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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI
VOL. 146
FEBRUARY 4, 1914
CHARIVARIA.
The statement, made at the inquiry into the Dublin strike riots, that 245
policemen were injured during the disturbances has, we hear, done much to
allay the prevailing discontent among the belabouring classes.
* * *
"COALING THE STORES" is a headline which caught our eye in a newspaper last
week. To be followed, after the strike, we imagine, by "STORING THE COALS."
* * *
A Russian officer, last week, shot the leader of a gipsy choir in a St.
Petersburg restaurant, not because he sang out of tune but merely because
he expressed resentment at the officer's conduct towards his daughter. It
is thought that the incident may lead to an Entente between Germany and
Russia.
* * *
Our Navy standard of 16 _Dreadnoughts_ to 10 of the next most powerful Navy
is, says Mr. C. P. TREVELYAN, rough and ready. Well, in this matter our
standards may or may not be rough, but let's hope they're ready, anyhow.
* * *
An organisation called "The Parents' League" has been formed in New York
for the purpose of simplifying the lives of children. This has caused a
considerable amount of uneasiness in juvenile circles, and it is said that
a "Hands-off-our-jam" party has already been formed.
* * *
In a letter of Mrs. CARLYLE'S just published, the wife of the Chelsea sage
describes a cat as "a selfish, immoral, improper beast." This has given no
little satisfaction in canine circles, where the deceased lady is being
hailed as a human being with the insight of a dog.
* * *
_The Cambridge Review_ is talking of dropping the publication of the
University sermon. It is possible, however, that the mere threat may have
the effect of making the sermons more entertaining.
* * *
A volume entitled "The Great Scourge and How to End it" has made its
appearance. We had imagined this to be a treatise on the anarchist
activities of a certain section of the Suffragists until we discovered the
name of Miss CHRISTABEL PANKHURST as its authoress.
* * *
Messrs. HUTCHINSON'S interesting _History of the Nations_, the first part
of which has just appeared, is something more than a mere compilation of
facts already known to us. We had thought that both photography and limited
companies were comparatively recent inventions. An illustration, however,
in this new work, entitled "Charles I. going to execution," bears the
description, "Photo by Henry J. Mullen, Ltd."
* * *
Councillor SHERLOCK has been elected Lord Mayor of Dublin for the third
time in succession, and Sir ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE will be interested to hear
that there is some talk now of calling the local Mansion House "SHERLOCK'S
Home."
* * *
Belief in the innocence of the dove dies hard. At Driffield, last week, a
Mr. DOVE, who was charged with conducting a lottery, was acquitted in spite
of his pleading guilty.
* * *
A music-hall performer gave a turn in a King's Bench court the other day.
There was a time when a judge would have objected to his court being turned
into a theatre, but since the advent of comic judges the line of
demarcation has become blurred.
* * *
According to Dr. FRANK E. LAKEY, of the English High School, Boston,
U.S.A., boys are at their naughtiest between 3 and 4 P.M.; and at their
best at 10 A.M. But surely most boys are awake and out of bed at 10 A.M.?
* * *
"POPULAR MICROBES
AUDIENCE OF 2,000 AT A BLACKPOOL LECTURE."
_Daily News._
One is so accustomed to think of the little chaps in millions that this
seems rather a poor attendance.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE HELPMATE.
_Newly-wedded Husband_ (_fresh from the altar_). "EXCUSE ME TAKING THE
LIBERTY, SIR, BUT DO YOU HAPPEN TO KNOW OF ANY PLACE WHERE MY WIFE COULD
GET A LITTLE CHARRING TO DO?"]
* * * * *
HONORIFICS.
A cowardly hoax was recently perpetrated in Paris, where a number of
politicians consented to assist in raising a statue to Hégésippe Simon, the
educator of the Democracy and author of the famous epigram, "The darkness
vanishes when the sun rises," only to discover later that Hégésippe Simon
had never existed.
Needless to say, this has produced a profound impression upon public men in
this country, who are regarding invitations of a similar character with the
gravest suspicion.
For instance, Mr. WILLIAM ARCHER, on receiving a request for his assistance
in raising a monument to IBSEN, is reported to have replied cautiously that
he would like to know more about this writer before giving an answer.
Mr. CLEMENT SHORTER, on being asked to join the committee of a BRONTË
memorial, replied suspiciously, "Why do you ask _me_ of all people?"
Mr. J. L. GARVIN, on being approached on the subject of a bust of Mr.
FILSON YOUNG, is reported to have consulted his assistant-editor as to
whether the name might not be a pure invention; while Mr. G. K. CHESTERTON
remarked, when asked to assist in raising a bas-relief to CHARLES DICKENS,
that he didn't believe there was no such a person.
* * * * *
"Mr. M'Call, K.C., said Dr. Keats had charge of the boys in the
infirmary, and for the purpose of maintaining order he was sometimes
compelled to resort to corporal astonishment."--_Glasgow Daily
Record._
Billy Brown (_surprised_): "Ow!"
* * * * *
In our last issue, quoting from a Johannesburg telegram, we referred to
_The Evening Chronicle_ as a "Labour organ." Its London Manager writes
protesting against this description; and we now offer our heartiest regrets
for the grave injustice that we seem to have done to our South African
contemporary.
* * * * *
SMITHERS, B.C.
I saw it on a map, most large and fine
(I saw it with the naked eye--no dream),
Showing how trains upon the Grand Trunk line,
Grand but Pacific, run along by steam
Right to Prince Rupert on the sea (a port)
And there are brought up short.
Smithers! I saw it on a map, I say,
A panoramic map in Cockspur Street.
And sudden in my heart began to play
Echoes of old romance, and all my feet
Fluttered responsive to the name's sheer beauty,
So rhythmical and fluty.
Smithers! The music of it filled my mouth.
I saw Provence and that enchanted shore,
And lotus-isles amid the dreamy South,
And champions out of mediæval lore
Looking at large for ladies in distress
Round storied Lyonnesse.
I was a _trovatore_ (with guitar);
Venezia's airy domes above me shone;
I heard Alhambra's fountains, faint and far;
I broke the Kaliph's line at Carcassonne;
All kinds of lost chords latent in my withers
Woke at the name of Smithers.
Ah, if in Avalon's vale I may not rest
When envious Time has worn me to a thread,
Then let me go to Smithers in the West,
And on my gravestone let these words be read:
_Attracted by its name to this fair scene_,
_He died a Smitherene._
O. S.
* * * * *
THE COMMERCIAL SIDE.
Now that the Headmaster of Bradfield has decided to start a "Commercial
side," to enable boys to prepare at school for a business career, it may be
of interest to publish these fragments from the diary of another Headmaster
who has done pioneering work in a similar direction:--
_January 20._--First day of term. This morning, in Hall, I made the
momentous announcement that the School would shortly have a new
"side"--devoted to Business. School-boys are usually so conservative that I
had anticipated some signs of disapproval. Nothing of the sort. The speech
was received with loud cheers, renewed when I prophesied that the Waterloo
of the future would be won on the "Commercial side" of Fadfield. Truly a
hopeful outlook.
_January 21._--As I expected, the Commercial side has been the chief topic
of conversation among boys and masters. The latter are, I fear,
reactionary--realising, no doubt, their incompetence to deal with business
subjects. The boys are enthusiastic. I am constantly approached in the
corridors by lads who say it has always been their ambition to become a
Tipton or a Whiteridge, or a Gilling and Warow, as the case may be. One
little fellow quaintly confessed that he had always longed to be a "Mother
Spiegel." Great Britain's future in trade is assured if this spirit
continues.
_January 22._--Even the Classical VI. seems interested in my new project,
and questions proving a genuine keenness were asked me when I was taking
HOMER this morning. One boy propounded the doubtful but stimulating notion
that HOMER was really the name of some early Greek Co-operative Stores, and
that the _Iliad_ and _Odyssey_ were parts of a gigantic scheme of
advertisements. This is very illuminative and indicates that a real desire
for efficiency exists in the most unlikely quarters.
_January 23._--An example of the sort of prejudice one has to contend
against occurred to-day. Henderson, one of the House masters, sent across a
note asking what I should wish done in the following case. It appears that
a boy in his House named Montague has by some form of bargaining already
deprived three new boys of their pocket-money for the term. "Montague has
exhibited such an extraordinary commercial aptitude in this matter,"
Henderson wrote, "that I propose to flog him. Before doing so however I
thought I would ask for your assent, as you might prefer to make him a
prefect."
_January 24._--Brown Major, the Captain of Football, has been deputed to
ask me if I could arrange a Jumble Sale match against Giggleswick. Have had
to explain to a boy, Lipscombe, sent up for gambling, that the rule against
this is inviolable, and that I could not accept as an excuse for his
breaking it the fact that he intends, on leaving school, to adopt the
business of a bookmaker. Specialisation at school in all branches of
business is of course impossible.
_January 26._--M. Constantin, the French master, has come to me with a
complaint. Two days ago, for trying to dazzle him during lessons with a
sun-glass, he gave a boy named Dawkins 500 lines. To-day, instead of the
usual Racine, Dawkins handed him lines copied from an advertisement in the
daily press beginning:--"Perhaps you are suddenly becoming stout, or it may
be that you have been putting on weight for years...." As Constantin is
disposed to adiposity, he is convinced that Dawkins meant this for
impertinence. Dawkins, however, has explained to me that he is profoundly
interested in Patent Medicines, the sale of which he hopes to take up as
soon as he has qualified on the Commercial side. Pardoned Dawkins and
accepted M. Constantin's resignation.
_January 27._--I fear the school is taking the Commercial side too
literally--with unforeseen results. To-day there was a regrettable incident
in the tuck-shop, outside the door of which, unknown to Mrs. Harrison, a
placard was nailed up announcing "Harrison's Winter Sale. All goods at
sacrificial prices. Must be cleared. No offer refused." As a consequence
the boys burst into the place in a crowd, ate and drank everything they
could lay hands on, and paid for nothing. I have undertaken to rectify this
matter.
_January 28._--Mutiny is rampant. The boys, inflated by their success in
the tuck-shop, held "A Great White Sale" in most of the dormitories last
night. As a consequence, all towels, sheets, pillows, flannels, etc., are
inextricably mixed up, and a very large number can only be described as
"remnants." Seven masters have resigned, including Herr Wolff, who was
informed by a boy that he refused to handle the works of Schiller, because
they were "made in Germany." Personally flogged the boy.
_January 29._--Things are becoming intolerable. Three boys appeared in the
lower Modern class this morning in frock coats and false waxed moustaches
which they must have written to London for. They were sent up to me and had
the audacity to explain that they hoped to be shop-walkers some day and
wanted to practise. Another boy asked if a Hair Drill could be substituted
for the ordinary drill. Verily the reformer's task is a thankless one.
_January 30._--_Actum est_ ... This morning I announced to assembled boys
that I should not proceed with the Commercial side. The speech was received
in silence, except that one boy (whom, I regret to say, I was unable to
identify) called out, "And the next thing, Sir?" I fear there is no real
commercial zeal as yet among boys.
* * * * *
[Illustration: EXIT TANGO.
THE SPIRIT OF DANCING (_waking up_). "WELL, THANK HEAVEN THAT'S OVER; ONE
OF THE DULLEST NIGHTMARES I EVER MET."]
* * * * *
LIDBETTER.
The shopkeeper said he had not got it in stock, but he would get it for me.
"When?"
"By to-morrow morning."
"Before lunch?"
"Yes."
"For certain?"
"Yes."
Very well then, I would have it.
"Can I send it?" he asked.
"No, someone will call."
Very well. It should be ready for my man before lunch.
How did he know I had a man? I wondered. I had never been to the shop
before. Do I look like a man who has a man? I suppose I must. Yet I always
rather hoped that I didn't.
What had I said exactly? I had said, "someone will call."
Either, then, "someone" means, in such shops, a man-servant; or the fact
that I am a man-keeping animal is visible all over me.
I went on to wonder if, should he see Lidbetter, he would know that he
belonged to me. Did I not only betray the fact that I kept a man, but also
what kind of a man I kept?
Good old Lidbetter--what should I do without him? I wondered. How get
through the day at all? How, to begin with, get up?
The morning tea, the warmed copy of _The Times_ and _The Mail_ (only
Lidbetter would ever have thought of warming them), the intimation that the
bath (also of the right temperature) was ready--how should I be thus looked
after without Lidbetter?
And then the careful stropping of my razors. Without Lidbetter how could I
get that done for me?
Without him I am sure I should never change my neck-tie till it was worn
out, or get new shirts until mustard and cress had begun to sprout on the
cuffs of the old ones, or have a crease down my trousers like Mr. GERALD DU
MAURIER, or go out with anything but a dusty overcoat and dustier hat.
But with Lidbetter...!
How do people get on without Lidbetters? I wondered. I suppose there are
men who do not keep men and yet exist--men who can't say, "My man"? An odd
experience.
I wondered how old he was by now--Lidbetter. Difficult to tell the age of
that type, so discreet and equable. He might be anything from thirty to
fifty.
And what was his other name? Curious how I had never ascertained that. I
must ask him, or, better still, get him to witness something and sign his
full name. My will, say.
Talking of wills, perhaps I ought to leave Lidbetter something after such
faithful service.
Good old Lidbetter!
Thus musing I walked home.
The next morning I went to the shop and asked for the parcel.
"You surely won't carry it yourself?" the shopkeeper said. "I would have
sent it only I understood that your man would call."
"I haven't got a man," I said. "I've never had one."
"Pardon," he replied, and gave me the parcel.
* * * * *
[Illustration: COMMERCIAL CANDOUR AT THE SALES.
"I ASSURE YOU, MADAM, THESE KITCHEN KNIVES REPRESENT THE GREATEST VALUE
EVER OFFERED AT THE PRICE."
"THEY CERTAINLY LOOK NICE AND SEEM VERY CHEAP. THE ONLY QUESTION IS--WILL
THEY CUT?"
"AH, MADAM, IF YOU ASK ME THAT, I'M BOUND TO SAY THEY WILL NOT; BUT THAT IS
THEIR _ONE_ FAULT."]
* * * * *
"Two quite unique golf performances have been made on the Lutterworth
course. The Rev. W. C. Stocks and Mr. F. Marriott were playing a round
of eighteen holes last Friday, and at the third hole, which is an iron
shot (145 yards), Mr. Marriott surprised himself and amazed his
opponent by holing out with an iron. Then when they came to the eighth
hole, which is 188 yards distance, the rev. gentleman went one better.
Taking his brassey, he had the delightful experience of seeing his
ball roll into the hole. Both shots were magnificently directed."
_Market Harborough Advertiser._
We guessed at once that they must have been fairly straight.
* * * * *
THE YELLOW FURZE.
(_A Tragedy in One Act, which may be played by the Abbey Theatre players
without fee._)
SCENE I.
[_The kitchen in the_ M'Ganns' _house_. Mrs. M'Gann, Sheila M'Gann,
Molly M'Gann, Aloysius Murphy, _and_ Jeremiah Dunphy _sit round the
fire, top left centre. The door is top right centre. On the left side
is a window. Four large grandfather clocks are standing here and there
round the room. In front of the fire is seated a little wee bit of a
pigeen. The Stranger is seated by the window, apart from the rest. As
the curtain rises one of the clocks strikes two, another strikes
eleven, while the others remain silent. It is thus impossible to tell
what time it is. The Stranger gazes out of the window. No one speaks.
The curtain falls._