Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 156, June 4, 1919. by Various
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Various >> Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 156, June 4, 1919.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOL. 156.
June 4, 1919.
CHARIVARIA.
"Germany will sign," says an evening contemporary, "because the Allies
hold all the trumps." They also hold all the Manchurian beef, and are
prepared, should the occasion arise, to export it mercilessly.
***
A Carmarthen man has been fined 12s. 6d. for shooting an owl in
mistake for a pigeon. Defendant pleaded that in omitting to sound its
hooter the owl was guilty of contributory negligence.
***
M. LANDRU, the Parisian Bluebeard (alleged), is said to be very morose
and ill. It is felt that something or other must be worrying him.
***
Latest information points to the fact that Jazz has spread to the
Hebrides, where two suspected cases are under observation.
***
"Jumpers are to be very fashionable at the seaside this year," says a
fashion paper; and yet lodging-house keepers will keep on assuring us
that their bed-linen is scrupulously clean.
***
There are still twenty-three wars in progress, declares a Sunday
contemporary. The belief is rapidly gaining ground that several of
them are being allowed to continue merely to spite Colonel WEDGWOOD.
***
Cricket, we are constantly told, must be brightened. Why not allow
spectators to assault the umpires, just as if they were football
referees?
***
So many people have expressed their intention to swim the Channel this
year that there is talk of abandoning the tunnel scheme as likely to
prove unprofitable.
***
After knocking a man down with an iron bar at Shoreditch, and being
asked by the victim why he did it, the assailant again knocked him
down. Really this is carrying things too far. After all, politeness
costs nothing.
***
It appears that the Burglars' Trade Union, not to be outdone, are
about to put in a demand for shorter sentences.
***
"Single women," says a scientific journal, "live on an average ten
years longer than married women." After reading this statement, an
Irishman has issued a warning against the habit of marrying single
women.
***
Grimsby is to have a flag day for the local hospitals. It is not known
who first gave them the idea of a flag day.
***
"The only cure for the caterpillar now destroying young oaks in
Devon," says a morning paper, "is to remove the pest at once." The
idea of removing the trees does not seem to have occurred to our
contemporary.
***
Coins said to have been deposited on the Dinas Mountain, South Wales,
over seven hundred years ago have just been found. This speaks well
for the honesty of local residents.
***
The EX-KAISER has intimated to a newspaper man that he is prepared to
abide by the decisions of the Peace Conference. This confirms recent
indications that WILHELM is developing a sense of humour.
***
"Last week," says _The Evening News,_ "Venus was only 100,000,000
miles away." We are ashamed to confess that we had not noticed this.
***
"An apple a day keeps the doctor away," quotes a weekly paper. We only
hope this is true, for it is impossible to afford both.
***
"It is wonderful that there are not more accidents," remarked a
Coroner last week. But surely there are.
***
The extraordinary report that a domestic servant has been seen
at Purley is now explained. It was merely a resident going to a
fancy-dress dance.
***
A medical paper states that if a man was bitten by a rabid cow he
would probably go mad and start grazing in the nearest meadow. Hence
the name of the "Pasteur" treatment.
***
A dentist in a suburb that shall be nameless has a case of samples
attached to the outside of his front door, with an inscription
inviting people to choose a set of teeth before entering. Surely it is
bad manners for anyone to pick his teeth in public.
***
Some distinguished players have declared in favour of larger holes for
golf. Our own feeling, however, is that if there is to be any change
in the hole it would be better to correct its absurd habit of slipping
to one side just as the ball is dropping in.
***
There is said to be a craze among girls for entering Government
offices. The mania, an overworked official informs us, comes on at
10.15 A.M. and lasts about four hours.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Father._ "YES, TOMMY, WHATEVER YOU ATTEMPT THERE IS
ONE WAY TO LEARN, AND THAT IS BY BEGINNING AT THE VERY BOTTOM."
_Tommy._ "WHAT ABOUT SWIMMING?"]
* * * * *
"Many of the suburbs and outlying districts of London are
experiencing something like a plague of tiny stinging flies
similar to, but even more veracious than, the familiar
'midge.' The plague is not confined to low-lying
districts."--_Daily Paper._
The very last place in which we should expect to find anything
"veracious."
* * * * *
From a Paris letter:--
"The Majestic and the Astoria, and the other innumerable
hotels which house the Allied delegations, are full of the
white faces of tired secretaries, whose principles have
departed, or, still worse, returned."--_Evening Paper_.
We protest against this reflection on the morals of our delegation.
* * * * *
TO PEACE, ON HER CELEBRATIONS.
"Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind"
(As Colonel LOVELACE said) if I
From festal scenes for you designed
To solitude propose to fly;
If, when the strident trumpets blare
From Hampstead Heath to Clapham Junction,
And bunting fills the ardent air,
I don't assist at that brave function.
It does not follow, let me say,
That I am loath to give you cheer;
No, in my unobtrusive way
I hold you very, very dear;
I may not join the loud parade
Nor share the crowd's ecstatic tooting,
Yet in your honour I have paid
Twelve guineas for a summer suiting.
Think not I sniff at common joys
Or that my loyal heart condemns
A nation's soul expressed in noise
And pageants barging down the Thames;
Only, while others dance and pant
To hymns that carry half a mile hence,
I never was a Corybant,
But do my worship best in silence.
So on your _festa_ I shall be
Away in some sequestered nook,
Some open shrine beside the sea
Where Nature smiles with just your look;
And lie and let my thoughts go off
To where you come from--which is Heaven,
And play a quiet round of golf
And go to bed about eleven.
O.S.
* * * * *
THE RULING PASSION.
"Norman is coming to the dance," said my wife.
"He would prefer to be shot," I answered.
"You are coming too, and I want you to look after him."
"I also would prefer to stop one."
"It will do him all the good in the world. He wants bringing out."
When Norman is alone with me he is natural and even interesting at
times, but in company he is shy and self-conscious and a burden
to himself and his neighbours. He is a young dentist with a large
practice, and is already a well-known authority on Japanese methods
of extraction. Using only his thumb and forefinger he can remove
long-established teeth with so much ease and grace and such a quantity
of _sangfroid_ that it is a pleasure to watch him at his work. But
to a social gathering he comes limp and infirm of purpose; he feels
constrained to utter futile remarks with undue emphasis trailing into
incoherence; he is dreadful to behold.
I did not see him until the end of the second dance. He was in the
ante-room and presented a good example of protective colouring. He was
standing with his back to a dark screen, and his pale face and light
hair were indistinguishable against a background of flowers worked in
gold thread. His attitude as he tightly grasped his programme behind
him was that of a wounded dove at bay.
I signalled to him, but, although I was only a few feet away, he could
not see me. He had apparently also lost all power of movement. I took
him by the arm and led him to the buffet, and, although he never takes
alcohol, I felt justified in forcing some brandy between his lips.
This revived him a little, and he said in a well-modulated voice: "The
surface of the floor is excellent. It is rather warm and oppressive
(or cold and chilly). I adore dancing; it both exercises the body
and refreshes the mind; but unfortunately I have not had many
opportunities of indulging in the art."
I gave him some more brandy.
A little later he recognised me and smiled. I examined his programme
and found that he was engaged for the next dance to a girl who could
talk to anyone on any subject; I could see my wife's hand in the
arrangement. I explained the situation, piloted him to his partner
and stayed with them a while. She made several openings for him in the
conversation, which he immediately sealed up with monosyllables, and
when she allowed her fan to slip to the floor he stepped on it. She
suggested that they should take the air on the balcony, and as I
left them he pulled himself together and began to tell her, in a
well-modulated voice, that the surface of the floor was excellent.
Later I saw him with the same partner still on the balcony. They were
both pale and silent and had apparently never moved. They seemed to
be exercising an unconscious fascination on one another. My courage
failed me and I went elsewhere.
Some time after I happened to be at the buffet when Norman staggered
in and ordered a large brandy-and-soda. There were beads of
perspiration on his forehead and he was as white as death.
"What has happened?" I asked as soon as, I could attract his
attention.
"It is horrible--horrible!" he gasped.
"Tell me what has happened," I commanded, grasping his shoulder.
"What has happened!" he repeated, with a hollow laugh. "I am undone.
My career is at an end. I am a broken man."
"What have you done?"
"I couldn't help it," he sobbed. "We sat there for an age, an
eternity, unable to speak, unable to move, unable to act. At length my
nerve gave way and I--I've pulled all her teeth out."
* * * * *
THE UNEMPLOYMENT SCANDAL.
[The evening papers have lately published some striking
incidents regarding the struggle for existence that is
undergone by certain gentlemen who are in receipt of the
Unemployment Allowance.]
"We are longing for work," said a young man who, after suffering the
horrors of war for nearly four years in the Ministry of Superfluous
Hotels and Hutments, has just been evacuated. "We have prepared a list
of billets that we are ready to take up at a moment's notice."
From this list I select a few of the more likely situations:--
1. Hot-cross-bun maker to the Jewish colony at White-chapel.
2. "Double-blank" man at a factory for putting spots on dominoes.
3. Muzzle-maker to the Master of the King's Buckhounds.
4. King of Albania.
5. Judge of the Bigamy Court at Salt Lake City.
6. Military Attache to the Colonial Secretary to the German
Government.
7. Deputy-Assistant Torpedo-Lieutenant to the Swiss Navy.
8. Press Censor to distinguished Field-Marshals, Admirals, etc.
9. Manufacturer of flannel petticoats to the Hippodrome Beauty Chorus.
10. Billiard-marker on a submarine.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE INTERNATIONAL STAKES.
THE HORSE. "WELL, THIS DOESN'T GIVE ME MUCH CHANCE."]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Model_. "I BOUGHT A PICTURE O' YOURS THE OTHER DAY,
SIR."
_Artist_. "REALLY! WHERE DID YOU GET IT?"
_Model_. "GOT IT AT A LITTLE PAWNSHOP--'ALF-A-CROWN I GIVE FOR IT."
(_Artist emits a sardonic laugh_.) "WHY, I 'AVEN'T BIN 'AD, 'AVE I,
SIR?"]
* * * * *
PUMPENHEIM.
When Adolf Hans Pumpenheim, farmer, was brought up for trial as a
civil offender it is not too much to say that a shudder passed through
the members of the Summary Court, which consisted of Major Blenkin
and myself. This emotion was due not so much to the unprepossessing
appearance of the prisoner as to the enormity of his offence.
He was charged upon two different counts: firstly, with being in
illegal possession of two tins of corned beef and one cake of soap,
the property of the British Government; secondly, with having offered
a bribe of fifty marks to Second-Lieutenant Robinson in order to
escape arrest.
The charge was translated to the prisoner by an interpreter, who in
his turn appeared to feel the gravity of the occasion. He alluded with
bated breath to the topic of corned beef; he slid, so to speak, over
the soap; only in the mention of the fifty marks did his voice ring
out confidently, as though righteous indignation had overcome the
baser sentiment of pity. Pumpenheim listened in silence. When invited
to plead Guilty or Not Guilty he made no reply.
Judges are only human. I cannot state that his innocence was presumed.
The evidence was brief. A corporal of foot police, after examining the
articles produced in court, pronounced them to be indubitably two tins
of corned beef and a cake of soap, and further declared that he had
found them in the prisoner's house, no troops being at that time
billeted upon him. Second-Lieutenant Robinson deposed that upon his
arrival the prisoner had thrust a fifty-mark note into his hand,
accompanying the action with gestures and grimaces suggestive of
bribery.
Here we all looked at Pumpenheim. His features afforded no sign of
intelligence or even of interest. For his particular benefit the
evidence was translated. He was further invited to question the
witnesses or to call testimony on his own behalf. To these offers he
responded with a shrug indicating that he waived all rights.
The court was therefore cleared, and Major Blenkin and I proceeded
to consider our verdict, with no other company than the dozen empty
stools which had faced us during the trial, and which represented the
inalienable right of the civil population to attend the court if they
pleased. Custom forbids me to divulge the finding or the sentence.
It will suffice to say that justice was tempered with mercy. We were
about to readmit the prisoner, his escort and the imaginary public
when my partner in the suppression of crime was struck by an idea.
"Look here," asked Major Blenkin, "what about the moral aspect?"
I hesitate to argue with Blenkin about moral questions, on which he
speaks with authority. I therefore awaited his next remark.
"The moral aspect," Blenkin went on, "is most important. I intend to
impress this fellow. I shall tell him that if he had been a French
peasant and had offered a bribe to a German officer he would have been
put against a wall and shot. Do you agree?"
I considered the proposition.
"No," I said, "I don't."
Blenkin threw me a suspicious glance. "Why not?" he asked.
"Too many assumptions," I said.
Blenkin bridled indignantly. It was on the tip of his tongue to charge
me with being a pro-German. He controlled himself and rang a bell. "I
shall hold to my own opinion," he remarked with some asperity.
The prisoner, his escort and the interpreter were marched in. Adolf
Hans Pumpenheim created the customary diversion by turning to the
right on the command, "Left turn," and the sergeant-major made the
customary comments, undeterred by the prisoner's ignorance of English.
The imaginary public filed in and occupied the vacant stools.
When this bustle had subsided, the finding and the sentence were read
by Blenkin and duly translated by the interpreter. Pumpenheim was
quite impassive, and maintained his composure throughout the small
financial transaction which followed. He counted out his notes with an
air of fatalism. Having obtained a receipt for the fine he made us a
little bow and turned to leave the court.
"One moment," said Major Blenkin.
"_Einen Augenblick_," echoed the interpreter. Pumpenheim faced about
and stood to attention.
Blenkin cleared his throat. "I will not dwell upon the moral aspect of
your case," he said. The prisoner's features expressed neither relief
nor surprise, but polite inquiry. Blenkin, slightly ruffled, enlarged
upon the heinous nature of the crime and the leniency of the sentence.
Finally he produced his masterpiece of comparison--the French peasant,
the German officer, the attempted bribe, the execution. When the
last grim lines of the imaginary history had been translated for him,
Pumpenheim felt some observation on his part to be called for.
"So-o?" he said, "so-o?"
But I heard incredulity in his voice. Blenkin read it in his face. The
prisoner did not believe a word of the tale. He was indifferent to the
homily.
Blenkin, defeated, leaned back in his chair. "I give it up," he said.
"You have a try at him."
I looked at Pumpenheim. His narrow eyes turned to me.
"If you had offered the money to a German officer," I said, and the
interpreter repeated the words--"if you had offered the money to a
German officer he--might--have--taken--it."
Slowly a look of comprehension crossed the face of Adolf Hans
Pumpenheim. It was like sunrise upon his grey and stubbly countenance,
where three days' growth of beard had thriven in the soil of the
guard-room. He was not altogether happy, for he had been found
guilty and had paid a fine. But in the course of this ceremony, which
appeared to him mystical and obscure, he had encountered one familiar
idea, one thought within his power of understanding. Rectitude was
a stranger to him, but corruption an old friend: He was not abashed;
rather, on the contrary, he was cheered and encouraged. I could see
that his heart warmed to me in particular, and I believe that but for
his respect for the Court he would have paid me the compliment of a
wink.
"Let him go," said Blenkin; and the Court adjourned for lunch.
* * * * *
[Illustration: "SETTLED PEACE! I TELL YOU THERE'S NO SUCH THING.
I BURIED THE HATCHET WITH MY STEP-MOTHER AFTER TEN YEARS, AND NEXT
MORNING SHE WROTE, 'I'M GLAD YOU'VE SEEN THE ERROR OF YOUR WAYS.'"]
"At Newcastle, this afternoon, the airmen, had a great
reception. The Lord Mayor handed each a book of views of
Newcastle and a box of cigarettes."--_Pall Mall Gazette_.
Who says England is not a land for heroes to live in?
* * * * *
THE EDITOR REGRETS.
A few weeks ago there appeared in _Punch_, under the title "A Germless
Eden," some verses sent in by an unknown contributor. The Editor is
now informed that the original version of these lines was the work
of Mr. ARTHUR GUITERMAN, of New York, who published them in 1915 with
Messrs. HARPER AND BROTHERS in _The Laughing Muse,_ a collection of
his humorous verse. The Editor begs both author and publishers to
accept his sincere regrets.
* * * * *
From a summing-up:--
"If the plaintiff was telling the truth, he had only himself
to blame."--_Provincial Paper_.
If judges say this sort of thing, no wonder perjury is on the
increase.
* * * * *
[Illustration: "'ERE, EASY ON A MINUTE; WE AIN'T SHOOK 'ANDS YET."]
* * * * *
MELISANDE'S POINT OF VIEW.
"About rabies," said Angela.
"Well?" said I patiently.
"Well, about Melisande," said Angela.
"What about Melisande?" I replied.
"Oh, you know quite well what about Melisande," said Angela; "about
her and Peggy playing so much together. Is it quite wise, do you
think? I've been bothering about it for some days now; cats are such
queer things and a cat with rabies would be so dreadfully dangerous."
"There I quite agree with you," I answered meditatively. "Though I
have rather excepted Melisande from the general rule I have always
considered a cat an exceedingly dangerous animal, and a cat with
rabies is, of course, ten times worse; it simply oughtn't to be
allowed."
"I felt sure you would agree with me," said Angela.
Melisande is a staid creature of placid demeanour and generous
proportions. It had never occurred to me hitherto to associate her
with rabies, and I still felt that she herself would scoff at the
idea.
We were gathered round the fire, my wife, my daughter and I; Angela
seated on what is known, I believe, in upholstering circles as a
humpty, while Peggy lay on her tummy on the floor, pencil in hand
and a sheet of paper before her; she was chewing the pencil with the
ruminating air of one who awaits inspiration. I myself occupied the
armchair.
"You know," said Angela presently, "I think Melisande has seemed
worried about something the last few days. I do hope the poor dear
isn't bothering about rabies. One so often hears of people actually
producing a disease merely by thinking a lot about it. By the way, I'm
told that one of the earliest manifestations of rabies is a desire to
bite inanimate objects; if we see her doing that we shall know that
the time has come to act."
At this juncture Melisande entered the room through the open window.
Her manner exhibited a curious blend of dignity and caution; I could
more readily have suspected my own mother of having rabies. She
advanced slowly towards us till suddenly her eye lighted on Peggy, who
still chewed her pencil awaiting inspiration.
Melisande stopped as though she had been shot; I could only surmise
that the sight of Peggy thus occupied had confirmed her darkest
suspicions. With one wild shriek of terror she fled from the room.
* * * * *
THE NEGLECTED PROBLEM.
O dear and delectable journal that daily
Appeasest my hungering mind
With items recounted or gravely or gaily
Of doings at Margate, Mayfair or Old Bailey,
Or paragraphs rare and refined
On "Who will the forthcoming cinema star be?"
"What horse to support with your shirt for the Derby;"
"How much will the next price of beer at the bar be?"
"Are halibuts blind?"
A question arises I prithee examine
And ponder the pull that it has
Over headings like "Foch and Parisian Gamine,"
"Are Bolshevists _really_ believers in Famine?"
Or "Vocalist Lynched at La Paz."
I look for it oft and in vain and say, "Blow it!
There _must_ be an answer and England should know it."
Here, then, is the problem that's haunting the poet:
_Does Germany Jazz_?
* * * * *
"William Henry ----, aged 110, fell off a tree whilst out
playing with other boys and broke his right leg."--_Provincial
Paper_.
We hope it will be a lesson to him for the rest of his life.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Gentle Creature (who fancies she has heard the
customary sound of her cat tapping at the window to be let in)._
"NAUGHTY, NAUGHTY ADOLPHUS! COME IN AT ONCE, LIKE A GOOD BOY!"]
* * * * *
BIRD NOTES.
Nature Study has recently been recommended by a well-known Daily
Paper as a means of gradual relaxation from war-worry. Mr. Punch would
therefore like to contribute for so noble an end a few ornithological
notes, having for a long time been addicted to the observation of
bird-life.
CUCKOO.--This bird, which obtained its name on account of the
similarity of its note to that of the Cuckoo-clock, was one of the
earliest sufferers of the housing problem, which it successfully
solved by depositing its eggs in the nests of other birds.
SEAGULL.--When the eggs of this bird are hatched the mother-parent
feeds its young on the glutinous substance that oozes from
sea-weed--hence "Mother Seagull's Syrup."
THROSTLE.--_See_ THRUSH.
PIGEON.--This bird was used as a message-carrier with great success
during the War. An attempt to cross it with the Parrot, to enable it
to deliver verbal messages, was unfortunately a failure.
SPARROW.--Bird-fanciers experience great difficulty with this bird
when kept in captivity, as it frequently develops jaundice, in
which case it can only be sold under the name of "Canary," at a big
difference in price.
GUILLEMOT.--The name "Guillemot" is derived from the French word
"_Guillemot_," which means a Guillemot.
LARK.--The protective instinct in this bird is very marked. Although
nesting on the ground it soars high into the sky for the purpose of
leading aviators and balloonists away from its young.
GOLDFINCH.--A favourite cage-bird. The best method of catching the
goldfinch is to wait until it settles on the lowest branch of a tree,
then approach it from behind and gently tap its right wing with your
right hand. This causes it immediately to turn its head to see who has
touched it; you can then bring up your left hand unnoticed, into which
it falls an easy victim.
BULLFINCH.--Another popular cage-bird. The best method of capturing
it, which differs widely from that in use with the Goldfinch, is as
follows:--Hang head downwards from the fork of an old tree in order to
resemble a dead branch, having previously covered yourself with
some adhesive matter. In this position you should wait until as many
Bullfinches as you want have settled on your clothes and stuck there;
then climb down from the tree and have them scraped off into a large
cage.