Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 156, April 16, 1919 by Various
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Various >> Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 156, April 16, 1919
When HALL CAINE rules a nation
As Superman of Man,
His subjects will assure us
In daily dance and chorus:
"Ere HALL presided o'er us,
Men read him as they ran.
For once his circulation
Spread over Seven Seas."
Yet memory by chance errs
In these ecstatic dancers--
Oh, did he edit _Answers_,
Or write "Callisthenes"?
* * * * *
OUR HELPFUL CONTEMPORARIES.
"But the most pressing of all the questions with which the Peace
Congress has to deal is the settlement of terms of peace with
Germany."--_Nottingham Guardian_.
* * * * *
"LIFE'S LITTLE MARVELS.
"A family of eight was stated to be living on L3 a week in the
Bow County Court, and counsel said it was a marvel how they did
it."--_Bradford Daily Argus_.
It is supposed that they take it in turns to sleep on the Bench.
* * * * *
"A Republic is derported to have been declared at Zagazig. In
Cairo stdikes have added to the difficulties of the public, the
latest being one by the cabddivers. Crowds ottempted to storm
the Government printing works, but were dispersed by the
military."--_Daily Paper_.
Not, however, until they had worked some havoc among the type.
* * * * *
THE MUD LARKS.
I was motoring homewards across the old line. A ghost-peopled dusk was
crawling over the devastation and desolation that is Vimy, and in the
distance the bare bones of St. Eloy loomed like a spectre skeleton
against the frosty after-glow. We hummed past Thelus cross-roads,
dipped downhill and, _hey presto_! all of a sudden I was in China.
(No, not Neuville-St.-Vaast; China, China, place where they eat
birds'-nests and puppy-dogs' tails.) There were coolies from some
salvage company all over the place, perched on heaps of broken
masonry, squatting along the ditch side, banked ten-deep in the
road--tall villainous-looking devils, very intently watching
something. I pulled up, partly to avoid killing them and partly to see
what it was all about.
It was an open-air theatre. They had built it on the ruins of an
_estaminet_, roofed it over with odds and ends of tin and tarpaulin,
and the play was on. There was the orchestra against the back-cloth,
rendering selections from popular Pekin revues on the drum, cymbal and
one-stringed fiddle. There were the actors apparelled in the gorgeous
costumes of old Cathay strutting mechanically through their parts, the
female impersonators squeaking in shrill falsetto and putting in a lot
of subtle fan-work. And there was the ubiquitous property-man drifting
in and out among the performers, setting his fantastic house in order.
We were actually within a mile of the Vimy Ridge, but we might have
been away on the sunny side of Suez, deep within the mysterious heart
of Canton City.
"Good as a three-ring circus, ain't it?" said an English voice at my
side; "most of their plays run on for nine months or so, but this
particular show only lasts six weeks, the merest curtain-raiser."
I turned towards the speaker and looked full upon the beak nose, cleft
cheek and bristling red moustache of an old friend. "Good Lord, The
Beachcomber!" I breathed. He started, peered at me and growled,
"Captain Dawnay-Devenish, if it's all the same to you, Mister blooming
Lieutenant."
* * * * *
In the year 1907 John Fanshawe Dawnay-Devenish arrived in a certain
Far Eastern port, deck passenger aboard a Dutch tramp out of Batavia.
The Volendam mate accompanied him to the gang-plank, shaking a size
eleven fist: "Now yous, get, see?... an' iv yous gome bag...!" He
ground his horse-teeth and made unpleasant noises in his throat.
"Shouldn't dream of risking it, old dear," replied John Fanshawe
pleasantly, "not on your venerable coffee-grinder anyhow--not until
she gets a navigator." He kissed his nicotined fingers to the
exploding Hollander and strolled off down the wharf, whistling "_Nun
trink ich Schnapps_."
Arrived in the European quarter he smoothed what creases he could out
of his sole suit of drills, whitened his soggy topee and frayed canvas
shoes with a piece of chalk purloined from a billiard saloon, bluffed
a drink out of an inebriated ship's engineer and snatched a free lunch
on the strength of it. Thus fortified he visited the British Consul,
and by means of somewhat soiled letters proved that he really was a
Dawnay-Devenish of the Dorset Dawnay-Devenishes (who should be in no
way confused with the Devenish-Dawnays of Chipping-Banbury or the
Devenishe d'Awnay-Dawnays of Upper Tooting; the Dorset branch alone
possessing the privilege, granted by letters patent of ETHELRED the
Unready, of drinking the King's bathwater every Maunday Tuesday of
Leap Year).
Awed by the name--was there not a Dawnay-Devenish occupying a plump
armchair in the Colonial Office at the time?--the Consul parted
with five hundred dollars (Mex.). Next time the yield was not so
satisfactory, not by two hundred and fifty dollars. At the end of
a month, the Consul having proved a broken reed only good for
five-dollar touches at considerable intervals, it behoved our hero to
seek some fresh source of income. He cast up-river in search of it and
disappeared from civilised ken for seven merciful years.
In June, 1914, he beat back into port in a fancifully decorated junk,
minus one ear and two fingers, but plus a cargo of jingling genuine
money. He hired the bridal suite in the leading hotel, got hold of a
fleet of motor cars and a host of boon companions, lived on a diet
of champagne cocktails and splashed himself about with the carefree
abandon of a dancing dervish.
By the middle of July he was "on the beach" again and once more began
to haunt the Consular office babbling of his influential relations and
his "temporary embarrassment."
When war broke out he had thrown up the sponge altogether and "gone
yellow"; was living from hand to mouth among the Chinese. At the
end of August a ship touched at that Far Eastern port, picking up
volunteers for the Western Front. The port contributed a goodly
number, but there remained one berth vacant. The long-suffering Consul
had a stroke of inspiration. Here was a means of at once swelling
the man-power of his country and ridding himself of a pestilent
ne'er-do-well. His boys, searching far and wide, discovered John
Fanshawe in the back premises of a Malay go-down, oblivious to all
things, and bore him inanimate aboard ship.
In this manner did our hero answer The Call.
In due course he appeared in our reserve squadron and was detailed
to my troop. It did not take me many days to realise that I was up
against the most practised malingerer in the British (or any
other) army. Did a fatigue prove too irksome; did the jumps in the
riding-school loom too large; did the serjeant speak a harsh word unto
him, "The Beachcomber" promptly went sick. Malaria was his long suit.
By aid of black arts learned during those seven years sojourning with
the heathen Chinee he could switch malaria (or a plausible imitation
of it) on or off at will and fool the M.O.'s every time. I used to
interview them about it, but got scant sympathy. The Healers' Union
brooks no interference from outsiders.
"Look here, that brute's bluffing you," I would protest.
To which they would make reply, "Can you give us any scientific
explanation of how a man can fake his pulse and increase his
temperature to 102 deg. by taking thought? You can't? No, we didn't
suppose you could. Good day."
One person, however, I did succeed in convincing, and that was the
C.O., who knew his East. "Very good," said he. "If the skunk won't
be trained he shall go untrained. He sails for France with the next
draft."
Nevertheless our friend did not sail with the next draft. Ten minutes
after being warned for it, the old complaint caught him again, and
when the band played our lads out of barracks he was snugly tucked
away in sick-bay with sweet girl V.A.D.'s coaxing him to nibble a
little calves-foot jelly and keep his strength up. Nor did he figure
among either of the two subsequent drafts; his malaria wouldn't hear
of it.
I went back to the land of fireworks at the head of one of these
drafts myself, freely admitting that John Fanshawe had the best of
the joke. He waved me farewell out of the hospital window by way of
emphasising this.
The Babe followed me out shortly after, bringing about fifty men with
him. He strolled into Mess one evening and mentioned quite casually
that The Beachcomber was in camp.
"How did you manage it?" we chorused in wonder.
"Heard the story of his leaving China and repeated the dose," the Babe
replied. "Just before the draft was warned, my batman led him down
to Mooney's shebeen and treated him to the run of his throat--at my
expense. He came all the way as baggage."
Thus did John Fanshawe complete the second stage of his journey to the
War. He did not remain with us long, however; a fortnight at the most.
We were doing some digging at the time, night-work, up forward, in
clay so glutinous it would not leave the shovels and had mainly to be
clawed out by hand--filthy, back-breaking, heart-rending labour. On
calling the roll one dawn I found that The Beachcomber was missing.
"Anybody seen anything of him?" I asked.
"Yessir, I did," a man replied, and spat disgustedly.
"Well," I inquired, "was he hit or anything?"
The man grunted, "No, Sir; I don't think 'e was 'it; I think 'e was
fed up. 'Call this war, do they?' says 'e to me. 'I call it blawsted
WORK!' I told 'im to get on wiv it an' do 'is whack.
"'E chucks a couple of spoonfuls of muck and then sits down. 'I can
feel me damned ol' malaria creepin' over me again, Jim,' says 'e.
'Noticed a Red Cross outfit in the valley; think I'll be totterin'
along there,' says 'e. 'So long.' And that was the last the regiment
saw of its Beachcomber."
* * * * *
"Have it as you like, Captain Dawnay-Devenish," I said, "but before I
go tell me, how did you wangle this job?"
"Any affair of yours?" he sneered.
"No," I admitted; "still I'm interested."
He laughed unpleasantly. "Yes, you would be. Always infernally keen on
minding my business for me, weren't you? Well, if you must know, I was
convalescing when these same Chows started a pogrom in the next camp.
I stopped it, and the powers--who were scared stiff--tacked a stripe
on me and told me to carry on."
"That accounts for the stripe," said I; "but what of the stars?"
"Oh, them! We were behind the line down south last year laying a toy
railway when the Hun broke clean through in a fog. Remember? I pulled
the Chinks together and we stopped 'em. That's all."
"Good Lord, that wasn't you, was it?" I cried. "Set about 'em with
picks and shovels, shrieking Chinese war-cries and chopped 'em to
bits. Oh, splendid! But how on earth did you rouse these tame coolies
to it?"
The Beachcomber tugged his red moustache and laughed deprecatingly.
"It wasn't very difficult really. You see, these birds of mine are
only temporary coolies. In civilian life they're mostly river pirates,
Tong-fighters and suchlike professional cut-throats. Killing comes
natural to 'em. They only wanted somebody who could organize and lead
'em."
"And you could?"
The Beachcomber drew himself up proudly.
"I should hope so. Wasn't I their Pirate King for seven long years?"
PATLANDER.
* * * * *
[Illustration: OUR COURTEOUS TELEPHONE SERVICE.
_City Magnate_. "YOU'VE CUT ME OFF! HELL!!"
_Sweet Voice from the other end_. "THAT WILL BE A TRUNK CALL."]
* * * * *
SELF-DETERMINATION IN DEVON.
"At a public meeting at Barnstaple, the Vicar presiding, it
was decided to form a local branch of the League of
Nations."--_Western Morning News_.
Won't WILSON be bucked?
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Little Girl (in foreground)._ "MOTHER, I SUPPOSE THE
BRIDEGROOM _MUST_ COME TO HIS WEDDING?"]
* * * * *
THE LAST WATCH OF THE NIGHT.
The hand of dawn is on the door
That seals the dolorous arch of night;
Dim gardens and hushed groves once more
Dream of the half-forgotten light;
Yet all the ancient fires are cold
On altars battered and forlorn,
And men grope still for gauds of gold,
Oblivious of the imminent morn.
When comes the dawn? Its unseen dew
Distils on folded swath and mound,
Where grass is deep or sods are new,
And branches shake without a sound;
Where, numberless and low and grey,
The furrows lessen to the sky;
There sleep the sons of England, they
Who died that England should not die.
Better--ah, better for us all,
For them who sleep and us who wake,
That never bird at dawn should call
Nor golden foam of morning break;
That on one high cairn of the dead
The ultimate light should be unsealed,
Than that the world should live unled,
Unchanged, unpurified, unhealed.
Life and all things that make it fair
Men gave that better lives might be;
They went exulting and aware
Forth to the great discovery;
But who will prize life over-much
Or deem that death comes over-soon
If hands of fools and barterers touch
The architrave of Hope half-hewn!
Under a brave new baldachin,
New robes drooped o'er their crimson feet,
The old unaltered twain begin
Their ride along the embannered street;
With golden charms for men to kiss
A-swing from wrist and bridle-rein,
The brethren Pride and Avarice,
The monarchs of the world again.
If this thing be and no new world
Rise from the old dead world beneath,
Then morning's chaplet seven-pearled
Is made the bauble-crest of death;
All dreams belied, all vows made void,
Pale Hope a wingless fugitive,
And man a stumbling anthropoid--
Can these things be if England live?
If England live, the anarch tide
Shall lose itself among her waves,
And the grey earth be glorified
By the young blossom on her graves;
And by her grace no power shall part;
Fulfilment from the dreams that were,
If still the music of her heart
Be theirs who lived and died for her.
D.M.S.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE DOVE AT SEA.
BIRD OF PEACE. "EXCUSE ME, BUT IS THIS THE ARK?"
MAN OF WAR. "DUNNO NOTHIN' ABOUT NO ARK; BUT WE'RE FOR ARK-ANGEL, IF
THAT'S ANY USE TO YOU."]
* * * * *
ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.
[Illustration: _Sultan Addison (his mind on the house famine)._ "TELL
ME THE STORY OF THE PALACE BUILT IN A SINGLE NIGHT."]
_Monday, April 7th_.--The FIRST COMMISSIONER OF WORKS is determined
that there shall be no slack time in the furniture-removing industry.
To that end he is arranging that the business-premises in Kingsway
now being vacated by the Government shall be filled by the Commission
Internationale de Ravitaillement, that the Commission's old premises
shall then be occupied by the Air Ministry, and that the Hotel Cecil
shall then be restored to its original owners--unless, of course, it
should be wanted by the Department lately housed in Kingsway. "Musical
chairs," muttered Colonel WEDGWOOD.
That was not the hon. and gallant Member's only contribution to the
gaiety of the proceedings. He essayed to move the adjournment in order
to discuss the situation of our troops in Russia, but was reminded
that there was already a motion on the Order Paper dealing with that
subject and standing in his own name. An attempt to perform the
difficult manoeuvre of getting out of his own light was frustrated by
the SPEAKER, who, to the argument that the motion on the Paper
dealt with a wider subject, replied "_Majus in se minus continet_."
Overwhelmed by this display of erudition, the victim murmured "_Der
Tag!_" and collapsed.
In moving the Second Reading of the Housing Bill Dr. ADDISON thought
it necessary to disclaim any intention of posing as "an Oriental
potentate," modestly adding, "I do not look the part." He has,
however, one characteristic of the Eastern ruler, namely, a delight in
long stories. It took him two hours to tell the House in melancholy
monotone all about the defects of our present system and his proposals
for removing them. Unfortunately he has not the Oriental gift of
transforming slums into palaces in a single night, but hopes to
produce a similar effect by treating the local authorities with a
judicious mixture of subsidies and ginger.
_Tuesday, April 8th_.--Congratulations to Lord ASKWITH on taking his
seat in the House of Lords and condolences (in advance) to those
foreign journals which will inevitably announce that the ex-PRIME
MINISTER has overcome his objections to taking a peerage.
Lord BUCKMASTER'S futile attempt to resist the passage of the Military
Service Bill was chiefly remarkable for his epigrammatic description
of the present SECRETARY OF STATE FOR WAR--"a man of great capacity, a
man of most restless and versatile energy and unconquerable will,
and of the most vivid and most illimitable and elusive vision of
any politician of recent time." Several public schoolmasters, I
understand, have already noted its possibilities as a suitable extract
for translation into Tacitean Latin.
Lord CURZON hastened to assure Lord BUCKMASTER that, though deprived
of his co-operation, the present Cabinet thought itself equal
to coping with Mr. CHURCHILL. As for the Bill, there were still
storm-clouds over Europe that might break at any moment; and every
threatened nationality was uttering the same cry, "Send us British
troops." Although we could not respond to all these appeals, we must
have the power to give aid when the circumstances required it.
Some of our warriors are already experiencing the horrors of peace.
Mr. CHURCHILL has promised searching inquiry into the case of the
officer who sent a hundred-word telegram--at Government expense--about
a dog; and Mr. CHAMBERLAIN, on his attention being called to the
forty-three motorcars still in use by the War Office, gave an answer
which implied an impending slump in joy-rides.
Sir MARTIN CONWAY'S anxiety that an "archaeologically-qualified
official" should be entrusted with the duty of protecting the ancient
monuments of Mesopotamia was relieved by Mr. FISHER. Such an official
had already been sent out--not from the War Office, where all the
"archaeologically qualified" are presumably too busy--but from the
British Museum. Part of his work had been kindly done for him by the
German scientists, who had collected ninety cases of specimens, now in
our hands. The removal of bricks or other antiquities had long been
forbidden--rather a blow to Dr. ADDISON, who in the present shortage
of building material is very envious of the new Bavarian Government
with a bricklayer at its head.
_Wednesday, April 9th_.--In the Commons Dr. MACNAMARA announced that
the Admiralty did not propose to perpetuate the title "Grand Fleet"
for the principal squadron of His Majesty's Navy. The Grand Fleet is
now a part of the history that it did so much to make.
On the Third Reading of the Ministry of Health Bill Mr. J.H. THOMAS
made a rather ungracious allusion to the Local Government Board. _De
moribundis nil nisi bonum_ should have been his motto, especially as
the old Department has done splendid work (and never better than in
recent times under Sir HORACE MONRO) for the health and comfort of His
Majesty's lieges.
If words were as effective as bullets the Bolshevist Government in
Russia would have but a brief existence. The rumour that LENIN had
made overtures to the Allies moved Mr. CLEM EDWARDS to a display of
virtuous vituperation that Mr. BOTTOMLEY found difficult to equal,
though he did his best. Even Colonel WEDGWOOD, though he evidently
thinks we ought to make peace with LENIN, indignantly repudiated the
suggestion that he himself is a Bolshevist. Towards the close of the
evening the HOME SECRETARY declared that no proposals from LENIN had
reached our delegates in Paris--a statement which, if made a few hours
earlier, would have rendered the debate superfluous. In his opinion
the proposals, whatever they may be, had been "made in Germany" and
should be excluded as goods of enemy origin. His statement that he was
deporting Bolshevists every day was satisfactory so far as it went,
but left the House wondering how they had been permitted to get here.
_Thursday, April 10th_.--The House does not feel quite the same
without its BONAR, who has once more flown off to Paris. Question
after Question was "postponed" for his return. We were informed,
however, that the delay in releasing Charles the First from internment
was due to the necessity of repairing sundry damages to his fabric,
due, I understand, not to Zeppelins or Gothas, but to the corroding
tooth of Time.
Several Questions regarding an explosive magazine at Dinas Mawddwy
have lately been addressed to the Ministry of Munitions. Hitherto
they have received rather cryptic replies, no one in the Department
apparently being prepared to pronounce the name. But this afternoon
Mr. HOPE, after a few preliminary sentences to get his voice into
condition, boldly blurted out, "Dinnus Mouthwy," and received the
tribute which the House always pays to true courage.
[Illustration: MODIFIED MOTOR FACILITIES.
STAFF-OFFICERS PASSING THROUGH WHITEHALL ON THEIR WAY TO LUNCHEON.]
The LEADER OF THE OPPOSITION, hitherto a dual personality, is now
three single gentlemen rolled into one. Mr. GEORGE LAMBERT has
accepted the leadership of a new Liberal Party, and with Colonel
GODFREY COLLINS and Mr. ALBION RICHARDSON as his attendant Whips, duly
took his seat upon the Front Bench. Someone challenged the intrusion
of non-Privy Councillors into that sacred precinct. But the SPEAKER
dismissed the objection with the remark, "There is more room upon
that bench than on any other, you know." It is expected that, in
contradistinction to the "Wee Frees," the new Party will be known as
the "Auld Lichts."
* * * * *
"It is impossible to plough on account of the large number of
unexploded shells and bombs buried in the soil. These are now
being employed by the Engineers."--_Evening Paper_.
We trust they will manage to avoid the traditional fate of the
engineer.
* * * * *
UNEMPLOYMENT NOTES.
Government unemployees at present engaged in drawing their weekly
donation are requested to call at the Labour Exchange every day at 10
A.M. Morning dress.
It is not permissible for applicants to send their wives, valets or
chauffeurs to represent them.
Smoking is not prohibited, but applicants are requested not to offer
tobacco, cigarettes or cigars to the officials.
Arrangements are to be made to provide entertainment by means of
concert parties and motor-trips; also newspapers and periodicals, in
which, to avoid annoyance, the "Situations Vacant" column has been
blacked out.
It is desirable that applicants should not wear fur coats. The present
fashion does not go beyond a grey tweed lounge suit, with white spats
and velours hat.
A limited number of openings are offered to any who care to act as
batmen to unemployed munition-workers.
A doctor is in future to be kept at every Labour Exchange to render
first-aid to those who should be offered a situation.
Applicants are requested not to tease the officials.
* * * * *
JARGON.
From a speech at a Medical conference:--
"He was ashamed of the term 'shell-shock.' It was a bad word, and
should be wiped out of the vocabulary of every scientific man.
It was really molecular abnormality of the nervous system,
characterised by abnormal reactions to ordinary stimuli."--_Daily
Paper_.
We must try to remember this.
* * * * *
A MODEST ESTIMATE.
From a publisher's advertisement:--
"Baroness Orczy has laid the world under a fresh debt of
gratitude. 7/- net."--"_Times" Literary Supplement_.
* * * * *
"The question one could naturally put is, 'Has the
millennium arrived, when the lion and the lamb shall lay
together?'"--_Monthly Paper_.
Let's hope, at all events, that the produce won't be a cockatrice's
egg.
* * * * *
"This is the anniversary of the death of Robert Southey in 1843.
Perhaps his most celebrated poem is the delightful 'Ode to a
Skylark,' the beginning of which 'Hail to thee, blithe spirit,' is
known to every school child."--_New York Evening Journal_.
It seems that Truth still stands in need of propaganda in America.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Amateur Photographer (on a conducted tour in
France)._"CHARMING SPOT; BUT RATHER DISAPPOINTING. I _QUITE_ HOPED IT
WOULD HAVE BEEN ALL SMASHED UP."]
* * * * *