Chapter I: Front Matter

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI

VOL. 147

SEPTEMBER 30, 1914

CHARIVARIA.

The German troops which started out for a "pleasure trip" to Paris are now reported, owing, no doubt, to the influence of British environment, to be taking their pleasures sadly.

* * *

Several reasons have been given for the destruction of Rheims Cathedral. The real one is now said to be the following. Owing to the Red Cross Flag being flown from one of the towers the Germans thought the building was only a hospital.

* * *

A Scotsman gifted with much native humour wishes it to be known how glad he is to see that the Frenchmen have been getting their Aisne back.

* * *

It is reported that the KAISER is proceeding to East Prussia to assume the chief command there. In Petrograd the news is only credited by extreme optimists.

* * *

It does not say much for the enterprise of our English newspapers that we should have had to go all the way to India for a reference to what must have been an exceedingly clever capture of one of the enemy. "As the war progresses," says _The Times of India_ of the 20th ult., "the stories of German brutality become more and more frequent. One instance is shown in a letter from a German soldier captured in a mail-bag in Lorraine."

* * *

We have always held that the Turkish sense of humour has been underrated. A leading Ottoman statesman has told _Der Tag_ (the newspaper of that name: the real thing has not turned up yet): "We only fear for Germany one thing--her magnanimity towards the conquered, a quality which she shares with the great Turkish conquerors of the past."

* * *

There is reported to be an uneasy feeling among the poor in our big towns that, if hard times should come, an attempt will be made to foist on them many of the weirder garments which kind-hearted ladies have been making for the troops.

* * *

The attention of the public is being directed to the value of fish as a food, in contradistinction, we suppose, to its remarkable qualities as a perfume.

* * *

Mr. LLOYD GEORGE'S statement that "The Prussian Junker is the road-hog of modern Europe" has, we hear, had a curious and satisfactory sequel. Large numbers of adepts in the art of pig-sticking are joining the Sportsmans' Battalion which is now in process of formation.

* * *

Not the least encouraging result of the War would seem to be that it has put a stopper on decadent ideas as to dress. Mlle. GABY DESLYS, we read, found herself unable to begin her season at the Palace the week before last as her dresses were delayed in Paris.

* * *

A London-born Italian organ-grinder who was plying his trade in Wales has, _The Express_ tells us, enlisted in Lord KITCHENER'S Army for foreign service, and has left his organ in charge of the recruiting officer at Barmouth. A pity. It should have made a powerful weapon to use against the enemy.

* * *

So much has been written about the brutality of the Germans that it seems only fair to draw attention to an act of humanity on their part. Steps have been taken at Stuttgart, at any rate, to protect prisoners against annoyance. "It is," runs a proclamation, "rigorously forbidden for any woman to cast amorous glances at British and French prisoners."

* * * * *

Illustration: TAKING NO RISKS.

* * * * *

A HAUNT OF ANCIENT PEACE.

The young man who had come into this quiet room looked round him with a sigh of relief at finding it empty. It was a large room, and he knew it well. Usually a little sombre and even oppressive of aspect, to-day it seemed filled only with an atmosphere of kindly security and benevolence. He noticed (being sensitive to such impressions) that in some strange way this restful atmosphere seemed to emanate from the large table, covered with illustrated papers and magazines, that stood in the centre. He approached it and, drawing up a chair, began to take the papers one after another into his hands.

Then he understood. Gradually, as he read, the nightmare that life had lately become faded away from him, and he saw himself once more surrounded by the sane and gentle interests that had been familiar to him from childhood. In one paper he read how such and such Duchesses were preparing yacht-parties for Cowes, and of the thrilling triumphs of the Russian ballet. Another told him that the Government was a collection of craven imbeciles, and that the price of rubber continued disappointing. He saw photographs of golf-champions and ladies in the chorus of musical comedies. One paper had a picture representing the state entry into somewhere or other of a--a German Royalty. The uniforms in this caused him a momentary uneasiness, as of a light sleeper who stirs in his dream and seems about to wake. Then he turned the page, and the dream closed upon him again as he contemplated an illustrated solution of the problem "Where shall we spend our summer holidays?"

He sighed contentedly and went on turning the pages, here reading a paragraph, here merely glancing at pictures or headlines. Thus the hours passed. How peaceful it was in this quiet room! And this table of literature, strange that never before had he appreciated its subtle charm....

Long afterwards, when they came to seek him, he was found asleep, a happy smile upon his face, and his weary head fallen forward amid the two-months-old newspapers of the dentist's waiting-room.

* * * * *

AN IMPERIAL OVERTURE.

[_From notes taken by a British airman while engaged in hovering
over the KAISER'S headquarters at ----. The name of the place is
excised because the Press Bureau Authorities do not wish the KAISER
to be informed of his own whereabouts._]

Now let an awful silence hold the field,
And everybody else's mouth be sealed;
For lo! your KAISER (sound the warning gong!)
Prepares to loose his clarion lips in song.

In time of War the poet gets his chance,
When even wingless Pegasi will prance;
Yet We, whose pinions oft outsoared the crow's,
Have hitherto confined Ourself to prose.
But who shall doubt that We could sing as well as
That Warrior-bard TYRTAEUS, late of Hellas,
Who woke the Spartans up with words and chorus
Twenty-six centuries B.U. (Before Us)?
Also, since Truth is near allied to Beauty,
We are convinced that We shall prove more fluty
Than certain British scribes whom We have read
(Recently published by The Bodley Head).

Well, then, it is Our purpose to inflame
Our soldiers' arteries with lust of fame;
To give them something in the lyric line
That shall be tantamount to fumes of wine,
Yet not too heady, like the champagne (sweet)
That lately left them dormant in the street,
So that the British, coming up just then,
Took them for swine and not for gentlemen.

Rather we look to brace them, soul and limb,
With something in the nature of a hymn,
Which they may chant, assisted by the band,
While working backwards to the Fatherland.
Put to the air of _Deutschland ueber alles_
Or else to one of Our own sacred ballets,
The lilt of it should leave their hearts so fiery
That at the finish they would make enquiry--
"What would our ATTILA to-day have done?"
And, crying "Havoc!" go and play the Hun.
For there are some cathedrals standing yet,
And heavy is the task to Culture set,
Ere We may lay aside the holy rod
Made to chastise the foes of Us and God.

And now that We are fairly in the vein
Let Us proceed to build the lofty strain.
Ho! bid the Muse to enter and salute
The burnished toe of Our Imperial boot!
Hush! guns! and, ye howitzers, cease your fire!
We, WILLIAM, are about to sound the lyre!

O. S.

_Note._--Unfortunately the actual composition of which
this is the preface has been censored, as likely to have a
disintegrating effect upon the discipline of our forces at
the front.

* * * * *

THE TWO VOICES.

"It was Mr. Will Crooks, the well-known Labour member, who
asked the Chairman if the House might sing 'God Save the King,'
and when Mr. Crooks started it in his deep bass voice everyone stood
up and joined in the singing."--_Westminster Gazette._

"Moreover, Mr. Crooks had pitched the tune a little too high, and
it seemed for a moment that he with his rich high tenor voice would
have to sing the anthem as a solo."--_Daily Chronicle._

* * * * *

UNWRITTEN LETTERS TO THE KAISER.

No. II.

(_From the Rev. Dr. DRYANDER, Court Chaplain._)

MOST ALLGRACIOUS SIR,--Now that I have finished
writing my sermon for next Sunday I can find time for a
little quiet sound thinking by way of a change. I can say
quite seriously that I am tired to death of writing and
preaching sermons. It is not permitted, highly honoured
EMPEROR, that in my sermon I say anything displeasing to
your Imperial self. I must not remind you that you are a
man like other men, a man liable to weakness and error,
swayed by temper, capable, since your position gives you
power, of trampling on the rights of others in a moment of
passion, of confounding justice with your own desires and
of mistaking the promptings of ambition or malice or envy
for an inspiration from Heaven itself. No, I must not say
all this or any of it, but, on the contrary, I must describe
you to yourself and your family and the chosen intimates
who flatter you beyond even my power to flatter, I must
describe you, I say, as the Lord's, anointed, as the vice-gerent
of God on earth, as being raised by God's favour
above all human foibles, in short, as being supremely right
and just whenever your faults and your injustice cry aloud
for the divine punishment. Even if you were a thoroughly
good and sensible man, _totus teres atque rotundus_, instead
of being a bundle of caprice and prejudice, the task would
be difficult. As it is, it is unpleasant and ought to be impossible.
My sermons exist to prove that I have attempted
it with such courage as I could command, although in these
conditions courage is only another name for the cowardly
compliance that causes a man to detest himself and to take
a low view of human nature.

At any rate I have done my best for you. How many
times have I not bidden the faithful to fall down before you
and worship you? Have I not proved from Holy Scripture
that your lightest word is spoken, not by you, but by the
Almighty; that you, in fact, are something higher and
better in bones and flesh and blood and brains than anything
that mere ordinary mortals can pretend to be? I can
see you nodding your head in Imperial approval when such
phrases came from me, and all the time I knew in my
heart that the God of whom you were thinking, and to
whose intimacy you pretended, was not the God under
whom a Christian minister takes service, but a being
formed after the image of a Prussian drill-sergeant who
wears a pointed helmet and a turned-up moustache.

Sir, I have my doubts as to this fearful war in which we
are engaged. You entered upon it, you say, to carry out
your treaty obligations to Austria. Treaties, no doubt, are
sacred things. But why, then, was not the treaty obligation
to Belgium as sacred as that with Austria? Was it
because Belgium was weak and (as you thought) defenceless
that you invaded her country, slaughtered her people,
and sacked her towns? Was this the reason for the foul
treatment of Louvain? And is it agreeable, do you think,
to the Almighty that the glorious Cathedral of Rheims
should be bombarded and ruined even by German shells?

When the years have rolled on and you shall have been
called away to render an account of what you did on earth,
for what reasons will you be remembered amongst men?
Not because you established justice and did good deeds--or
even great ones--for your people, but because you
plunged the world in war in order to feed your vanity,
and laid waste Belgium and shattered the Cathedral of
Rheims. Truly a shining memory.

Yours, in all humility,
DRYANDER.

* * * * *

Illustration: BOER AND BRITON TOO.

GENERAL BOTHA (_composing telegram to the KAISER_). "JUST OFF TO REPEL ANOTHER RAID. YOUR CUSTOMARY WIRE OF CONGRATULATION SHOULD BE ADDRESSED: 'BRITISH HEADQUARTERS--GERMAN SOUTH-WEST AFRICA.'"

* * * * *

Illustration: _Incredulous friend_ (_to soldier invalided home_). "WHAT--YOU CAPTURED TEN GERMANS BY YOURSELF? GOOD GRACIOUS! HOW DID YOU DO IT?"

_Tommy._ "I JUST SHOUTED OUT 'WAITER!' AND THEY CAME ALONG."

* * * * *

THE LAST LINE.