Punch, or The London Charivari, Vol. 153, November 7, 1917 by Various
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Various >> Punch, or The London Charivari, Vol. 153, November 7, 1917
_Enter_ Three Cooks.
_First Cook._ Thrice the dreadful message came.
_Second Cook._ Thrice the mystic buzzer buzzed.
_Third Cook._ Sergeant cries, "'Tis time, 'tis time."
_First Cook._ Round about the dixie go;
In the dense ingredients throw--
Extra bully, every lump
Pinched from some forbidden dump,
Biscuits crunched to look like flour,
Cabbage sweet and onions sour--
Make the broth as thick as glue.
The General will inspect the stew.
_All._ Fire burn and dixie bubble,
Double toil or there'll be trouble.
_Second Cook._ 'Taters in the cauldron sink,
Peeled by hands as black as ink;
Portions of a slaughtered cat,
Piece of breakfast-bacon fat,
Bits of boot and bits of stick--
Make the gruel slab and thick.
_All._ Fire burn and dixie bubble,
Double toil or there'll be trouble.
_Third Cook._ German sausage won in fight
On some dark and stormy night,
Dim and murky watercress
Stolen from a Sergeants' Mess,
Slabs of cheese and chunks of ham,
Lumps of plum and apple jam,
Bits of paper, ends of string,
Mixed with any damned thing,
In the cauldron mingle quick
So the stew be dense and thick.
_All._ Fire burn and dixie bubble,
Double toil or there'll he trouble. [_Exeunt._
SCENE III.--_Outside kitchen. Alarums._
_Enter_ Orderly Corporal.
_Orderly Corporal._ Here's a pretty pass. Eyewash,
eyewash, eyewash. And such a running to and fro and a go
this way and a go that way, and a burnishing up of old
brass and a shouting of horrid words, as though the Devil
himself were inspecting his own furnace. Faith, an I
were eyewashing Beelzebub I could catch it no hotter.
[_Shouting within._
Anon, anon. I will eyewash it no further. [_Exit._
_Flourish. Enter_ Colonel, Adjutant, Quartermaster
and Sergeant-Cook.
_Colonel._ Is all prepared?
_Sergeant-Cook._ The dinners would content
RHONDDA himself.
_Quartermaster._ The General comes.
_Flourish. Enter_ General _and_ Attendants.
_General._ Good Colonel,
Our greetings are the warmer for the thought
Of visits past.
_Colonel._ The service that we owe
In doing pays itself. Will you inspect
The dinners?
_General._ First we'll greet the Adjutant,
Whom well we recollect.
_Adjutant._ This is an honour
Which makes our labours light. Will you be pleased
To inspect the dinners?
_General._ Yes, but let us first
Discuss the general welfare of the troops
Whose good's our care.
_Sergeant-Cook (aside to Colonel)._ The time is getting long;
The stew's congealing fast.
_Colonel._ Good General,
Your grace toward our people doth confound
Th' expression of our gratitude. The hour
For dinner is at hand. An you would grace
The issue with your presence it would make
The meal the sweeter.
_General (aside)._ There doth seem to be
More than politeness in these invitations.
(_To Colonel_) I am no cook to judge by sight and touch
The flavour of a dish. Issue the dinners
To all the rank and file, that so my pleasure
In marking their expressions of content
Be equal to the praise I shall bestow.
_Voice within._ Help! help! The cooks have fainted in the stew.
_Adjutant._ They'll not be noticed.
_Colonel._ Now hath fortune proved
My master. I'll not live a slave to Chance.
[_Eats some of the stew and dies._
_General._ Conscience hath claimed her toll and is content.
We'll go inspect another regiment.
CURTAIN.
* * * * *
A member of the Chancery Bar consults us on the following point: "I
was awakened," he says, "by my dog during a recent air-raid. He was so
annoyed that he consumed the whole of _Lewin on Trusts_ and commenced
_Tudor on Wills_, and is now suffering from severe indigestion. Have I
or has the dog any equitable remedy?"
* * * * *
[Illustration: TERRORS OF THE SCOTTISH LANGUAGE.
_Housemaid in Glasgow Hotel_. "YE CANNA GANG TO THE BATHROOM THE NOO."
_Sassenach_. "WHY NOT?"
_Housemaid_. "THERE'S A BODY IN THE BATH."]
* * * * *
THE NEW MRS. MARKHAM.
IV.
CONVERSATION ON CHAPTER LXXI.
_Mary_. You spoke, Mamma, of CHAUCER being the Father of English
poetry. Was there _any_ English poetry before the discoveries of Lord
EDWARD MARSH?
_Mrs. M_. Certainly, my dear. CHAUCER was our first eminent poet,
but, as a distinguished American critic has observed, he could not
spell. This greatly interfered with his popularity. Then there was
SHAKSPEARE, who wrote quaint old-fashioned plays quite unsuitable
for filming, but nevertheless enjoyed a certain fame until it was
proved that he never existed and that SHAKESPEARE was the name of a
syndicate; or that if he did exist he was somebody else; when all
interest in his work naturally evaporated. The abolition of rhyme,
about the year 1920, gave a fresh impetus to English poetry, and now,
as you know, almost anyone can write it fluently, whereas formerly the
easiest poems were written with the greatest difficulty. Indeed one
reads of some old poets who were not able to produce a mere hundred
lines in a day. Under the "free-verse" system, some of the Palustrine
(or Marshy) School have been known to produce as many as three
thousand lines in a day and to earn in a week as much as MILTON, an
old poet of the seventeenth century, received for the whole of his
greatest work, on which he was engaged for years.
_Richard_. You have often talked about people going into sanctuary.
What does it mean?
_Mrs. M_. Originally every church, abbey, or consecrated place was a
sanctuary, and all persons who had committed crimes or were otherwise
in fear of their lives might secure themselves from danger by getting
into them. But in the reign which we have been discussing it came to
be used specially of the House of Commons from the number of tiresome
and objectionable people who sought refuge there, because of the
freedom from legal penalties which they enjoyed. Once safe in the
House of Commons they said and even did things which, if they had
been said or done in public, or even in private, would have exposed
them either to prosecution or personal chastisement. Ultimately
the nuisance became so great that the privilege of sanctuary was
abolished, and the tone of the House of Commons greatly improved.
_Mary_. I could not quite understand that story about the King and the
public jester.
_Mrs. M_. In earlier reigns it was customary for kings and nobles to
have in their retinue some one whose business it was to play the fool,
and who was privileged to say or do anything that was ridiculous for
the sake of diverting his master. Although this practice had died out
the privilege was usurped by a certain number of writers and speakers,
who sought to attain notoriety by making themselves as unpleasant or
ridiculous as possible on every occasion. It requires some cleverness
to be a great fool, and though some of these public buffoons were
clever men the majority had more malice than wit, and in time
exhausted the patience of the people. Finally, in order to protect
them from the violence of the infuriated populace, the Government were
obliged to deport the chief offenders to the Solomon Islands, where
cannibalism then prevailed.
_George_. Did they play on anything else besides mouth-organs in those
days?
_Mrs. M_. They had many curious musical instruments which are now
entirely obsolete. Of these the most popular was the pianoforte, a
large wooden box with a long horizontal keyboard, which the player
struck with his fingers. Considerable and sometimes even distressing
dexterity was attained by the performers, who indulged in all sorts of
strange antics and gestures. The exercise was found to be remarkably
beneficial to the growth of the hair, but it had compensating
disadvantages, leading to cramps, dislocations and other troubles.
Ultimately pianoforte playing was suppressed, largely owing to the
exertions of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Elephants,
the tusks of that animal being in great request for the manufacture
of the keys.
_Richard_. I shall never go to the Zoological Gardens without
rejoicing over the suppression of the pianoforte.
_Mrs. M_. Another favourite instrument was the violin, a small and
curiously shaped apparatus fitted with four strings, which, when
rubbed or scraped with horsehair tightly stretched on a narrow wooden
frame, were made to produce sounds imitating the cries of various
animals, especially the mewing of a cat, to perfection. But as the
timbre of the instrument did not lend itself to successful mechanical
reproduction by the gramophone it fell into disuse.
* * * * *
[Illustration: SCENE.--_Basement during an air-raid. Loud noise
without_.
_The Right Kind of Boy_ (_with great animation_). "MUMMY, ARE WE
WINNING?"]
* * * * *
PUNCH'S ROLL OF HONOUR.
We are very sorry to learn that Captain A.W. LLOYD, Royal Fusiliers,
who for some time illustrated the Essence of Parliament, has been
badly wounded in East Africa. We join his many friends in England and
South Africa in sending him our sincerest hopes for his restoration to
health and strength.
* * * * *
"HE-WHO-MUST-BE-OBEYED."
SIR ARTHUR YAPP, Sir ARTHUR YAPP,
He is a formidable chap;
He says the best of this year's fashions
Is to obey his rule for rations.
To every man and every maid
Of every sort of social grade,
Sir ARTHUR YAPP, Sir ARTHUR YAPP.
He _is_--to put the thing with snap--
He-Who-_Must_-Be-Obeyed.
Sir ARTHUR YAPP, Sir ARTHUR YAPP,
He simply doesn't care a rap
For any one--his only passion's
Compelling us to keep our rations;
Downrightly he demands our aid;
He will not have the troops betrayed.
Sir ARTHUR YAPP, Sir ARTHUR YAPP,
He _is_--the right man in the gap--
He-Who-_MUST_-Be-Obeyed.
Sir ARTHUR YAPP, Sir ARTHUR YAPP,
He says the way to change the map--
The way that all of us can smash Huns--
Is simply sticking to our rations;
Whereas the Hun will have us flayed
Unless the waste of food is stayed.
Sir ARTHUR YAPP, Sir ARTHUR YAPP,
He _is_ right through this final lap--
He-Who-_MUST_-Be-Obeyed.
W.B.
* * * * *
"TO THE EDITOR OF 'THE TIMES.'
Sir,--Last Sunday evening I read your leader of October 24 as part
of my sermon to my village congregation. It went home."--_Times_.
_The Times_ leader-writer should cultivate a brighter style, more
calculated to hold the interest of a congregation.
* * * * *
[Illustration: AT BAY.
ENGLAND AND FRANCE (_to their comrade_). "STICK TO IT!"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Tommy_. "WHERE DID YOU GET THAT BUNCH?"
_Australian_. "OH, I DIDN'T GET 'EM--THE DAWG BROUGHT 'EM IN."]
* * * * *
ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.
_Monday, October 29th_.--For once Parliament repelled the gibe of its
critics that it has ceased to represent the people. Lords and Commons
united in praise of our sailors and soldiers and all the other gallant
folk who are helping us to win the War, and passed the formal Votes of
Thanks without a dissentient voice.
As no eloquence could be adequate to such a theme--not even that of
PERICLES or LINCOLN, as Mr. ASQUITH tactfully remarked--fewer and
briefer speeches might have sufficed. The PRIME MINISTER painted the
lily a little thickly, though no one would have had him omit his
picturesque narrative of the first battle of Ypres--I hope some of its
few survivors were among the soldiers in the Gallery--or his tributes
to the Navy and the Merchant Service. Nor did one grudge Mr. REDMOND'S
paean in praise of the Irish troops. It's not his fault, at any rate,
that there aren't more of them.
Seen at its best in the afternoon, the House descended to the depths
on the adjournment, when Mr. PONSONBY, Mr. RAMSAY MACDONALD and
Mr. KING badgered the HOME SECRETARY for the best part of an hour
because in the exercise of his duty he had had some of their friends'
correspondence opened and read. In ordinary times Members are very
jealous, and rightly so, of this official espionage. The case of Sir
JAMES GRAHAM and MAZZINI'S letters was raked up and quoted for all it
was worth--and a little more; for, as Sir GEORGE CAVE reminded us,
even on that occasion a Select Committee supported the action of the
Government. The fact is that, when you are fighting for freedom _en
gros_, individual liberties must of necessity be curtailed. Knowing
that our letters in war-time are liable to inspection, the wise among
us stick to postcards. As Mr. PONSONBY assures us that he and his
friends have nothing to conceal, let them do likewise.
One missed Mr. SNOWDEN, usually to the fore on these occasions. An
incident earlier in the afternoon perhaps accounted for his absence.
By way of bolstering up a charge of harshness against the HOME
SECRETARY he mentioned that a deported German had "a son serving in
the British Army." The Minister frankly admitted it. "The son," he
said, "a British subject, who endeavoured to avoid military service,
was arrested, and is serving in a noncombatant unit." _Exit_ Mr.
SNOWDEN.
_Tuesday. October 30th_. I strongly suspect Major NEWMAN and Mr. REDDY
of collaborating, like the "Two Macs" of music-hall fame. No other
theory will explain the gallant Major's well-feigned annoyance at what
he called "the assumption of military rank by clergymen and members of
the theatrical profession" connected with cadet-corps. Mr. MACPHERSON
supplied the official answer, namely, that gentlemen holding
cadet-commissions are entitled to wear service dress; but the real
object of the question was revealed when Brother REDDY from the
backbenches piped out, "Does that apply to sham officers wearing
uniform in this House?" There was a roar of laughter, and Major NEWMAN
blushed his appreciation.
I can imagine no more hopeless task than to plead the cause of
Bulgaria in present circumstances; yet Mr. NOEL BUXTON cheerfully
essays it whenever he gets an opportunity. This time he attempted to
read into a recent utterance of the FOREIGN SECRETARY agreement with
his own views.
Mr. BALFOUR'S reply, in effect, was "What make you here, you little
Bulgar boy?" He maintained that, while not as "dull and cautious" as
he had meant it to be, the speech referred to in no way bore out Mr.
BUXTON'S assertions. Then he proceeded in characteristic fashion to
knock together the heads of the pro-Bulgarians and the other Balkan
theorists, and declared in conclusion that, while sharing the desire
that Bulgaria should come out of the War without a grievance, he was
not going to purchase that satisfaction by the betrayal of those who
had sacrificed everything they possessed in the cause of the Allies--a
declaration which, in view of recent rumours, the House as a whole
heard with relief.
_Wednesday, October 31st_.--No future GILBERT shall be able to write
that--
"The House of Peers, throughout the war,
Did nothing in particular,
And did it very well,"
for, thanks to the pertinacity of Lord LOREBURN and Lord SELBORNE,
their lordships have done something very particular. They have
proposed that the PRIME MINISTER shall announce, with any honour
conferred, the reasons why he has recommended it, having previously
satisfied himself that a contribution to party funds was not one of
them. If Lord LOREBURN had had his way the resolution would have
been a good deal stronger, but Lord CURZON, upon whose majestic calm
this subject has a curiously ruffling effect, refused to allow the
retention of words implying that any Minister had ever been a party to
a corrupt bargain.
The debate was anything but dull, and some piquant revelations--of
course all at second-hand--were made by the highly respectable peers
who took part in it. It would have been livelier still if some of
the more recent creations could have been induced to tell the full
story of "How I got my Peerage." But they are modest fellows, and
unanimously refrained.
_Thursday, November 1st_.--A full House heard Sir ERIC GEDDES make his
maiden speech, or rather read his maiden essay, for he rarely deviated
from his type-script. A very good essay it was, full of well arranged
information, and delivered in a strong clear voice that never faltered
during an hour's recital. If we were to believe some of the critics
the British Navy is directed by a set of doddering old gentlemen who
are afraid to let it go at the Germans and cannot even safeguard our
commerce from attack. The truth, as expounded by the FIRST LORD, is
quite different. Despite the jeremiads of superannuated sailors and
political longshoremen, the Admiralty is not going to Davy Jones's
locker, but under its present chiefs, who have, with very few
exceptions, seen service in this War, maintains and supplements its
glorious record. Save for an occasional game of "tip and run"--as in
the case of the North Sea convoy--enemy vessels have disappeared from
the surface of the oceans; and "the long arm of the British Navy"
is now stretching down into the depths and up into the skies in
successful pursuit of them. If the nation hardly realises yet what
it owes to the men of the Fleet and their comrades of the auxiliary
Services it is because their work is done with "such thoroughness and
so little fuss," and, as Mr. ASQUITH put it, "in the twilight and not
in the limelight."
* * * * *
[Illustration: SCENE: _Charing Cross_.--"BUY A BIT O' SHRAPNEL,
MISTER?"]
* * * * *
"Alderman ---- was fined L5 for aiding and abetting his
game-keeper in feeding pheasants with guano."--_Liverpool
Daily Post_.
He must have thought it would be good for their crops.
* * * * *
From a New Zealand official report:
"When sawing a piece of timber F----'s left thumb came
into contact with saw, cutting it."
People with thumbs like this ought not to be allowed to handle
delicate instruments.
* * * * *
"The first draft sale of the Gloucestershire Old Spots
speaks volumes for the black and white pig.. .. Nor must the
beautifully-marked pig 'Bagborough Charm VII.,' farrowed
1817, be forgotten."--_Farmer and Stockbreeder._
It seems, however, to have been overlooked for some time.
* * * * *
"'By heavens, it's the Germans!' cried Captain Jansson later,
at last awake to the truth. 'Call all hands and make for
the boats.' He turned the wheel hard astern and stopped the
ship."--_Daily Mail._
Something had gone wrong, we suppose, with the foot-brake.
* * * * *
"---- ---- was born in 1883, and received his musical education,
first in Dresden, and subsequently in England with one of
the most orthodox of the English professors, as a result of
which he entered the Diplomatic Service in 1909 as Honorary
Attache."--_The Chesterian_.
We hope this will silence the complaints as to the insufficiency of
our diplomatists' education.
* * * * *
HOW TO BRIGHTEN UP THE THEATRE.
"You want, I take it," said the stranger to the manager, "to make your
theatre the most interesting in London?"
"Naturally," the manager replied. "I do all I can to make it so, as
it is."
"Perhaps," said the stranger; "we shall see. But I have it in my power
to make it vastly more interesting than any theatre has ever been."
"You have a play?" the manager inquired; amending this, after another
glance, to "You know of a play?"
"Play? No. I'm not troubling about plays," said the caller.
"Plays--what are plays? No, I'm bringing you a live idea."
"But I don't wish to make any change in the style of my performances,"
said the manager. "If you're thinking of a new kind of entertainment
for me--super-cinema, or that 'real revue' which authors are always
threatening me with--I don't want it. I intend to keep my stage for
the legitimate drama."
The stranger had been growing more and more restless. "My dear Sir,"
he now protested, "do let us understand each other. Have I ever
mentioned the word 'stage'? Have I? No. Your stage is nothing to
me; it doesn't come into the matter at all. Do what you like on the
stage, but let me tackle the front of the house. That's the real
battle-ground. My scheme, which I bring to you first of all, because
I think of you as the least unenlightened of all London managers, is
concerned solely with the audience. Will you promise not to mention
it for a week if I unfold it to you?"
The manager promised.
"Very well," said the other, settling down to business, "Let us begin
by looking at audiences. What are they made of? Human beings. What
kind of human beings? The nobs and the mob. What is the favourite
occupation of the nobs? Recognising other nobs. What comes next?
Seeing who the other nobs have got with them. What is the favourite
occupation of the mob? Identifying nobs and saying how disappointed
they are with their appearance. Isn't that so?"
"More or less," said the manager.
"Very well," the other continued. "Now, then, what do you do for the
audiences in your theatre between the Acts?"
"There is an excellent orchestra," said the manager.
"I have heard it," replied his visitor drily. "Most of the music
played is composed by the conductor, who conducts with the bow of
his violin. No, Sir, that is not enough to do for an audience in the
intervals. I warn you that the whole question of intervals will come
up soon, and the cleverest manager will be the one who does most to
make them amusing. But that's another matter. My scheme for you is
to provide more than mere amusement, it is to enable your theatre to
partake of some of the quality and some of the success of the great
picture newspapers."
"How do you mean?" the manager asked, leaning forward. The word
"success" galvanised him.
"Like this," said the enthusiast. "You grant that the proper study
of mankind is man--as the POPE recently said? You grant an intense
curiosity as to everybody else being implanted in the human breast?
Very well. This, then, is my scheme. You must have each stall legibly
numbered so that the whole house behind it and above it can see the
number. The boxes must be numbered too. You then instal a printer with
a little press somewhere behind the scenes, and to him is brought soon
after the curtain rises a list of the names of all the box and stall
holders, which he will print off in time for the assistants to sell
them all over the house after Act I. This distribution will dispose of
the first interval, and incidentally bring in a nice little sum for
cigars and champagne for your business visitors, a new hat for your
leading lady, and so forth."
"By the way," said the manager, "won't you smoke? These are mild."
"Thank you," said the other. "Very well," he continued, "the next
interval will be wholly spent in the exciting and delightful task of
identifying the nobs, in which the nobs themselves will take a part.
And if there is still a third interval it will be equally amusingly
filled by conversation as to the pasts or costumes of the more famous
of the female nobs who are present--an interchange of opinion as to
the lowness of their necks, conjectures as to the genuineness of their
hair, and so forth. Do you see?"
The manager went to the sideboard and brought back some glasses and a
bottle. "Yes," he said, "I see. There's something in what you say. But
you don't explain how the names are to be obtained?"
"How?" exclaimed the other. "Why, ask for them, to be sure. You'll
have to begin with a few blanks, of course, but directly it gets known
that you're publishing them during the evening they'll all come in.
Bless your soul, I know them! and if the nobs don't tumble to it the
snobs will, and they're numerically strong enough to keep any play
running. You won't have to worry about the play. As for the back rows
of the stalls, where you put the people from the other theatres, why,
they'll absolutely push their visiting-cards at you. What do you say?"
"I think it's ingenious," said the manager, "and not to be dismissed
lightly. But I don't see anything to prevent all the other managers
copying it."
"There isn't," said the inventor. "Nothing ever has been done or will
be done that can prevent theatrical managers from copying each other.
It's chronic. But you'll be the first, remember that; and the pioneer
often has some credit. You'll get the start, and that means a lot. For
some months, at any rate, it will be your theatre to which the snobs
will crowd."