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Malcolm Farmer and the Online Distributed Proofreading
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PUNCH,

OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

VOL. 147.

NOVEMBER 4, 1914.


CHARIVARIA.

The _Fremdenblatt_ of Hamburg congratulates itself that "the British
campaign of pin-pricks is fast coming to a miserable end." If the
reference is to bayonets, our contemporary is in error.

* * *

A Berlin news agency states that General LEMAN, of Liége, is actually a
German. It is characteristic of the Germans to bring an accusation like
that against a brave and innocent man in adversity.

* * *

The _Kölnische Volkszeitung_ records the foundation of a "German Truth
Society." We are glad that it is realised over there at last that there
is a difference between Truth and German Truth.

* * *

It is semi-officially announced that the KAISER'S headquarters are now
in France. His hindquarters were recently seen in Russia.

* * *

A detachment of British cavalry, while playing water polo in the Oise,
suddenly spotted a patrol of German Uhlans, jumped on their horses
naked, and in that state charged the enemy. We understand that a protest
has been lodged at the War Office by the British Propriety League.

* * *

A motor wireless section in Scotland is searching for a mascot and
regimental pet, and a Glasgow newspaper invites its readers to supply a
suitable animal. What would be wrong with a wireless terrier?

* * *

Shortly before the outbreak of the war, it is said, the KAISER ordered a
Gloucester spotted pig in this country. Later on the shipment of the pig
was countermanded. Presumably sufficient pigs had already been spotted
in the German army.

* * *

A pretty tribute to our ability to keep our hair on in a crisis was paid
last week at the Bow County Court by an itinerant vendor of a hair
restorer. He informed the Court that since the war there had been no
demand for his goods.

* * *

A correspondent writes to _The Times_ to object to the nickname
"Tommies" applied to our soldiers. "Thomases" would undoubtedly be more
respectful and dignified.

* * *

An original production of _Everyman_ is to be given at the Cathedral
Hall, Westminster, on the 12th, 13th and 14th instant, in aid of the
Actors' Benevolent Fund. We trust that Everyman will do his duty and
bring in a large sum for this admirable object.

* * *

The French authorities have seized ten race-horses stabled at St.
Symphorien, near Tours, which belonged to M. MUMM, of the famous
champagne firm, who is a German subject. Motto for those Germans who
were captured speechless in the neighbourhood of Rheims: - "Mumm's the
word!"

* * *

We note that there is a strong cast in _The Glad Eye_ which has made its
appearance again.

* * *

Which reminds us that they are calling a certain cheery correspondent on
our Generalissimo's Staff "The Glad Eye Witness."

* * *

The latest news from South Africa would seem to show that Beyers are
sometimes sold.

* * * * *

Illustration: "NOT BIG ENOUGH! D'YER KNOW 'OO I AM? D'YER KNOW FOIVE
YEAR AGO I WAS CHAMPION LIGHT-WEIGHT OF WAPPING?"

"I'VE NO DOUBT YOU'RE A GOOD MAN; BUT, YOU SEE, YOU DON'T COME UP TO THE
REQUIRED MEASUREMENTS, SO I'M AFRAID THAT'S THE END OF IT."

"OH, ALL RIGHT, THEN. ONLY, MIND YER, IF YER GO AN' LOSE THIS 'ERE
WAR - WELL, DON'T BLAME _ME_ - THAT'S ALL!"

* * * * *

THE FLASH-LIGHT THAT FAILED.

(_Lines suggested by a recent incident on the Firth of Forth._)

There was a young alien in Fife
Who on spying was keen as a knife,
Till a sentry - good egg! -
Plugged him bang through the leg
And ruined his prospects for life.

* * * * *

"Along the coast the French Fleet are now aiding the British
monitors, smashing the heavy buns rolled up to the coast by the
Germans."

In the heavy bun department we fear no rivals, and the Germans will soon
find that in more than one railway-station refreshment department they
will meet their Waterloo.

* * * * *

TO A FALSE PATRIOT.

He came obedient to the Call;
He might have shirked like half his mates
Who, while their comrades fight and fall,
Still go to swell the football gates.

And you, a patriot in your prime,
You waved a flag above his head,
And hoped he'd have a high old time,
And slapped him on the back and said:

"You'll show 'em what we British are!
Give us your hand, old pal, to shake;"
And took him round from bar to bar
And made him drunk - for England's sake.

That's how you helped him. Yesterday,
Clear-eyed and earnest, keen and hard,
He held himself the soldier's way -
And now they've got him under guard.

That doesn't hurt you; you're all right;
Your easy conscience takes no blame;
But he, poor boy, with morning's light,
He eats his heart out, sick with shame.

What's that to you? You understand
Nothing of all his bitter pain;
You have no regiment to brand;
You have no uniform to stain;

No vow of service to abuse,
No pledge to KING and country due;
But he had something dear to lose,
And he has lost it - thanks to you.

* * * * *

UNWRITTEN LETTERS TO THE KAISER.

No. VI.

(_From Professor HERMANN MÜLLER, Ph.D., Private in the - - th Regiment
of Prussian Infantry._)

_Belgium._

YOUR MAJESTY, - I am one of your Majesty's most loyal and most faithfully
devoted subjects, and, if I now write to you, it is not because I doubt
for one moment that you are inspired in all your actions by a clearer
wisdom and a firmer grasp of facts than any that I can pretend to, but
because there are certain questions which obstinately press upon me to
such an extent that I must relieve my mind of them.

At the beginning I was a firm believer in the necessity of this war, and
in the perfect and not-to-be-shattered justice of our cause. I had read
all that there was to read: TREITSCHKE, NIETZSCHE, BERNHARDI, FROBENIUS
and a hundred others, from whose writings it can be most easily shown
that Germany alone among nations has the power and the will to expand
and to rule; that expansion and rule must be accomplished by war, which,
far from being a misfortune, is a noble object to be aimed at and not
avoided by statesmen; that all other nations are degenerate and must for
their own good be crushed by Germany; and that any nation which resists
Germany is through that very act an enemy of the human race. I also
believed that German culture is something different from and superior to
such culture (if it be worthy of the name) as is possessed by other
countries. All these beliefs I set out in my booklet entitled, "Der
Lorbeerkranz," which I humbly and with the most profound heart's
devotion dedicated to your august and glorious Majesty. Did you, I
wonder, deign to cast your Imperial eyes on this effort of my pen? How
well I remember obtaining my first copy of the book on the happy day
that saw its publication. It seemed printed in letters of gold, and,
filled with high yearnings and expectations, I took it home to my
beloved Anna. We read it aloud together, turn and turn about, with
laughter and applause and tears, for we saw therein the foundation of
fame.

So, at the war's beginning, I shouted with the rest for my KAISER and my
country, knowing that the war was just and that we should end by
annexing England's colonies, after destroying her armies and her ships,
and those of France and Russia into the bargain.

Well, that is already, as it seems to me, a thousand years ago, and I
must admit that at that time I did not consider it possible that I
myself with all my weight of learning as well as my regulation knapsack
should be marching about, or lying in a trench on the plains of
Flanders, divided by a few hundred yards from English soldiers, who have
in their hands rifles and bayonets, and know how to use them. In the
intervals of firing, as we lie there, a man has time to think, and it is
wonderful how clear his ideas become in such conditions. Some of us do
not think or think only what they are told. Poor simple fellows, they
still believe they are even now at the gates of Paris, and that
to-morrow is the day appointed for the entrance; whereas I know that,
having been close to Paris in a mad rush, our armies have since
retreated day after day.

But all this happened before I myself had to join the fight with the
older men. Now I know that the English and the French have much to say
for themselves, and, in any case, that it is plain nonsense - I beg Your
Majesty's pardon for using this word, but it is there and I will not
strike it out - it is plain nonsense to believe that the good God who has
made us all has had any interest in making our Germans out of better
clay than that which He has used for other men. I cannot even make an
exception in the case of your Imperial Majesty's own self. Thus do my
thoughts run in the trenches during this dreadful battle. What things
have I heard, what awful sights have I seen since I received my marching
orders! I think of Anna and of little Karl, and hope only that some day
I shall be far away from these scenes in a place where peace shall reign
and I can see them both again. But when will this be?

With most humble respect,

HERMANN MÜLLER.

* * * * *

"THE GREATER GAME."

This Cartoon, which deals with professional football and the War, and
appeared in the issue of _Punch_ for October 21, has now been reprinted
in the form of Posters and Handbills. These will be gladly sent free of
charge, for the purpose of distribution or exhibition, to anyone
interested in recruiting among football players and the enormous crowds
that attend League Matches. Applications, stating the number required,
should be addressed to The Secretary, _Punch_ Offices, 10, Bouverie
Street, E.C., who will gratefully acknowledge any contributions towards
the expense involved.

"The Greater Game" is also being reproduced in the form of a Lantern
Slide for exhibition at Cinemas, etc.

* * * * *

"Plaintiff, Mr. W. E. Brown, trading as Bre-...oEwenforOD.tonthr.s)-
cflandshrdlucmfwyptherton and Watt, auctioneers, of Winton,
claimed a sum of £4 13s. 6d." - _Bournemouth Echo._

In our "List of firms which must have a telegraphic address" Mr. BROWN
takes a high place.

* * * * *

Illustration: FOREWARNED.

ZEPPELIN (_as "The Fat Boy"_). "'I WANTS TO MAKE YOUR FLESH CREEP.'"

JOHN BULL. "RIGHT-O!"

* * * * *

Illustration: _Jim_ (_just leaving for Egypt_). "WELL, GOOD-BYE,
MOTHER; TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF. I'LL BRING YOU A PYRAMID WHEN I COME BACK
HOME."

_Mother._ "THA MUN DO NOWT O' T' SOORT, LAD. THA MUNNA GET THYSEN I' ANY
TROUBLE FOR ME."

* * * * *

ANOTHER INNOCENT VICTIM OF THE WAR.

SIR, - Will you grant me the hospitality of your columns for the exposure
of a grievance? The rest of the Press, which until recent mouths have
welcomed my communications, seem to have become indifferent to matters
affecting the health and comfort of the intellectual classes.

I am a professional man. For the past five-and-twenty years, with only
one exception (the year following the Diamond Jubilee of the late QUEEN
VICTORIA), I have fallen a victim during the first days of November to
an attack of bronchial catarrh. In this distressing complaint, as you
may be aware, an early symptom is a fit of sneezing, with other manifest
discomfort which I need not here particularise.

For the past twenty-five years (with the one exception to which I have
alluded) my first sneeze has been the signal for alarm among the
women-folk of my household. My elder sister goes quietly upstairs for
the bottle of ammoniated quinine; my younger sister explores the
recesses of a cupboard for the piece of red flannel to which I have been
accustomed; and Emily, the maid, without being instructed, puts the
kettle on the gas-stove. Any lady visitor there may be in the house is
ready with suggestions of alternative remedies, recalling numerous
interesting and instructive examples. Light and nourishing dishes are
prepared for my dinner; a hot-water bottle is placed in my bed; and in
the bedroom a fire is lit. I retire to rest at 9.30, and, having
disrobed and covered myself with an augmented supply of blankets, I am
brought a glass of hot milk by one of my sisters, who gently places my
dressing-gown round my shoulders while I drink it. Afterwards I lie down
to sleep, with the bell-push within reach. A tap at the door wakes me
next morning. "May I bring in a cup of tea, dear Septimus?" asks my
other sister. I am implored to remain in bed for the day, and swift
arrangements are made with the butcher, when he calls, to telephone a
message to the office. Emily refrains from singing while washing up, and
wears felt slippers during her duties about the house.

Such, Sir, has been the routine attending this practically annual event
for the past five-and-twenty years. But I regret to inform you that a
secret and sinister change has been at work in our domestic relations.
The first sneeze of this year's attack took place last evening. My once
attentive sisters, immersed in wool and flannel of all shades, took no
notice; Miss Annistay, an old family friend, alone remarked upon my
condition, stating that colds were very prevalent, and adding somewhat
irrelevantly that it must be terrible in the trenches this weather. For
dinner I had nothing more sustaining than our customary fare, and when I
asked for hot milk at bedtime my sisters inquired, "Whatever for,
Septimus?" I sought my chamber, only to find, on enquiry, that my
dressing-gown, my extra blankets and my hot-water bottle had
disappeared - gone, I understand, to a local hospital. And, far from
remaining in bed to-day, I am writing this from my office, an
exceedingly draughty apartment.

Yours cordially,
SEPTIMUS CODDELL.

P.S. - Of course I thoroughly approve of the idea that we must all make
sacrifices in time of war; but, as I tell my household, these sacrifices
should be personal and not vicarious.

* * * * *

OUR GUY.

We feel just a little hurt that the police have not prohibited our
village bonfire. Why shouldn't Zeppelins come to Little Pilswick? Why
should an arrogant metropolis monopolise everything? Still we hid our
mortification and the Guy Committee met as usual in the saloon bar of
the "Bull".

In the first instance Prodgers moved that the celebration be dropped,
and that all material already collected be given to the Belgian
refugees. It was pointed out to him that a gift of two empty tar-barrels
and half-a-dozen furze bushes, though meant in all kindness, might prove
embarrassing to any relief committee. Besides, we are happy in the
entertainment of two Belgian families, and the feeling was that the
sight of an uncultured fire would cheer them. So Prodgers was
temporarily crushed. Then came the all-important question of the guy.

Mr. Flodden, the landlord, began the discussion. "Last year we'd LLOYD
GEORGE, but we can't have no politics now, though he's - well, I wish I
could tell him what he is. Year before we'd the Squire for stopping up
that footpath, but he's in the Yeomanry now, so he's barred."

"The KAISER!" cried Jenkins. "Have him with mailed fists holding up a
torn scrap of paper."

"No, the CROWN PRINCE," suggested Webb. "Everyone would know him if we
put a silver spoon in each hand and hung a silver coffee-pot round his
neck."

"DE WET," proposed Cobb.

"Had him twelve year or more ago," said the landlord. "DE WET'S off."

A fierce controversy now ensued between partisans of the KAISER and the
CROWN PRINCE. Prodgers argued ably that it was much worse to destroy a
cathedral than to steal plate; whilst Unwin, the jobbing builder,
declared that the damaging of a cathedral gave work to a very deserving
class of men, and said he would very much rather see the parish
church-tower knocked down than the Vicar's spoons stolen. At last
feeling ran so high it was decided to put the matter to the vote. Five
voted for the light-headed KAISER, five for his light-fingered heir. All
eyes turned on the landlord to see which way his casting vote would go.

"Friends all," said. Mr. Flodden, "we've kep' ourselves respectable in
this village. Even our guys have been respectable, though, mind you,
that LLOYD GEORGE - well, if it wasn't wartime, I'd say he come precious
near the line. Now what's the good of us letting ourselves down to burn
these 'Uns? What about old GUY FAWKES? I grant you he wanted to blow up
the 'Ouses of Parliament; but, if there was licensing bills in those
days, I don't blame him. I say stick to old GUY and be respectable."

It was carried unanimously.

Somewhere in his rush from theatre to theatre of the war a message will
reach the KAISER. The hatred of a world may flatter him, but the cold,
chilling contempt of Little Pilswick will pierce to his very heart.

* * * * *

Illustration: OBVIOUS EMBARRASSMENT OF LITTLE BINKS, WHO HAS INJURED
HIS HAND IN THE PEACEFUL OCCUPATION OF PICTURE-HANGING, AT BEING
MISTAKEN FOR A WOUNDED HERO.

* * * * *

THE REPORT FALLACIOUS.

I have a son, William. But there are compensations; he is at school.

It was at the crisis of parting at the station that it seemed to me
necessary to give William a word of parental advice. I hate seeing small
boys at such moments stuffing themselves in refreshment-rooms.

"William," I said, "life is not all cricket and football."

"No, father" replied William, looking hard at the refreshment-room,
"there's golf."

"That, William, is scarcely a game. I should describe it in my own case
as an exercise taken under medical advice, to obtain relief from
business strain."

"Father," burst out William, "there's Cheffins minor in the
refreshment-room."

"William," I proceeded, "at the end of each term I receive an
unsatisfactory report about you from your house-master. It is only then
that I know you have wasted three months of golden time." ("Golden time"
was a happy inspiration.)

"Old Starks is a rotter," said William briefly.

"Now I put you on your honour, William, to send me a truthful report of
your progress at the half-term. Then if you are not doing well I can
write and ask that you should have special attention. On your honour,
mind."

"Yes, father. Shall we go across to the refreshment-room now?"

"Ah, yes, certainly," I said, noticing a signal drop. "Oh, no; here's
your train coming in."

Then having done my duty I forgot all about the promised report. It
arrived unexpectedly this morning. He had framed it precisely on the
model of his house-master's reports: -

_Position in Form._ First.

_Progress._ Very marked; decidedly more attentive and industrious.

_Latin._ A distinct improvement in versification. Translates easily and
intelligently.

_Greek._ Displays remarkable promise.

("Of course it won't be much use to him in my leather business," I said
to my wife; "still it shows grit.")

_Mathematics._ Again marked progress is to be recorded.

_Conduct._ Courteous, orderly, obedient. A good influence in the house.

_General Remarks._ Will achieve a high position in the school, but must
take care that too close absorption in study does not interfere with his
athletic development.

"Most gratifying," I said to my wife. "I just put the boy on his honour.
I don't believe in lecturing boys. Ah, what's this at the bottom?"

I read with horror the foot-note, "_Per_ Wireless from Berlin."

I am a parent, so I instructed my wife to write a letter saying how much
I was pained by William's frivolity. I am a patriot, so, without her
knowledge, I slipped a postal order for ten shillings into the envelope.

* * * * *

We hear there is no truth in the report that Mr. JAMES WELCH intends
renaming his successful farce (now moved to the New Theatre) "When
Nights Were Dark."

* * * * *

Illustration:

_Visitor_ (_leaving inn after sleepless night_). "I SUPPOSE YOU DON'T
HAPPEN TO BE A GERMAN?"

_Landlord._ "DO I LOOK LIKE IT?"

_Visitor._ "NO; BUT I THOUGHT I'D JUST ASK BECAUSE MY ROOM LAST NIGHT
HAD A CONCRETE BED IN IT."

* * * * *

THE GREAT PETARD.

(_Being some further reliable information about the enormous siege gun
which is to shell us from Calais._)


This is the tale of the Master Hun
And how, on thinking it over,
He bade his henchmen build him a gun
With a belly as huge as the Heidelberg Tun
To batter the cliffs of Dover.

See how the Uhlans' lances toss!
As a mother her child they love it;
Guarding it well from scathe and loss
They have stamped its side with a big Red Cross,
And the white flag waves above it.

First it was cast in Essen town;
Junkers in gay apparel
Flocked to sample its high renown,
And a dozen or more, they say, sat down
To dinner inside its barrel.

Fair and free did the Rhine wine flow
Till the face of every glutton
Shone with a patriot's after-glow,
And then they retired a mile or so
And the WAR LORD pressed the button.

_Hoch!_ The howitzer stood the test,
Belching like fifty craters,
And (this is perhaps the cream of the jest)
There was more than metal inside its chest,
For they hadn't removed the waiters.

Now it has come on armoured trains
To the further side of the Channel;
Prayers are said in a hundred fanes
For its godlike soul, and whenever it rains
They muffle its throat with flannel.

Strange indeed is the cry of its shells,
Like a pack of hounds in full wail,
Like the roar of a mountain stream that swells
Or like anything else from a peal of bells
To the bark of a wounded bull-whale.

But the worst of it is that when - and if -
It begins its work of slaughter
It will possibly harm the Kentish cliff,
But it's perfectly certain to go and biff
The French one into the water.

So when you shall hear a noise on high
Like the medium brush of a barber,
And a monstrous bullet falls from the sky
And blows off the head of a Prussian spy
As he dallies in Dover Harbour,

You shall know that at last the WAR LORD'S host,
By dint of a stout endeavour,
Have chipped off a bit of the Calais coast
And caused the isle that they pant for most
To be further away than ever.

EVOE.

* * * * *

THE PEACE CIGAR.

"By the way, Lorna was there this morning," said Celia. "Her brother's
in the War Office."

"And what did KITCHENER tell him when they last had lunch together?" I
asked.

"Well," smiled Celia, "he does say that - - "

I get all my best news from Celia nowadays. When I meet you in the City
and mention that I know for a fact that the KAISER is in hiding at
Liverpool, you may be sure that Celia saw Vera yesterday morning, and
that Vera's uncle is somebody important on the Liverpool Defence
Committee.

Twice a week Celia ties up parcels for the Fleet. Ordinary people
provide the blankets, sea-boots, chocolate, periscopes and so forth;
Celia looks after the brown paper and string, which always seems to me
the most tricky part. There are a dozen of them, all working together;
and you can imagine (or, anyhow, _I_ can) Vera or Kitty or Isobel, her
mouth full of knot, gossiping away about her highly-placed relations,
while Beryl or Evelyn or Lorna looks up from the parcel she is kneeling
on and interrupts, "Well, my _brother_ heard - - I say, where did you
put my scissors?"

"Well," smiled Celia, "Lorna's brother in the War Office says the war
will be over by Christmas."

"Hooray," I said; and I went out and looked at my cigar.

This cigar arrived at my house in a case of samples last July. The
samples went up from right to left in order of importance, each in his
own little bed - until you got to Torpedo Jimmy at the end, who had a
double bed to himself. Starting with _Cabajo fino_ in the right-hand
corner, the prices ranged from about nine a penny to five pounds apiece,
the latter being the approximate charge for T. James or any of his


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Online LibraryVariousPunch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 147, November 4, 1914 → online text (page 1 of 4)