— Union of hearts, optimist ecstasies, Fervours, and faiths, the breeks of prisoned Pats, Coercion's bondage and such bagatelles— But on this Titan theme—Bimetallism— Timon is in hot earnest!
A Short Way with Wasps.
A plague of wasps infests the South In consequence of the hot season!— Humph! Is it torrid heat and drouth Deprive our Commons of cool reason? A plague of wasps infests the House! Its managers the matter mull, for They have not (like poor Hodge) the nous To smoke pests out with (moral) sulphur! To check Hayes Fisher's style, or Tim's tone, Mellor tries treacle; he needs brimstone.
