Great Public Meeting.
Mr Runciman, President of the Board of Trade, having stated that the
Government was following up its restrictions on the importation of paper
by drastic new rules concerning our supplies of ink, a public meeting of
protest was immediately called. Mr. T. P. O'Notor, M.P., took the chair,
and he was supported by many of the most illustrious ink-men of the day.
The Chairman, having first read a number of letters apologising for
absence, one of which was, of course, from Lord Southbluff, who
specialises in this epistolary form, proceeded to pour scorn on the
Board of Trade's decision. How can the Board of Trade, he asked
pointedly, know its business as well as we do? If it hopes, by
curtailing the supplies of ink that come to England, to make room for
the more important necessaries of life, it is mistaken. There is nothing
more important than ink. (Cheers.) Without ink what are we? (A voice:
"Not much.") Without ink, how can advertisements be written? (Cries of
"Shame!") Among all forms of human endeavour none was nobler than
putting one word after another. (Applause.) That is what SHAKSPEARE did.
(Hear, hear.) Always with the assistance of ink. (Cheers.) And what
would England be like without SHAKSPEARE? (Renewed cheers.) Had Mr.
RUNCIMAN thought of that? He (the speaker) would venture to say he had
not. In any case ink must be saved. (Loud applause.)
Mr. Harry Austinson, Editor of _The English Revue_, rose to protest
against the Board of Trade action. To put an embargo upon ink was, he
held, nothing less than an outrage. Ink was the life-blood of British
liberty, and he for one would never hesitate to spill the last drop,
either in his own select periodical or in a Sunday paper for the masses.
The mere fact that the feeling against ink was inaugurated by a Member
of the Government automatically proved it wrong. No good could come from
such a corrupt agglomeration of salary-seekers as the Coalition
Ministry. Speaking as one who knew Germany from within, he would say
that to put any obstacle in the way of the public expression of opinion
in England was to help the foe. (Hear, hear.)
Mr. Bernold Pennit said that the Government's action paralysed him. For
years he had been in the habit of writing his ten thousand words a day.
It did not much matter what they were about; the point was that they
were written. Otherwise he could not keep in good health. Where another
man might do Swedish exercises, ride, walk, eat or play golf, he, Mr.
Pennit, wrote. (Hear, hear.) It might be an attack on British stupidity;
it might be a eulogy of Mr. ASQUITH; it might be a description of the
arrival of a ton of coal at an auctioneer's private residence in Handley
and its transference to the cellar and the discovery that there was one
hundredweight one stone short. Whatever the theme, there were ten
thousand words in any case, and unless he could write them daily he was
lost. The tragic thing was that he could write only in ink and with his
own hand. (Sensation.) Before meddling with ink there were all sorts of
things for the Government to forbid. Golf balls, for one. He wished to
express his complete dissatisfaction with Mr. RUNCIMAN's insane
proposal. (Cheers.)
Mr. Bolaire Hillock thought that a great deal too much fuss was being
made about ink. The Board of Trade was, of course, an ass; that goes
without saying (_ça va sans dire_); but it is childish of literary men to
come there and pretend to be nonplussed. Let them rather show themselves
superior to such trumpery legislation. As an old campaigner he could
tell them what to do. When he was an artilleryman in France, and writing
a series of articles on the Reformation at the same time, he mixed an
excellent substitute for ink out of the ashes of his pipe and claret.
There were countless things that could be utilised, including blacking,
seethed mushrooms, boiled ash-buds, and the juice of the pickled walnut.
With such resources as these we intended to go on writing and drawing
diagrams long after Mr. RUNCIMAN was forgotten. (Loud cheers.)
Lord Penge said that one of the purest pleasures of life was writing to
_The Times_, and how could that be done if there was no ink? Some people
doubtless could use pencil; but he personally could not. Others had
typewriters or dictated to typists, but that was beyond him. To him
there were few delights more complete than to dip his pen in the
forbidden fluid and begin, "Sir." (Applause.)
The Rev. R. Trampbell said that not during his whole career as a
clergyman of the Church of England could he remember a more monstrous
proposal than this one to reduce the supply of ink. To him ink was more
precious than radium, for it enabled him to express his thoughts and
thus come into intimate relationship with his fellow-beings. It might be
within the knowledge of the meeting that he was in the habit of
contributing every week an article on the War to the Sunday papers. It
was not on tactics, but on some subject of spiritual interest connected
with the War, and he had reason to believe that thousands, he might say
millions, of his fellow-countrymen and fellow-countrywomen found it
helpful. Was that to cease? England had too few inspired teachers for
this article to be lightly disposed of. He felt sure that he had the
great weight of his beloved Church of England at the back of him when he
uttered this protest.
Mr. Chester Gilbertson said that neither the restriction on ink or paper
would worry him. There was nothing he couldn't write _with_, and nothing
he couldn't write _on_. He had written many of his best articles with a
piece of chalk on one of his black coats, and many of his worst on cab
and railway-carriage windows with a diamond ring which he had compelled
a commercial traveller to relinquish. (Cheers.) Rather than not express
an opinion on whatever was forward, he would carve his views on a rock
and himself carry the rock to the printing office. (Loud cheers.) The
Runcimen of this world were created purely in order to be defied.
Mr. Bernard Jaw said that of course for the Government to pretend that
the cargo space now occupied by ink was needed for something else was
rubbish. The Government's real reason was that they were terrified of
the critics and thought to muzzle them in this way. But he for one--and
he knew for a fact that the Government dreaded his genius acutely and
would give much if they could still the blistering accuracy of his
pen--he for one would not be daunted.
At this point a special messenger arrived bearing a letter for the
Chairman, who, after reading it, asked leave to put the meeting in
possession of its terms, as it somewhat altered the situation. It was,
in fact, from the Board of Trade, and stated that, owing to a misprint,
the recent decision concerning ink had been misunderstood. It was not
ink that was to be restricted, but zinc. (Cheers.) In the circumstances
perhaps they might adjourn.
The meeting then broke up peaceably, although Mr. Bernard Jaw did his
best to collect an audience for a new speech on the monstrosity of
interfering with zinc.
* * * * *
"Count Bernstorff finds that the Washington Government has left
him in the air. Seemingly he is at sea."--_Morning Post._
As was said of a nobler character, "the elements are so mixed up in
him."
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Jones (left at home to mind the children)._ "IF THE
PAPER'S ANYTHING TO GO BY, WE MARRIED MEN WILL ALL BE IN THE ARMY BY
JULY. IT SEEMS A LONG TIME TO WAIT."]
* * * * *