Chapter 3

Examined by Sir Leonardo Spaghetti Coyne, Mr. Hole said that he was not aware that the mortality among monkeys employed in the piano-organ industry during the late War was excessive. But he agreed that the fearlessness shown by the monkeys at the Zoo in the course of air-raids deserved a special decoration.

Mr. William Susie, who next occupied the chair, was examined by Mr. Moody MacTear on the question of the nationalisation of Royalty Ballads.

Mr. MacTear, quoting an estimate by a Fellow of the Thermaëro-statistical Society, that the ballad composers of the country could produce one hundred and ninety thousand million ballads in five hundred and eighty years, asked the witness whether it would be legitimate that a royalty charge should be made on every ballad produced during that period for the benefit of certain individuals of future generations. Mr. Susie replied that the State had recognised the right of royalties and therefore he saw no good reason for discontinuing the charge.

_Mr. Gladney Jebb_. Are you aware that there have been more cases of influenza amongst people who have attended Royalty Ballad concerts in 1918 than amongst all the troops who served on the Palestine Front since 1916? Mr. Susie challenged Mr. Jebb to produce his statistics, and it was arranged, at the suggestion of the President, that Mr. Jebb should be given facilities to proceed to Jericho and collect them.

After the luncheon interval Mr. Cyril Blunt read a report, which he had prepared at the request of the Commission, on the Nationalisation of the Folk-song Industry. He said that it was a scandalous paradox that this natural and obvious reform had hitherto been successfully resisted by unscrupulous individualistic action. Folk-tunes were the product of and belonged to the People, but they had been seized, exploited and perverted by composers, who should be forced to refund the profits they had derived from their robbery. The conservation of our national musical resources should be jealously guarded, and the collection, notation and harmonisation of these tunes carried on under rigorous State supervision. At the same time the State might issue licences for the symphonic use of folk-tunes, the profits from the sale of these licences to be devoted to the maintenance of village festivals, at which only genuine folk-music should be performed by the oldest inhabitants.

Asked by Sir Mark Holloway what he meant by genuine folk-music, Mr. Blunt said, "Tunes of which it is impossible to assign the authorship to a known composer."

Mr. Kilcrankie Fox, who was the next witness, was subjected to a very searching examination by Mr. Moody MacTear, Mr. Gladney Jebb and Sir Leonardo Spaghetti Coyne.

_Mr. Moody MacTear_. Are you aware that brass instrument players are habitually sweated in orchestras and bands?--It depends on what you mean. I certainly admit that their activities often conduce to profuse perspiration.

_Mr. Moody MacTear_. Have you ever played the trombone yourself?--No, nor the lyre either.

_Mr. Gladney Jebb_. Are you prepared to deny that the strain on the nerves of players in Jazz-bands, especially drums, is greater than that endured by soldiers in the front-line trenches during an intense bombardment?--As a rule I am prepared to deny at sight any statement for which you are responsible, but I concede you the big drum.

_Sir Leonardo Spaghetti Coyne_. Are you aware that, owing to profiteering in the cloth trade, organ-grinders have been unable to provide their Simian assistants with proper habiliments during the recent inclement weather?--"Apes are apes though clothed in scarlet"--or broadcloth. I have not noticed any shabbiness of late in the garb of those with whom I am acquainted.

The Commission broke up at a late hour. At the next meeting evidence will be taken on the subject of the housing of musical seals and the alleged profiteering of dealers in burnt cork at the expense of players in Jazz-bands.

* * * * *

"FOR SALE,

STANDARD BABY.

Lately overhauled."

_Cape Times._

Inhuman, we call it.

* * * * *

THE CONQUERING CELT.

[Mr. ROBERT O'LOUGHRAN, writing in _The Times_ of May 2nd, observes, "The Celt is tattooed in his cradle with this historic belief in his race--a free Ireland."]

The Sassenach, stodgy and prosy, Lacks any distinguishing mark; The Semite has merely been nosey Right back to the days of the Ark; The Teuton proclaims himself _edel_ And points to his family tree; But the Celt is tattooed in his cradle With "Erin the Free."

Some races inherit a stigma, And some find a spur in their past, But Ireland's ancestral enigma Has now been unravelled at last; For the Celt, the original Gaidel, Apart from his proud pedigree, Is always tattooed in his cradle With "Erin the Free."

The actual process of branding I dare not attempt to describe; Some themes are too high and outstanding For bards of the doggerel tribe; But patriot minstrels will ladle Out lauds on the parents who see That the Celt is tattooed in his cradle With "Erin the Free."

* * * * *

AT THE PLAY.

"JUDITH."

That Mr. ARNOLD BENNETT was actuated by the very highest motives when he set out to edit the Apocryphal Scriptures for stage purposes, nobody would dream of doubting. It is the more unfortunate that by making the rest of the play very dull he should have thrown into relief certain features in the story of _Judith_ which the original author had preferred to treat with a commendable reticence.

It will be recalled that in the ancient version _Holofernes_ made a feast for _Judith_ "and drank much more wine than he had drunk at any time in one day since he was born;" that he then lay down on his bed in a state of stupor, and that _Judith_, taking advantage of his torpid condition, "approached" and cut off his head at her leisure with his own "fauchion." The decency of this arrangement is easily apparent; it obviated the necessity for wanton allurements on the part of _Judith_ and amorous advances on the side of the Commander-in-Chief. Incidentally it is more reasonable to assume that so virile a warrior would yield to nothing short of intoxication than that he would be persuaded, while still remaining sober, to take a brief rest (on the ground of temporary indisposition) and so go like a lamb to the slaughter, as he does in the play.

To do Miss LILLAH MCCARTHY justice, she went through a scene embarrassing alike to actors and audience with as much dignity and aloofness as the situation admitted. In a previous scene there had been one rather gratuitous posture which we might perhaps have been spared; but, for the rest, from the moment when she first entered, a noble figure in her robes of widowhood, veiling all but the oval of her face, pale and passionless, she played with a fine restraint, giving us confidence in her reserve of strength and never once allowing her high purpose to be forgotten.

It was not her fault if, in the night scene, amid a generous exposure of physical facts, we missed the less palpable atmosphere of impending doom. Certainly the _Holofernes_ of Mr. CLAUDE KING never for a moment suggested it. I admit that I had not hitherto seen an Assyrian officer making love on the edge of his grave and so had no exact precedent to go by, but this officer, with his face far too well groomed for the conclusion of a heavy banquet, and those rather anaemic and perfunctory gestures of endearment, which had nothing to do with the sombre forces of elemental passion, gave no hint of the sinister workings of Fate.

This lack of atmosphere pervaded G.H.Q. Apart from Miss MCCARTHY, Mr. THESIGER, whose performance as _Bagoas_ must have astonished those who only knew him on the stage as a frivolous _flâneur_, was the sole character who conveyed any sense of the general uncanniness of things.

Mr. ARNOLD BENNETT'S own novelties--the very rapid fraternization of _Judith's_ little Cockney maid with the enemy; her own inexplicable love-at-first-sight for an Ammonite pervert; the laborious pretentiousness of _Ozias_, the Governor of Bethulia; the tedious garrulity of the oldest inhabitant, and the topical reference, in the manner of pantomime, to the War of 1914-1918 A.D.--these offered no great improvement on the original narrative. On the other hand his neglect to show us the head of _Holofernes_, which constitutes so dramatic a property in the Book of Judith, was a noticeable omission. But perhaps he was well-advised to leave it out, for I thought I detected the significant presence of Mr. BILLING in the stalls.

I ought perhaps to add that there was a _Messenger_ whose refinement of speech greatly struck me. He said that he came from Jerusalem, but he sounded as if he came from Balliol.

O.S.

* * * * *

"A party of police have been stationed in and around the premises, and to-day their number were augmented by a party of Scottish Horse Marines."--_Cork Paper_.

We are glad to see this historic unit bobbing up again.

* * * * *

C.K.S. AND U.S.A.

The news that our own and only C.K.S.--the "Great Clem of Literature," and the "Wee Cham of Literature," as he is alternatively and affectionately known to the members of the Johnson Club--was on his way to America aroused the liveliest excitement among our fellow-war-winners, and preparations on a grand scale were made for his reception. The statue of Liberty was transformed to resemble Mnemosyne (pronounced more or less to rhyme with limousine), the mother of the Muses, and a bodyguard of poets, novelists, writers, journalists and brainy boys generally was drawn up on the quay.

As soon as the new Columbus was through the Customs these formed a procession and escorted him to his hotel, where a private suite had been engaged, with hot and cold ink laid on.

At a banquet given by the Highbrow Club in the evening the illustrious visitor was the principal guest. As a pretty compliment the floral decorations were all of shamrock, and everything in the menu was Spherical, or nearly so, beginning with radishes and passing on to rissoles, dumplings, potatoes and globe artichokes, plum pudding and tapioca. Humorous allusions to the Eastern and Western Clemi-spheres were of constant occurrence.

In response to the toast of "Literature, Ancient and Modern," coupled with the name of its most vigilant champion, Mr. SHORTER said that he was indeed happy to be on soil hallowed by association with so many writers of merit. To name them would be invidious, but he might say that he had enjoyed the pleasure of intimate correspondence with a large number of them, all of whom had testified to the value which they set upon his friendship. Although he looked upon himself as the least of men (cries of "No, no"), yet he should always be proud to remember that some of his criticisms had not fallen on stony ground. (Loud cheers.) He had in his pocket friendly letters from men whose eminence would electrify his hearers. (Sensation.) He would not read them (moans of despair) because that would be to break the seal of secrecy. (Loud cheers and singing "For he's a jolly Shortfellow.")

Mr. SHORTER'S main purpose is to meet the best American minds in friendly intercourse and thus to promote Britannico-Columbian amity and an even freer interchange of ideas than the theatre now ensures. To this end he has visited or will visit every place of importance, including the Bowery, China Town, Uncle Tom's Cabin, the Yosemite Valley, Niagara, Tuxedo, Chicago, the Waldorf-Astoria, Bunker's Hill, Milwaukee, Chautauqua, the Clover Club, Greenwich Village and Troy.

Mr. SHORTER'S visit to America is otherwise a purely private one. More Irish than the Irish though he is known to be, he has for the moment sheathed his shillelagh. None the less, the condition of Ireland being so critical, he hopes to address a few meetings on the aspirations of his adopted country.

Although the tour is of this private character, Mr. SHORTER is not unprepared to record his opinions as they occur to him or to continue to nourish his mind on the latest productions of the human intellect. His travelling entourage comprises a brace of highly-trained typists, a librarian, the Keeper of the Paper-knife and a faithful stenographer known as "Boswell," who is pledged to miss none of the Master's _dicta_. During the voyage Mr. SHORTER had the services of a special Marconi operator, so that he might receive half-hourly bulletins as to the state of the publishing world, contents of the literary papers, deaths of editors and fellow-critics, new knighthoods and so forth. The Atlantic, on the whole, did not displease him.

Details of the tour which have already reached home indicate that its success is profound.

At Boston Mr. SHORTER, although his visit was brief, found time to deliver his famous _causerie_, "Men of Letters Whom I have Influenced," with special reference to GEORGE MEREDITH.

At Waterbury (which there is some possibility of renaming Shorterbury) the great critic was made the recipient of an address of welcome and a watch.

At Pittsburg the freedom of the Carnegie Libraries all over the world was conferred upon him by the famous iron-master.

At Haworth (Minn.) Mr. SHORTER presented the postmaster with an autographed copy of his _magnum opus_ on the BRONTËS.

At Salt Lake City he enchanted the Mormon Elders by anecdotes of THACKERAY'S relations with their namesake, the London publisher.

At Peoria (Ill.) he kept his audience in roars by recounting the good sayings of his critical _confrère_, Sir WILLIAM ROBERTSON NICOLL.

At Philadelphia a very old man, who claimed to be a younger brother of _Mr. Rochester_ (in _Jane Eyre_), publicly embraced the illustrious visitor and borrowed two dollars.

The rumour that Mr. SHORTER is to be appointed as our Ambassador in Washington must not be too lightly dismissed. America often sends us a man of letters--LOWELL, for example, and HAY. Why should we not return the compliment? It would be a better appointment than many that could be named.

The fact cannot be concealed that at home the absence of Mr. SHORTER in America is seriously felt. Fleet Street wears a bereaved air and Dublin is conscious of a poignant loss. As for our authors, they are in a state of dismay; some, it is true, like mice when the cat is away, are taking liberties, but most are paralysed by the knowledge that the watchful eye is not there, the hand, so instant to blame or praise, is resting. Even publishers, normally an insensitive race are shaken, and books that were to have been issued have been held back. For what is the use of bringing out new books if C.K.S. is not here to pass definitive comments upon them before their ink is dry?

England's loss is, however, America's gain. A new cocktail has been named after him.

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE PEACE TREATY.

What really impressed the Germans most of all with the power of the Big Four was the third clause of Section 3, as given in the Press:--

"LEFT BANK OF THE RHINE.

... Germany must not maintain or construct any fortifications less than fifty kilomètres to the East of the Rhine."

Even WILHELM himself never succeeded in reversing the course of this famous river.

* * * * *

"The fifth issue of The Indian Year Book is issued a little later than the earlier editions. For this the Editor would ask immunity."--_Preface to "The Indian Year Book_."

Granted. Mr. Punch invariably adopts the same order of procedure in regard to his own publications.

* * * * *

MORE ALLEVIATIONS.

The late JAMES PAYN, who, as is well known, waged a merciless war against sham admiration in literature, happened one day to hear me quote that tremendous fellow, SIBRANDUS SCHAFNABURGENSIS. The particular lines I mean are those in which he says:--

"Then I went indoors, brought out a loaf, Half a cheese and a bottle of Chablis; Lay on the grass and forgot the oaf Over a jolly chapter of Rabelais."

Mr. PAYN remarked sharply:--

"It would cost him some trouble to find one. I've never found a jolly chapter of RABELAIS in my life, and what's more I mean to say so some day and watch the faces."

Well, Mr. PAYN believed in stating his own views truthfully. No doubt the necessity of finding a rhyme for "Chablis" had something to do with the appearance of RABELAIS' name at the end of that line. But _that_ cannot have been the reason why POPE, being under no compulsion of rhyme, brought RABELAIS into his lines:--

"O thou! whatever title please thine ear, Dean, Drapier, Bickerstaff or Gulliver! Whether thou choose Cervantes' serious air Or laugh and shake in Rabelais' easy-chair."

I don't much care whether I have quoted correctly or not. I suggested last week in these columns that one might be allowed, as a compensation for advancing years, to use one's quotations without fastidious regard for their accuracy. On consideration I don't see why this liberty should not be even further extended. I can see ("in my mind's eye, Horatio") whole masterpieces coming within its scope and yielding with a sufficiently bad grace to a courageous candour like JAMES PAYN'S. Why should _Don Quixote_, for instance, tyrannise over us? He has had a good innings, in the course of which, it is only fair to acknowledge, he has been enormously helped by his henchman, _Sancho Panza_, a fellow of infinite wit, no doubt. There are however readers who set up these two as idols and would compel us to kneel to them, especially when _Sancho_ receives the appointment of Governor of Barataria. I acknowledge I am a constant devotee of _Don Quixote_ and his _Sancho_, but it is conceivable that there are people who have no liking for them. Let such, if they are old enough, proclaim it, as JAMES PAYN did his opinion about RABELAIS' fun.

I should like to bring certain long poems of universal renown within the scope of my principle. What about _Paradise Lost_? Did any woman, except perhaps GEORGE ELIOT, ever read it throughout unless under scholastic compulsion? I doubt it; her sense of humour would not allow her to. Take, for instance, the following lines, describing the simple amusements of our first parents:--

"About them frisking played All beasts of the earth since wild, and of all chase In wood or wilderness, forest or den. Sporting the lion ramped, and in his paw Dandled the kid; bears, tigers, ounces, pards, Gambolled before them; the unwieldy elephant, To make them mirth, used all his might, and wreathed His lithe proboscis."

Now, if anybody does not like MILTON'S fun, why, in the name of a "lithe proboscis," should he not say so--in his mature middle-age?

* * * * *

"There is a shamelessness among many in both high and low life that calls for vehement protest. The question with many seems to be how near they can come to the verge of decency without falling over."--_Ashore and Afloat_.

We have noticed a few who have had quite a narrow escape.

* * * * *

WAY OUT.

_(Thoughts on leaving the Crystal Palace.)_

A brigadier or two beside the portal To cry to me with anguish half disguised, "Hail and farewell, O brother! pomp is mortal"-- Something, I fancied, something of this sort'll Happen to me when I'm demobilised.

That was an error. Not a drum was sounded; No personage, no panoply, no pep; Only a single private who expounded My pathway out, and I went forth dumbfounded; Merely remembering to mind the step.

Nothing spectacular and nothing solemn; No company of men that I might drill, And either tick 'em off or else extol 'em And give 'em "Facing left, advance in column," And leave 'em marching, marching onwards till

They butted into something. Never a blooming Ultimate kit-inspection as I passed, Nor sound of Sergeant-majors' voices booming, Nor weary stance while _aides-de-camp_ were fuming, Not even a practice fire-drill at the last.

And that's the end. To-morrow I'll awaken To meet a world of doubtfulness and gloom, By orders and by Adjutants forsaken, And none to tell what action should be taken, If any, through what channels, and by whom.

But dreams remain amidst the new disaster: There shall be visions when the firelight burns-- Squads of recruits for ever doubling faster, Fresh clothing-issues from the Quartermaster And audit boards and absentee returns.

I shall forget awhile civilian fashions And watch the P.T. merchants on the square, And polish tins and soothe the Colonel's passions, And mount the guard and go and see the rations And bid departed days be "as you were."

And souvenirs! I know there are a number Who stuff their homes with memories of dread; The ancient hat-stand in the hall encumber With _Pickelhaubes_ and delight to slumber With heaps of nasty nose-caps round their bed.

Not I, the bard. When delicately suited I move again amid the _mufti_ swarms, Since trophies from the Front may be disputed, I'll flaunt the only spoils that I have looted, My little library of Army forms.

EVOE.

* * * * *

"RANTZAU'S INSOLENT ACT."

Under this heading _The Daily Mail_ states that before entering the Trianon Palace Hotel to meet the Allies, Count BROCKDORFF-RANTZAU took "a last deliberate puff at his cigarette," and "dropped it on the steps, in the middle of a group of Allied officials." We understand that our contemporary feels that it would have been more in keeping with Germany's political and economic position had the Count humbly extinguished the cigarette and placed it in his waistcoat-pocket for future use.

* * * * *

"Spitable offices will be placed at the disposal of the German Peace delegates."--_Evening Paper_.

It is the truest hospitality to make provision for your guests' peculiarities.

* * * * *

* * * * *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

_(By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks.)_