Chapter 1

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

VOL 146

JUNE 24, 1914.

CHARIVARIA.

The Cambridge University Boat Club has decided to spend £8,000 in improving the Cam. There is talk of making it into a river.

* * *

Says a writer in a contemporary, "Don't live in a houseboat during a flood." And yet NOAH always declared that he owed his life to having done so.

* * *

The gentlemen who formed M. RIBOT'S Cabinet are objecting to being described as "The One-Day Ministry." They were, they assert, in office for some hours more than that.

* * *

The attack on M. RIBOT'S Ministry in the matter of the Three Years' Service was led in the Chamber by three quite undistinguished Socialists; and the contest was described succinctly by an unsympathetic onlooker as "_Trois ânes_ v. _Trois ans._"

* * *

By the way, M. VIVIANI'S Finance Minister is, we see, M. NOULENS. Is he, we wonder, any relation of M. Noulens-Voulens?

* * *

The KAISER has commanded that the Colonial War Memorial to be erected in Berlin shall take the form of an elephant. Presumably it is to be of Parian marble in order to signify that some of the German colonies are a bit like a white elephant.

* * *

A French squadron of eighteen vessels has lately been visiting Portland. It was perhaps a little unfortunate that Admiral CALLAGHAN'S ship should have been _The Iron Duke_--but no doubt our tactful officers explained to their visitors that the vessel had been so named after a wealthy iron-master who had been ennobled.

* * *

The report that an airship expedition is being prepared against the MAD MULLAH is said to have caused keen delight to the old gentleman, as he has never seen an aeronautical display of any kind.

* * *

It is now suggested that when Mr. HOBHOUSE took possession of H.M.S. _Monarch_, he was labouring under the delusion that he was Postmaster-Admiral as well as Postmaster-General.

* * *

The publication of _The Best of Lamb_, by Messrs. METHUEN, reminds one that a literary butcher once complained that LAMB had not been issued in The Canterbury Poets.

* * *

Although Mr. T. P. O'CONNOR is severing his connection with _T. P.'s Weekly_ the name of the paper will not be changed. This sort of thing is well calculated to confuse and unsettle the public. "T. P. or not T. P.? that'll be the question."

* * *

Illustration: _Examining Admiral_ (_to naval candidate_). "NOW MENTION THREE GREAT ADMIRALS."

_Candidate._ "DRAKE, NELSON AND--I BEG YOUR PARDON, SIR, I DIDN'T QUITE CATCH YOUR NAME."

* * *

It is denied that the title of our newest magazine--_Blast_--was suggested by Mr. BERNARD SHAW.

* * *

"Old Spot Pigs," we are informed, are now being bred successfully once more. It surprises us to hear this announced as a triumph. One would have thought that in these days of beauty culture a clear complexion would have been the desideratum.

* * *

"If," says a contemporary, "the middle-class girl were regularly provided with a dowry, the matrimonial enthusiasm of young men would probably be stimulated." We cannot imagine how people think of these clever things.

* * *

Members of the Women's Social and Political Union are, says _The Daily Mail_, boycotting West-End shopkeepers and stores not advertising in the Militant organs. However, if the rest of the public will agree to boycott such firms as do advertise in these organs the matter should come all right.

* * *

A warning has been issued to pic-nic parties as to the danger from adders, which are exceptionally numerous this year. They are apt to bite if suddenly sat upon, and prudent persons are taking the precaution of sitting on their plates.

* * *

"I shall never," writes a journalist in _The Express_, "forget the shudder with which I saw a very well-known dramatist at a garden party eating strawberries with his gloves on." We ourselves sometimes have these sudden sensations, but, unlike the writer, are very prone to let them slip out of our memory.

* * *

A dress-designer, we read, went mad one day last week in Paris and fired a number of revolver shots at the police. To judge by many of the creations one sees there must be quite an epidemic of mental deficiency just now among designers of modes.

* * *

"Bags," we read in a lady's paper, "are going out of fashion." Men will, however, continue to wear them.

* * * * *

From a list of awards at the Horse Show:--

"Riding Jonies ... Shetland Jones ... Pairs of Pones ..."--_Morning Post._

You see the animal they mean.

* * * * *

"Cutter wanted for ladies' and gentlemen's trade; city house; state experience, salary."

An ordinary enough advertisement, but _The Irish Times_ imparts a certain melancholy humour to it by inserting it in the section headed "Yachts, Boats, etc."

* * * * *

"GRAND NIGHTS."

O benchers of the various ancient Inns At whose so generous tables I have battened, Where potions of the best and fruitiest bins And fare on which LUCULLUS might have fattened Tend to reduce the awe Proper to laymen shadowed by the Law;

How good I find it, full of meat, to sit (The while Oporto's juice of '87, Served on the polished board with silver lit, Heartens me to postpone the joys of Heaven) And hear, _remotis curis_, The legal jest, the apt _scintilla juris_.

But most I compliment, with thanks profuse, The touch that gives your feasts their crowning savour, Whose absence must have marred the duckling _mousse_, Ruined the _neige au Kirsch_, and soured the flavour Of Madame MELBA'S peaches-- I mean the pledge upon my card, "No Speeches."

There's only one I like, and that's "The KING"! (I give the text in full--no superfluities); Why should I have to hear some dodderer sing Praise of the Government (whichever crew it is), While some one else endorses The obvious merits of our fighting forces?

If I have dined too well, to-morrow's cure Shall be the fine for my excessive feasting; But, at the night's tail-end, I can't endure A punishment that bores me like a bee-sting, Poisoning all the mirth That should companion my distended girth.

For this relief from those who spoil the vine (How oft have I refused, O learned Benchers, For fear of speeches, other men's and mine, The chance of feeding off the choicest trenchers)-- For this relief I rank you High up among my benefactors. Thank you.

O. S.

* * * * *

HOW THE CHAMPIONSHIP WAS WON.

(A _Story of 1918._)

The last match of the season was between Kent and Somerset. Kent and Surrey were at the top of the Championship table, with the following percentages:--

Kent 87.51 Surrey 87.23

Surrey had completed its programme. Thus all depended on the result of this Kent-Somerset match. To become champions Kent had either to win outright or to keep their percentage intact by the circumstance of both sides not completing an innings.

Play was impossible on the first day owing to rain. On the second day Somerset scored 157. Rain fell again and Kent were unable to commence their innings till the afternoon of the third day. Obviously they had to strain every nerve to accomplish two things: (1) to avoid getting out and (2) to avoid scoring more than 157. At all hazards they must neither win nor lose on the first innings. They could not win the match. There was no time. And either a win or a loss on the first innings would lower their percentage sufficiently to enable Surrey to go to the top. For in the matter of averages it is better under certain conditions not to have fought at all than to secure only a portion of the honours.

It was an extraordinary afternoon's cricket. The Kent batsmen were very careful, but two minutes before time there were 156 runs on the board and the last two batsmen were at the wicket. If a wicket fell or a couple of runs were scored Kent would lose the Championship. Strong men shivered like leaves as ball after ball was steadily blocked by the batsmen. Red-faced farmers wore their pencils to stumps in explaining the appalling alternatives. Somerset, in the most sporting spirit, were trying their hardest. A couple of deliberately-bowled wides would, of course, have given Surrey the championship, but Somerset were playing for the honour and glory of defeating Kent on the first innings.

The last two Kent men displayed wonderful nerve. The straight ones were carefully stopped and every ball off the wicket was left alone. Needless to say the softest long hop to leg would not have tempted them to hit.

When the bowler prepared to deliver the last ball of the day the very trees round the ground seemed to stop whispering. It was a good length ball, very fast and pitched slightly to the off. The batsman raised his bat, expecting it to fly past the wicket. To his horror it nipped in. Down came the bat in frantic haste. Heaven be praised! Just in time! The bat just snicked the ball off. It missed the wicket by an eighth of an inch and shot away to leg.

Then occurred one of those incidents that men boast of having witnessed, one of those strange happenings in sport that are recounted to generation after generation.

The ball had shot away to leg where there was no fieldsman. One of the slips immediately made after it. The batsmen naturally did not run as they did not wish to score. But suddenly it occurred to the striker that it might reach the boundary, that the slip field might not be fast enough to catch it up, and that, therefore, Kent would win on the first innings and in so doing lose the championship. The idea flashed across his mind almost immediately after he had hit the ball, and with a promptness of action that was really beyond all admiration he dropped his bat and ran like a madman in pursuit of the ball.

He easily outstripped the Somerset slip, who was rather a stout man, and fled like a hare after the little red devil that was scorching fast in search of the fatal four.

Men groaned in the agony of their excitement and women shrieked hysterically.

On flew the gallant Kent batsman. Nearer and nearer he got to the ball. He overtook it. He stopped it. Three inches from the boundary he fell on it and hugged it to his chest. The match was a draw, a glorious draw! Neither side had won or lost a point. It did not count in the Championship table. Kent were Champions!

In the mad excitement of the moment no one thought of appealing on the question of handling the ball or interfering with the field. Moreover both the umpires had swooned and were being removed on shutters. The result stood. The hero of the game was carried into the pavilion by two music-hall agents and a reporter.

* * * * *

Editorial Amenities.

"I have no fault to find with 'Towser,' except that it is very much like scores of other dog stories; that is probably why you have failed to place it. Have you tried the 'Manchester Guardian'?"

_T.P.'s Weekly._

* * * * *

"What comes after Home Rule?--Mormons in Germany."

_Vancouver Daily Province._

Fortunately we shan't mind that.

* * * * *

Illustration: "CAPTAINS COURAGEOUS."

* * * * *

MUSICAL NOTES.

The remarkable and altogether epoch-making article in _The Times_ of the 16th inst., on the stimulating effect of the bath on unmusical people, has already borne notable fruit. Meetings of the Governing Bodies of all the principal Musical Colleges and Academies were held on the following day, at which it was unanimously determined, as one of the speakers put it, to effect a closer synthesis of harmony and ablution. Sir HUBERT PARRY, himself celebrated in his youth for his prowess in natation, has offered to present the Royal College of Music with a magnificent swimming bath; Mr. LANDON RONALD has drafted a scheme for the erection of a floating bath in the Thames for the convenience of the Guildhall School, and Sir ALEXANDER MACKENZIE has offered the students of the R.A.M. an annual prize for the best vocal composition in praise of saponaceous abstergents.

* * * * *

Outside our musical academies the impetus given to musicians and composers has been equally remarkable. Professor Banville de Quantock, whose Oriental proclivities are well known, has at once embarked on a gigantic choral symphony, to words of his own composition, in which the whole process and procedure of the Turkish Bath is treated historically, dramatically and realistically in seventeen movements. The title has not yet been definitely fixed, but it will probably be known as the _Symphonie Bathétique_, to differentiate it from TSCHAIKOVSKY'S hackneyed work.

* * * * *

STRAUSS is reported by Mr. KALISCH to be engaged on a series of _Spritzbadlieder_ of extraordinary beauty and complexity, in which a wonderful effect is produced by the employment in the orchestral accompaniment of a new instrument called the Loofaphone, which produces a curious hissing noise like that emitted by a groom when using the currycomb. Another instrument to which prominence is assigned in the score is called the Saponola and bears a resemblance to the spalacoid sub-family of mandrils, which have the mandibular angles in close proximity to the sockets of the lower cephalopods. The motto of the work is "_Das ewig Seifige_."

We may further note, as one of the most valuable by-products of _The Times_ article, the announcement that an international Balneo-Musical Congress will be shortly held in the Albert Hall, with a view to discussing the best methods of promoting harmonic hygiene. The arena, we understand, is to be converted into a vast demonstration-tank, in which prominent composers, conductors and singers will appear. Miss CARRIE TUBB has kindly promised to preside. Amongst other items in the programme we may mention an exhibition of under-water violin-playing by Mr. Bamberger, and a game of symphonic water-polo between two teams of Rhine maidens, captained by Herr NIKISCH and Sir HENRY WOOD respectively.

* * * * *

Illustration: THE TRIUMPH OF THE ENEMY.

* * * * *

IDEAL HOLIDAYS.

SOME FURTHER OPINIONS.

_COLONEL ROOSEVELT._--There is no doubt whatever that the best holiday ground is Brazil. There one can have excitement day and night. When one is not escaping from a man-eating trout one is eluding a vampire bat. If the time is slow one can always seek the Rapids. Next to Brazil I should suggest the offices of the New River Company.

_MR. HOBHOUSE (P.M.G.)._--I know very little of holidays, having to keep my nose to St. Martin's-le-Grind-stone day and night, but I have thought that, if I did take a week or so off, I should choose to spend it on the Post Office yacht, roughing it.

_SIR EDWARD CARSON._--Such time as I can spare from Ulster and my daily journey to and from London I should like to spend in explaining to REDMOND the duties of a War-lord.

_MR. FRANK TINNEY (the famous American tragedian)._--Ordinary holidays is just so much junk. Me and ERNEST don't hold with them. Our idea of a holiday is to go down town and hear jokes. The more jokes we hear the bigger stock we have not to tell.

_MR. WINSTON CHURCHILL._--I have often wondered if a busy administrator might not get a very restful time by steadily refusing to fly.

_MR. ASQUITH._--This talk about the constant need for holidays seems to me to be, if I may say so, one of the great illusions of the day. The wise man surely is he who, seated in his chair of office, welcomes every new complication and perplexity that the moments bring, and in labour finds the true repose.

_MR. MASTERMAN._--I am spending my own holiday just now very agreeably in composing conundrums. This is my latest: "Why do I differ from my trousers?" The answer is, "Because they don't want reseating."

_LORD WIMBORNE._--There is no place for a holiday like Meadowbrook.

* * * * *

A set of 12 Elizabethan "Apostle" spoons were recently offered for sale at Messrs. CHRISTIE'S. Only one actual Apostle (Saint PETER) was available, but excellent substitutes were provided in the persons of ALEXANDER THE GREAT, CHARLEMAGNE, JULIUS CÆSAR, KING ARTHUR, GUY OF WARWICK, QUEEN ELIZABETH, JUDAS MACCABEUS and others.

* * * * *

"The fielding was particularly smart and the batsmen could not get the ball away, the only hit worth mention for several hours being a 4 by Tarrant off Bullough."

_Newcastle Evening Chronicle._

A few more efforts like this and we shall suspect TARRANT of having read the "Brighter Cricket" articles.

* * * * *

"A wireless message has been received here from the liner, New York, reporting that while in a dense fog she was struck a glancing blow abaft the bow by the steamer Pretoria.

The New York was stooping at the time, and the shock was only slight."

_Glasgow Evening News._

Showing the advantage of being caught bending.

* * * * *

Illustration: _Sergeant (to new recruit who is grooming his horse very gingerly)._ "NOW THEN, CULLY, JUST YOU BE CAREFUL 'OW YOU DUST THAT THERE 'ORSE; 'E'S A DELICATE PIECE, 'E IS, AND 'E SHOWS THE SLIGHTEST SCRATCH."

* * * * *

"WHEN OTHER LIPS ..."

The most original feature of the Opera-Ballet, _Le Coq d'Or_, given last week for the first time in England, was the arrangement by which the actors were excused from singing, and the singers from acting. Chorus and soloists, dressed uniformly, without distinction of sex, in a nondescript maroon attire, were disposed on each side of the stage in a couple of grand stands, from which they saw little or nothing of the entertainment but enjoyed an uninterrupted view of the conductor. This left the actors free to attend to the primary business of miming, which, when it came to the distribution of applause, they clearly regarded as the most important element in the show.

I look for great things from this new departure. It is rare enough for an operatic performer to be capable of both singing and acting, or to be alike beautiful to look on and to listen to. Once we have accepted the convention by which an actor's lips are allowed to move in one part of the stage while the sound comes from a totally different quarter, we may go further and arrange for the singers to be put out of sight altogether. He (and more particularly, she) might be posted behind some sort of screen, diaphanous in respect of the vocalists' view of the conductor, but opaque to the audience. When I think of some of the rather antique and amorphous _prime donne_ of German, Italian and French opera, I know that any scheme which would render them invisible and permit their acting parts to be played by young and gracious figures would meet with my unqualified approval. It would be necessary, of course, to consult them first (a task which I would not care to undertake), and this division of labour would no doubt entail additional expense, but I am convinced that the pure love of art for art's sake which is inherent in the nature of all operatic stars and syndicates would ultimately rise superior to considerations whether of pelf or _amour propre_.

O. S.

* * * * *

From a catalogue:--

"WELLS (H. G.) Ann Veronica, a Modern Love Story, cr. 8vo. _cloth_ (_rather dull_)."

* * * * *

DOMESTIC ECONOMY.

[Another Husband Housekeeper, supplementing the information already published in _The Daily Mail_, reveals the system of housekeeping by enforcing which he saves pounds and pounds and pounds a year.]

When Sunday's heavy meal is done Our joint's career is but begun.

_Imprimis_, undismayed and bold, It reappears on Monday, cold.

And lo! the same on Tuesday will Appear again, and colder still.

The odds and ends we keep in store, Divided neatly into four.

A portion (No. 1) will do For Wednesday's so-to-speak "ragoût";

A portion (No. 2) will be The gist of Thursday's "fricassee";

A portion (No. 3) supply The pith of Friday's "cottage pie";

A portion (No. 4) will play The leading _rôle_ on Saturday,

Entitled, may be, "_à la russe_," Or, better still, "anonymous."

Thus is economy attained, For thus is appetite constrained.

* * * * *

"DRIVEN."

(_With a slight hook to it_).

I.

SCENE--_The drawing-room of_ John Staffurth, M. P. _Enter_ Staffurth _and_ Barbara Cullen.

_Staffurth._ Barbara, the doctors have given their verdict. My wife has only two years to live.

_Barbara._ John, but she looks so well! What's the matter with her?

_Staffurth._ Well, it's a little difficult to explain. But without being technical I may say that it is--er--not exactly appendicitis and yet--er--not exactly mumps. Anyhow, it's always very fatal on the stage.

_Barbara._ Two years! John, I'm not quite clear whether I'm _your_ relation or Diana's, or, in fact, what I'm doing in the house at all, but as an old friend of _somebody's_ may I give you a word of advice?

_Staffurth._ (_looking at his watch_). Certainly, but you must be quick. I have to be back at the House in five seconds.

_Barbara._ Then, John, give Diana a good time for those two years. Ask her to recite sometimes, tell her about Welsh Disestablishment, at all costs keep her amused.

_Staffurth._ (_amazed_). My dear girl, do you realise I'm an Opposition Member? The Government may spring a snap division on us at any moment. (_Taking out his engagement book._) Still, let me see what I can do. On July 15th, 1916---- Oh no, that will be too late. November 25th, 1915--how's that? We might have an afternoon at Kew then if the Whips don't want me. (_Looking at his watch._) Well, I must be off. Don't let Diana know she's ill.

[_Exit hastily._

_Enter_ Diana Staffurth.

_Diana._ I listened outside the door! Two years, and he won't even ask me to recite to him! He doesn't love me.

_Barbara._ He does, he does! But he's one of those men who never show it till the Last Act.

_Diana._ Well, I know somebody who doesn't mind showing it in the First Act. (_Goes to telephone._) Is that you, Captain Furness? I've just learnt a new little piece.... Yes, don't be long. [_She sits down to play the piano till he comes._

CURTAIN.

II.

_Six months later._

Captain Furness's _rooms, 11.30 p.m._

_Enter_ Furness _and_ Diana.

_Furness._ There, dear, now we can have a nice little supper together. You do love me, don't you?

_Diana._ I suppose so. I love talking to you on the telephone, anyway. I can't think what we should have done in this play without the telephone.

_Furness._ And you will come away with me to-morrow?

_Diana._ Yes. (_To the audience_) Oh, I've only got eighteen months---- (_To_ Furness) Excuse me, Philip, this is a soliloquy; would you mind not listening for a moment? (_He turns away and prepares the supper._) Oh, I've only got eighteen months more, and I want to _live_! I want to talk on the telephone to people, and keep on changing my clothes, and recite--and--and--_Philip_! You _don't_ mean to say those are _marrons glacés_ you've got there?

_Furness._ Rather. Don't you like 'em?

_Diana._ How dare you? You _know_ the doctors won't let me touch them.

_Furness._ My dear, you never told me what the doctors said to you. What did they say?

_Diana._ Well, anyhow, they said, "No more _marrons glacés_."

_Furness._ Really, Diana, how could I know?