Bismarck once told Lord Bloomfield that he had the highest opinion of Charles Mathews, the actor. It turned out that this opinion was not based on any particular admiration for Mathews's professional talent, but on his coolness during a theatrical riot which Bismarck witnessed during a visit to London. Mathews was manager of a theatre, and for want of pay, part of his company had struck work. It was impossible to perform the piece advertised, so pit and gallery grew clamorous. In the midst of the hubbub, Mathews came before the curtain and jovially announced that, although he must disappoint the audience of the comedy which they had expected, he was ready to perform anything they pleased, provided only that he could satisfy the majority. A voice from the gallery sang out: “'Box and Cox.'” “Well, that is an excellent play,” said Mathews gravely, “but before my honorable friend puts a motion for its performance, I think he should explain to the audience why he prefers it to all others.” This turned a general laugh against the “mover,” who of course became bashful and could explain nothing. Mathews then made a chaffing little speech on the comparative merits of various plays, and at length withdrew, saying that as he could discern nothing like unanimity among the audience, he thought it best that they should all agree to meet him another day, but that meanwhile those who liked to apply for their money at the doors should have it. It seems that a number of men had come to the theatre on purpose to create a disturbance, but Mathews's banter put the whole audience into good humor, and the house was emptied without any riot.[31] Bismarck has another favorite story about mobs. When the Grand Duke Constantine of Russia went as Viceroy to Poland in 1862, he was received in the streets of Warsaw with cries of “Long live the Constitution!” A Prussian, Count Perponcher, who was present, asked a vociferating Pole who “Constitutiona” was? “I suppose it's his wife,” answered the Pole. “Well, but he has children,” said Perponcher, “so you should cry: “Hurrah for Constitutiona and the little Constitutions,”” which the Pole at once did. Hearing Bismarck tell this anecdote—not for the first time probably—his son-in-law Count Rantzau, once said: “You can make a mob cry anything by paying a few men among them a mark apiece to start the shouting.” “_Nein_, but you need not waste your marks,“ demurred the Chancellor, ”_es gibt immer Esel genug, die schreien unbezahlt_.” (There are always asses to bray gratis).