Chapter 1

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

VOL. 150.

APRIL 12, 1916

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CHARIVARIA.

We are in a position to state that the efficiency of Germany's new submersible Zeppelins has been greatly exaggerated.

***

Many schemes for coping with our £2,100,000,000 War indebtedness are before the authorities, and at least one dear old lady has written suggesting that they should hold a bazaar.

***

It is stated that the monkey market at Constantinople, which for hundreds of years has supplied the baboons found in Turkish harems, has closed down. German competition is said to be responsible for the incident.

***

The Government's indifference to the balloon type of aircraft has received a further illustration. They have rejected Highgate's fat conscript.

***

German scientists are now making explosives out of heather. Fortunately the secret of making Highlanders out of the same material still remains in our hands.

***

Deference to one's superiors in rank is all very well up to a point, but we should never go so far as to allow an article by a titled war-correspondent to be headed "The Great Offensive at Verdun."

***

British songsters, says a writer in _The Daily Chronicle_, are now being illegally used to regale the wealthy gourmets of the West End in place of the foreign varieties, which can no longer be imported. For ourselves, who are nothing if not British, we are glad of any sign that native musicians are coming by their own.

***

The practice of interning travellers in Tube and other stations during the progress of Zeppelin raids on the North-East Coast having become extremely popular, it is suggested that some much-needed revenue might be obtained by imposing a small tax--a penny, say, per hour--upon those who thus enjoy the protection and hospitality of our railways.

***

It is officially announced that Oxford is to have no more Rhodes Kolossals.

***

Lord ROBERT CECIL admitted in Parliament last week that the contraband list is to be enlarged, and it is rumoured that, notwithstanding the serious effect the step may have in the United States and elsewhere, the list will be extended to include munitions of war.

***

A prominent City barber points out to an _Evening News_ correspondent that it would be most unfortunate if the high cost of shaves should result in a discontinuance of the practice of tipping the operator, and adds that only two of the services have increased in price. He means, of course, to draw attention to the fact that sporting chatter, dislocation of the neck, and the removal of superfluous portions of the ears are still provided free of charge.

* * * * *

Anti-Climax.

From a _feuilleton_ (showing what our serial fictionists have to put up with):--

"'To-morrow?' repeated Rosalie, dully. 'I'm afraid I can't to-morrow.'

To-morrow----!

There will be another fine instalment to-morrow."--_Daily Mirror._

* * * * *

OF COCOA

AND CERTAIN OLD ASSOCIATIONS REVIVED BY A DRAUGHT OF THIS NUTRITIOUS BEAN.

["The rate on cocoa is raised from 1-1/2_d._ to 6_d._ per lb." (Loud cheers).

_The CHANCELLOR'S Budget Speech._]

Now, ere the price thereof goes soaring up, Ere yet the devastating tax comes in, I wish to wallow in the temperate cup (Loud cheers) that not inebriates, like gin; Ho, waiter! bring me--nay, I do not jest-- A cocoa of the best!

Noblest of all non-alcoholic brews, Rich nectar of the Nonconformist Press, Tasting of CADBURY and _The Daily News_, Of passive martyrs and the law's distress, And redolent of the old narcotic spice Of peace-at-any-price--

What memories, how intolerably sweet, Hover about its fat and unctuous fumes! Of Little England and a half-baked Fleet, Of German friendship pure as vernal blooms, And that dear country's hallowed right to dump Things on us in the lump;

Of tropic isles whereon this beverage springs, And niggers sweating out their pagan souls; Of British workmen, flattered even as kings, So to secure their suffrage at the polls; Of liberty for all to go on strike Just when and where they like.

I would renew these wistful dreams to-night; For, since upon my precious nibs, when ground, McKENNA's minions, with to-morrow's light, Will plant a tax of sixpence in the pound, My sacred memories, cheap enough before, Will clearly cost me more.

O. S.

* * * * *

ANOTHER SCRAP OF PAPER.

I look all right, and I feel all right, but the doctor said the Army was no place for me. Having given me a piece of paper which said so, he looked over my head and called out, "Next, please." It was with this document I was going to produce a delicious thrill--what I might call an "electric" moment. I carefully rehearsed what should happen, though I was not quite sure what attitude to adopt--whether to give the impression that I was a member of a pacific society, look elaborately unconcerned or truculently youthful. This, I decided, had better be left to the psychological moment.

I would take my seat or strap in the crowded tram or train. Observing that I wore neither khaki nor armlet someone would want to know why "a big, strong, healthy-looking fellow like you was not in the Army." I should then try to look pacific or elaborately--see above again. But I should say nothing. My studied silence would annoy everybody. I was quite sure of this, because I really can do that sort of silence very well. The inevitable old woman with a bundle would fix me with her watery eye. "The man in the street," who, of course, would now be in the tram or train, would give a brief history of his three sons and one brother-in-law at the Front. The armleted conductor (we are now in the tram) would give my ticket a very rude punch and my penny a very angry stare. When I was quite sure I had been set down as a slacker, I should produce the doctor's certificate of exemption. In my ultra-polite manner, which is nearly as good as my annoying silence, I should hand it to the man whose three sons and one brother-in-law had evidently been writing for more cigarettes. I would then say, "I know you can talk. It is possible you can read. Would you be good enough to read aloud this certificate?" It would be read and then handed back to me. I would fold it carefully and place it in my inside pocket. Looking very tenderly at the long row of rebuked countenances, I should get up and make for the door. This would be the delicious thrill, the electric moment. The following is what _did_ happen.

I was on the Tube. Conditions were favourable, as Sir OLIVER LODGE would say to Mrs. PIPER. The old woman with the bundle was not there, but the shop-girl with three regimental brooches was. Everything was going as well as I could have wished. The shop-girl closed her novel and fingered her brooches. A fat old gentleman sniffed vigorously, and someone asked why "a big, strong, healthy, etc., etc." Nobody seemed to be impressed by my splendid silence, but it was there all the same, and somebody was going to be very sorry before he got home. I touched my tie and lit a fresh cigarette. The air was tense. I could almost see my electric moment walking down the compartment to meet me. We were nearing a station. I felt in my pocket.

I had left the certificate at home!

* * * * *

HOME HELPS FOR NON-COMBATANTS.

THE ARMY AND NAVY EXEMPTIONS SUPPLY ASSOCIATION, LIMITED, offer facilities for the evasion of military service.

* * * * *

Ladies supplied to act as Widowed Stepmothers to young Slackers.

* * * * *

Gentlemen not desirous of serving should inspect one of our Bijou Residences. Bath (h. and c.); rent inclusive. District enjoys best water supply and most lenient Exemption Tribunal in the Home Counties.

* * * * *

Persons requiring the Loan of Children may obtain these useful aids to exemption in lots of not less than half-a-dozen (mixed), by the day, week, or month, as desired.

* * * * *

FLAT FOOT IN TWELVE DAYS! A GENUINE DISCOVERY.

Gentlemen wishing to acquire this useful impediment may do so with secrecy and despatch on application (with fee). No _permanent_ disability need be feared, a certain cure being guaranteed within one calendar month after date of signing peace, upon payment of a further fee.

* * * * *

LEARN TO FAINT.

One Correspondence Course will teach you this useful art in two and a half lessons.

* * * * *

Do you want not to go to the Front? Then try our LITTLE WHITE LIVER PILLS and you will never have another worry. _Dose:_ One, once. Sold everywhere.

* * * * *

HOW TO LOOK OLD. A USEFUL WRINKLE.

No more worry. No matter _how_ youthful your appearance, in TEN MINUTES we can make you look

AS GREY AS GRANDPA.

Call and inspect our appliances. They will convince you.

* * * * *

Are you a MAN OF GENIUS? And young? And in perfect health? We will see that you are saved for your country. In the words of one of our exempted clients:--

"For why should youth aglow with gifts divine Be driven forth to glut the foreign swine?"

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* * * * *

* * * * *

THE WATCH DOGS.

XXXVII.

MY DEAR CHARLES,--This letter is written in England, but the reason for my presence here is not to be dismissed in a breath or mentioned first anyhow. It is to be led up to gradually, the music being stopped and the audience being asked to refrain from shuffling their feet about and coughing when we come to the critical moment.

Reviewing my military career, I do not look upon myself as great; I look upon myself rather as very great. Even at the beginning of it I had a distinct way with me. I would say to fifty men, "Form fours," and sure enough they would form them. I would then rearrange my ideas and say, "Form two-deep," and there, in the twinkling of an eye, was your two deep. This is not common, I think; it was just something in me, some peculiar gift for which I was not responsible. So pleasing was the effect that I would sometimes go on repeating the process for ten minutes or so, and every time it fell out exactly as I said it would, no one ever daring to suggest that the sooner I settled down to a definite policy, whether in fours or twos, the sooner the War would end.

For six months I continued performing this difficult and dangerous work, only once making the mistake of ordering my men to take a left turn and myself taking a right one. Fortunately this happened in a local town of tortuous by-ways, and so it fell out that I and my platoon only met again later in the day; and a most touching meeting it was. Discussing the matter afterwards with my C.O., I inclined to the view that it was an accident which I, for my part, was quite ready to forgive and forget. My C.O. was, however, out of sorts at the moment; in fact he let his tongue run away with him. He even proposed to put me on the Barrack Square for a month, a suggestion which caused my Adjutant (who was interfering as usual) to smile quite unpleasantly. I just looked them straight in the face and said nothing. This, I think, was little short of masterly on my part, since I knew all the time, and knew that they know, that there was in fact no Barrack Square thereabouts to put me on.

After this my men did so extraordinarily well that I became a marked man. I was, in fact, invited to step over to France and to give some practical demonstrations in the art of making war. To pack a few articles into a bag and to parade my men was with me the work of a moment. Before starting it was, however, proper to address a pre-battle speech to them. Silence was enjoined and I spoke, spoke simply and honestly as a great soldier should. "Form fours," said I, and paused dramatically. "Form two-deep," I continued, and my meaning was understood. "Form fours," I concluded ... and we were ready for the worst.

So we moved away for the Field. We did this, I remember, at 5 A.M. Not a moment was to be lost. Our train started at noon and we had three miles to march to the station. Running it pretty close, wasn't it?

Never shall I forget the anxious faces which greeted our arrival at the French port. "Nip up to the trenches," said O.C. megaphone, "and save the situation if you can." Up to the trenches we nipped, covering the distance of sixty miles in less than three weeks. There was no doubt about our willingness and ability to do as we were told; our only difficulty was to discover in the dark where the situation was. Never shall I forget the tense strain that first night, my men standing to arms through the long hours, with their rifles pointing into the darkness beyond. But not a shot was fired, and when dawn broke all was well. True, the first light revealed the fact that I had got us all with our backs to the enemy, so that if there had been a battle it would have been between ourselves and Mr. Jones's platoon. But you can't have everything; and sense of direction never was my strong point. Never shall I forget our first breakfast in the trenches. It consisted of bacon and eggs, marmalade and tea. How strange and novel an experience it was to be at war!

Never shall I forget.... Now I know there was something else, but there are such a lot of things that I am never going to forget about this War that I cannot be expected to remember them all. It was something about someone not shaving, and being in the rear rank while the front rank was being inspected, and in the front rank while the rear rank was being inspected. It was by such brilliance of strategy as this that I was able to do the Bosch out of that little dinner he meant to have in Paris. It was owing to the same, and to my being overheard to remark that I could run the blessed War by myself better than this, that I was given a pen and a piece of blotting-paper and told to carry on. After which, of course, the wretched Bosch never even got as far as Calais.

Truly a remarkable man! But hear the crisis of my career.

This letter is written in England. If you would only read your morning paper properly, you would know why. Looking down the Births Column to see if anybody you know has been born, you would have noticed that We, Henry, are the father of a son, a tall, good-looking fellow, who weighs eight, eighteen or eighty pounds (I could not be sure which) and is a man of few words, obviously the strong silent sort.

On hearing the news we at once reported our achievement to the Staff and asked what we were to do about it. We were informed that, as far as we were concerned, the War stood adjourned for eight days. Later, as we stood in the street trying to think it all out and to remodel our demeanour so as to suggest the responsibility and respectability of a father, we were asked severely why we were standing idle, and told that, unless we were seen forthwith moving off for England at the double, action would be taken. So home, where we were very respectfully saluted by the New Draft. A strange but nice woman who had the parade in hand invited us to come a little closer, but this we refused to do, giving as our reason that we were beginning as we meant to go on and that undue familiarity is bad for discipline. We then addressed a few kind words to the Lady in the Case, who appeared to take it all very much as a matter of course, and with her discussed future dispositions. The Army and the Bar were negatived at once; it was suggested (not by us) that we have already in our small family an example sufficiently fortunate of both. He will be a sailor or a financier. There is something about sailors; it is always a pleasure and a pride to take one of them out to dinner in a public place, especially if he's your own. On the other hand the financier alternative is suggested with a view to the possibility (as things tend) that it may be he who has to take us out to dinner.

Yours ever, HENRY.

* * * * *

* * * * *

"The fall of rain during February in Exeter amounted to 5.39 inches. During the same month 80 hours 58 mins. of sunshine were recorded, being an average of 2 hours 42 mins. per day. The chief tradesmen of the district are responsible for this gratifying result."

_Express and Echo (Exeter)._

They seem to be easily satisfied down in the West. If London tradesmen take to purveying the weather we shall want a little less rain and a good deal more sunshine.

* * * * *

IN PRAISE OF PUSSY.

[Professor ROBERT WALLACE, of Edinburgh University, has been defending the cat as a useful member of society and a defence against the ravages of plague, and encourages the breeding, collecting and distributing of types of cats known to be "superior ratters."]

In these days of stress and passion Feline charms are out of fashion, And the cult of Pasht is coldly looked upon; But cat-lovers may take solace From the words of ROBERT WALLACE, Who's a scientific Edinboro' don.

Cats as lissome merry minxes, Or impenetrable Sphinxes-- Leonine, aloof, impassive, topaz-eyed-- Leave our staid professor chilly, For he clearly thinks it silly To regard them from the decorative side.

It is _not_ their grace, now serious, Now malicious, now mysterious, That appeals to his utilitarian mind; But, when viewed as extirpators Of disease-disseminators, Then he looks with admiration on their kind.

For if cats should ever shun us Rats with plague would overrun us, And they're bad enough on economic grounds; For their annual depredation On the food-stuffs of the nation He would estimate at twenty million pounds.

True, O Puss, romance is lacking In your latest champion's backing, But at least he isn't talking through his hat; And if, after all, what matters Is to have "superior ratters"-- Well, he pays the highest homage to the Cat.

* * * * *

HEROISM.

There are heroes and heroes. All heroes are heroes: that is certain. But there are some heroes whose heroism involves more thought (shall I say?), more material, than that of others, who are heroic in a kind of rush, without any premeditation--heroic by instinct. Now it seems to me that the rewards of the more complex heroes ought--but let me illustrate.

I have a friend who is a hero. The other day in France he did one of the most desperate things, and did it apparently as a matter of course; and he is to have the V.C. for it. But is the V.C. enough'? If it's enough for the instinctive heroes, is it enough for him? That is my question. The secret history of his deed is known only to me and to himself, and when I give you an idea of it you will be able to answer.

I will tell you.

Never mind what the deed was. All I will say is that it is comparable to the glorious feat of Lieutenant WARNEFORD, who bombed the Zeppelin from above and sent it crashing down. My friend is an aviator too, and since I am not allowed to describe his great performance in detail let us pretend that it was an exact replica of the WARNEFORD triumph. Armed with his bombs he saw the approaching Zepp and flew high, six or seven thousand feet, to get above it. So far he had merely obeyed the dictates of his brave impulsive nature. He had given no thought to the chances of danger or death, but had flown direct to his duty. So far he was instinctive. But my friend, as well as being unusually brave, is a singularly retiring kind of man. He hates publicity, ostentation. Very shy and very quiet, he moves about the world unperceived, and has all the reluctances of the anchorite. Nothing but his deep feeling about the War could have got him to do anything as prominent as aviation, so that it is not unnatural that, as he mounted higher and higher and came nearer and nearer to the desired point over the Zepp, he should suddenly realise what it would mean for him if he succeeded in bringing it down.

Not that he had too much time for such reflections, for until the envelope intervened between him and the Zepp's marksmen he was being blazed at steadily. Bullets whistled about him. But one thinks swiftly, and in a flash he saw the extremely distasteful consequences to humility, and the dislocation of his secluded way of life if, dropping his bombs accurately, he earned (as he was bound to do) the Victoria Cross. All this he saw, and was properly furious at his bad luck--at the trick that destiny had played on him. He then dropped the bombs, the envelope ignited, and the Zepp, with its crew and its deadly cargo, fell to earth and was blown to atoms.

Now my point is that for such a hero as my friend, whose whole soul is to be outraged by publicity and _réclame_, and much of whose dearly loved privacy is to be lost for ever, there ought to be a V.C. above and beyond the ordinary V.C.--a super V.C.; for he performed not one deed, but two: he not only destroyed the Zepp but he surrendered his sanctuary.

* * * * *

An Exhibition of Mr. Punch's War Cartoons is now being held at the Leicester Galleries, Leicester Square.

* * * * *

TO THE PRINCE OF ARTILLERYMEN

WHO RECENTLY BROUGHT DOWN A ZEPPELIN.

When, Gunner, through the breech you passed That wingéd messenger of death, And having made the breech-block fast, With pounding heart and bated breath Drew back the rod of tempered steel That frees the charge and fires the fuse, I would have given much to feel My feet in your distinguished shoes.

But when your deadly missile burst Right on the rover, checked his speed, And made him rock like one whose thirst Has frankly caused him to exceed, You must have felt as feels a god To whom whole nations bend the knee-- Whichever of the dozen odd Disputant gunners you may be.

* * * * *

"Who can tell but what Rumania's watchful eye will yet sound the bugle note which at the psychological moment will unite the Balkan thrones?"--_Shanghai Mercury._

Rumania seems to have something more than a speaking eye. It even plays tunes.

* * * * *

From a German paper quoted by _The Times_:--

"The German people fully recognises the nicely retiring manner of the Kaiser during this war."

The Allies are confident that it will receive further recognition before long.

* * * * *

In an article entitled "The Superiority of German Strategy" the _Frankfurter Zeitung_ says:--

"The road before us is, however, long and calls for great achievements. We are not lacking in strength. Let us wait and see."

Mr. ASQUITH is wondering what this flattery portends.

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