Mr. Punch's History of the Great War Part 14

COOK (who, after interview with prospective mistress, is going to think it over):

"'Ullo! Prambilator! If you'd told me you 'ad children I needn't have troubled meself to 'ave come."

THE PROSPECTIVE MISTRESS: "Oh! B-but if you think the place would otherwise suit you, I dare say we could board the children out."]

Maids are human, however, though their psychology is sometimes disconcerting. One who was told by her mistress not to worry because her young man had gone into the trenches responded cheerfully, "Oh, no, ma'am, I've left off worrying now. He can't walk out with anyone else while he's there."

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE RECRUIT WHO TOOK TO IT KINDLY]

_February_ 1917,

The rulers of Germany--the Kaiser and his War-lords--proclaimed themselves the enemies of the human race in the first weeks of the War. But it has taken two years and a half to break down the apparently inexhaustible patience of the greatest of the neutrals. A year and three-quarters has elapsed since the sinking of the _Lusitania_. The forbearance of President Wilson--in the face of acc.u.mulated insults, interference in the internal politics of the United States, the promotion of strikes and _sabotage_ by the agents of Count Bernstorff--has exposed him to hard and even bitter criticism from his countrymen. Perhaps he over-estimated the strength of the German-American and Pacificist elements. But his difficulties are great, and his long suffering diplomacy has at least this merit, that if America enters the War it will be as a united people.

Germany's decision to resort to unrestricted submarine warfare on February 1 is the last straw: now even Mr. Henry Ford has offered to place his works at the disposal of the American authorities.

Day by day we read long lists of merchant vessels sunk by U-boats, and while the Admiralty's reticence on the progress of the anti-submarine campaign is legitimate and necessary, the withholding of statistics of new construction does not make for optimism. Victory will be ours, but not without effort. The great crisis of the War is not pa.s.sed. That has been the burden of all the speeches at the opening of Parliament from the King's downward.

Lord Curzon, who declared that we were now approaching "the supreme and terrible climax of the War," has spoken of the late Duke of Norfolk as a man "diffident about powers which were in excess of the ordinary." Is not that true of the British race as a whole? Only now, under the stress of a long-drawn-out conflict, is it discovering the variety and strength of its latent forces. The tide is turning rapidly in Mesopotamia. General Maude, who never failed to inspire the men under his command on the Western front with a fine offensive spirit, has already justified his appointment by capturing Kut, and starting on a great drive towards Baghdad.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE LAST THROW]

On the Salonika front, to quote from one of Mr. Punch's ever-increasing staff of correspondents, "all our prospects are pleasing and only Bulgar vile." On the Western front the British have taken Grandcourt, and our "Mudlarks," encamped on an ocean of ooze, preserve a miraculous equanimity in spite of the attention of rats and c.o.c.kroaches and the vagaries of the transport mule.

[Ill.u.s.tration:

HEAD OF GOVERNMENT DEPARTMENT (in his private room in recently commandeered hotel): "Boy! Bring some more coal!"]

At home the commandeering of hotels to house the new Ministries proceeds apace, and a request from an inquiring peer for a comprehensive return of all the buildings requisitioned and the staffs employed has been declined on the ground that to provide it would put too great a strain on officials engaged on work essential to winning the War.

The criticisms on the late Cabinet for its bloated size have certainly not led to any improvement in this respect, and one of the late Ministers has complained that the Administration has been further magnified until, if all its members, including under-secretaries, were present, they would fill not one but three Treasury Benches. Already this is a much congested district at question-time and the daily scene of a great push. Up to the present there are, however, only thirty-three actual Ministers of the Crown, and their salaries only amount to the trifle of 133,000. The setting up of a War Cabinet, "a body utterly unknown to the law," has excited the resentment of Mr. Swift MacNeill, whose reverence for the Const.i.tution (save in so far as it applies to Ireland) knows no bounds; and Mr. Lynch has expressed the view that it would be a good idea if Ireland were specially represented at the Peace Conference, in order that her delegates might a.s.sert her right to self-government.

England, in February, 1917, seems to deserve the t.i.tle of "the great Loan Land." Amateurs of anagrams have found satisfaction in the ident.i.ty of "Bonar Law" with "War Loan B." As a cynic has remarked, "in the midst of life we are in debt." But the champions of national economy are not happy.

The staff of the new Pensions Minister, it is announced, will be over two thousand. It is still hoped, however, that there may be a small surplus which can be devoted to the needs of disabled soldiers. Our great warriors are in danger of being swamped by our small but innumerable officials.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A PLAIN DUTY

"Well, good-bye, old chap, and good luck! I'm going in here to do my bit, the best way I can. The more everybody sc.r.a.pes together for the War Loan, the sooner you'll be back from the trenches."]

The older Universities, given over for two years to wounded soldiers and a handful of physically unfit or coloured undergraduates, are regaining a semblance of life by the housing of cadet battalions in some colleges. The Rhodes scholars have all joined up, and normal academic life is still in abeyance:

In Tom his Quad the Bloods no longer flourish; Balliol is bare of all but mild Hindoos; The stalwart oars that Isis used to nourish Are in the trenches giving Fritz the Blues, And many a stout D.D.

Is digging trenches with the V.T.C.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Brothers Tingo, who are exempted from military service, do their bit by helping to train ladies who are going on the land.]

It is true that Mr. Bernard Shaw has visited the front. No reason is a.s.signed for this rash act, and too little has been made of the fact that he wore khaki just like an ordinary person. Amongst other signs of the times we note that women are to be licensed as taxi-drivers:

War has taught the truth that s.h.i.+nes Through the poet's n.o.ble lines: "Common are to either s.e.x _Artifex and opifex_."

A new danger is involved in the spread of the Army Signalling Alphabet. The names of Societies are threatened. The dignity of Degrees is menaced by a code which converts B.A. into Beer Ack. Initials are no longer sacred, and the great T.P. will become Toc Pip O'Connor, unless some Emma Pip introduces a Bill to prevent the sacrilege.

_March,_ 1917.

With the end of Tsardom in Russia, the fall of Baghdad, and the strategic retreat of Hindenburg on the Western front, all crowded into one month, March fully maintains its reputation for making history at the expense of Caesars and Kaisers. It seems only the other day when the Tsar's a.s.sumption of the t.i.tle of Generalissimo lent new strength to the legend of the "Little Father." But the forces of "unholy Russia"--Pro-German Ministers and the sinister figure of Rasputin--have combined to his undoing, and now none is so poor to do him reverence. In the House of Commons everybody seems pleased, including Mr. Devlin, who has been quite statesmanlike in his appreciation, and the Prime Minister, in one of his angelic visits to the House, evoked loud cheers by describing the Revolution as one of the landmarks in the history of the world. But no one noticed that Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman's outburst in 1906, just after the dissolution of Russia's first elected Parliament: "_La Duma est morte; vive la Duma_!

" has now been justified by the event--at any rate for the moment, for Revolutions are rich in surprises and reactions. The capture of Baghdad inspires no misgivings, except in the bosoms of Nationalist members, who detect in the manifesto issued by General Maude fresh evidences of British hypocrisy.

The fleet of Dutch merchantmen, which has been sunk by a waiting submarine, sailed under a German guarantee of "relative security." Germany is so often misunderstood. It should be obvious by this time that her att.i.tude to International Law has always been one of approximate reverence. The sh.e.l.ls with which she bombarded Rheims Cathedral were contingent sh.e.l.ls, and the _Lusitania_ was sunk by a relative torpedo. Neutrals all over the world, who are smarting just now under a fresh manifestation of Germany's respective goodwill, should try to realise before they take any action what is the precise situation of our chief enemy: He has (relatively) won the War; he has (virtually) broken the resistance of the Allies; he has (conditionally) ample supplies for his people; in particular he is (morally) rich in potatoes. His finances at first sight appear to be pretty heavily involved, but that soon will be adjusted by (hypothetical) indemnities; he has enormous (proportional) reserves of men; he has (theoretically) blockaded Great Britain, and his final victory is (controvertibly) at hand. But his most impressive argument, which cannot fail to come home to hesitating Neutrals, is to be found in his latest exhibition of offensive power, namely, in his (putative) advance--upon the Ancre.

A grave statement made by the Under-Secretary for War as to the recent losses of the Royal Flying Corps on the Western front and the increased activity of the German airmen has created some natural depression. The command of the air fluctuates, but the spirit of our airmen is a sure earnest that the balance will be redressed in our favour. Mr. Punch has already paid his tribute to the British infantryman. Let him now do his homage to the heroes whose end is so often disguised under the laconic announcement: "One of our machines did not return."

[Ill.u.s.tration: ALSO RAN

WILHELM: "Are you luring them on, like me?" MEHMED: "I'm afraid I am!"]

I like to think it did not fall to earth, A wounded bird that trails a broken wing, But to the heavenly blue that gave it birth, Faded in silence, a mysterious thing, Cleaving its radiant course where honour lies Like a winged victory mounting to the skies.

The clouds received it, and the pathless night; Swift as a flame, its eager force unspent, We saw no limit to its daring flight; Only its pilot knew the way it went, And how it pierced the maze of flickering stars Straight to its goal in the red planet Mars.

So to the entrance of that fiery gate, Borne by no current, driven by no breeze, Knowing no guide but some compelling fate, Bold navigators of uncharted seas, Courage and youth went proudly sweeping by, To win the unchallenged freedom of the sky.

Parliament has been occupied with many matters, from the Report of the Dardanelles Commission to the grievances of Scots bee-keepers. The woes of Ireland have not been forgotten, and the Nationalists have been busily engaged in getting Home Rule out of cold storage. Hitherto every attempt of the British Sisyphus to roll the Stone of Destiny up the Hill of Tara has found a couple of Irishmen at the top ready to roll it down again. Let us hope that this time they will co-operate to install it there as the throne of a loyal and united Ireland. Believers in the "Hidden Hand" have been on the war-path, and as a result of prolonged discussion as to the responsibility for the failure of the effort to force the Dardanelles, the House is evidently of opinion that Lord Fisher might now be let alone by foes and friends. The idea of blaming _Queen Elisabeth_ for the fiasco is so entirely satisfactory to all parties concerned that one wonders why the Commission couldn't have thought of that itself.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE INFECTIOUS HORNPIPE]

Mr. Bernard Shaw, returned from his "joy-ride" at the Front, has declared that "there is no monument more enduring than bra.s.s"; the general feeling, however, is that there is a kind of bra.s.s that is beyond enduring.

Armageddon is justified since it has given him a perfectly glorious time.

He is obliged, in honesty, to state that the style of some of the buildings wrecked by the Germans was quite second rate. He entered and emerged from the battle zone without any vulgar emotion; remaining immune from pity, sorrow, or tears. In short:

He went through the fiery furnace, but never a hair was missed From the heels of our most colossal Arch-Super-Egotist.

According to the latest news from Sofia, 35,000 Bulgarian geese are to be allowed to go to Germany. As in the case of the Bulgarian Fox who went to Vienna, there appears to be little likelihood that they will ever return.

[Ill.u.s.tration: FOOD RESTRICTION

SCENE: HOTEL.

LITTLE GIRL: "Oh, Mummy! They've given me a dirty plate."

MOTHER: "Hush, darling. That's the soup."]

Apropos of food supplies, Lord Devonport has developed a sense of judicial humour, having approved a new dietary for prisoners, under which the bread ration will be cut down to 63 ounces per week, or just one ounce less than the allowance of the free and independent Englishman. The latest morning greeting is now: "_Comment vous Devonportez-vous?_"