قراءة كتاب Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 146, February 11, 1914
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 146, February 11, 1914
And not a staff of haggard men
Hustled by printer's devils.
Then came a shock eight years ago:
The Rads, he thought, were dished;
The Tory Press had just to show
The People what it wished;
And yet, for all its wealth and size,
For all its mammoth circulations,
The country saw the Liberals rise
And sweep the polling-stations.
And, when the same sad case occurred
Twice in a single year,
Gamaliel, moulting like a bird,
Mislaid his lightsome cheer;
Yet, even so, he would not let
His confidence in all that's best rust
Until The Pall Mall went and set
Its teeth against "The Press Trust."
The writer dropped some dreadful hints
Of One whose sole decree
Governed the views of various prints
Not to be named by me;
He disapproved of paper rings;
In language almost rudely blunt he
Dilated on the puppet-strings
Pulled by a monstrous Bunty.
Our hero's faith grew sick and pale,
Yet was not all forlorn,
Till Mr. Maxse charged The Mail
With blowing Winston's horn;
And drew his axe and dyed it pink
With blood of Tories, blade to handle—
Blood of a Press that chose to blink
The late Marconi scandal.
This finished off Gamaliel Nibbs.
Beside his morning mess
No journal lies to-day: he jibs
At all the Party Press;
He counts it stuff for common souls,
And means to get his mind expanded
By sampling truths that Mr. Bowles
Embodies in The Candid.
Browsing on Tommy's fearless Tracts,
A strong and generous food,
He'll take his fill of meaty facts
Not to be lightly chewed:—
Corruption in the highest seats;
Impotence in the Opposition;
The Ship of State, with flapping sheets,
Moving to mere perdition.
A sovereign (net) for entrance fee—
And Nibbs is on the list
Of patrons who support a free
Impartial pessimist;
Yet shall his faith not wholly burst;
He shares, in common with his "Cap'n,"
The view that, when we reach the worst,
Then nothing worse can happen.
O. S.
THE CABINET MEETS.
Mr. Asquith. Perhaps the most important point before us, now that the Naval Estimates are settled satisfactorily, is the question how we're to get through the Session. The Labour Party seems discontented.
Mr. Harcourt (airily). I like talking over their denunciations with them as they walk through the lobby with us afterwards.
Mr. Asquith. Yes, I agree that their altitude is not of overwhelming importance. Oh, by the way, I have had an interview with Mr. Redmond. He is pleased to say that at present he is favourably disposed to us.
All (except Lord Crewe). That's all right.
Lord Crewe. H'm.
Mr. John Burns. I——
Mr. Asquith. Pardon me if I interrupt, but there is a bad feeling in the country. A paper known as The Spectator even suggests the impeachment of the Government.
Mr. Lloyd George. I am not surprised. Unprincipled attacks are often made on me by political muckrakers. I sometimes think that I shall give up politics.
Lord Crewe. H'm.
Mr. Birrell. And suggestions are made that Ministers should be hanged in Downing Street. Now in Dublin one allows a certain latitude, but in Downing Street!
Mr. McKenna. I have consulted the police authorities on the point. They inform me that the lamp-posts would only bear an exceedingly light weight.
Lord Haldane. That is most reassuring.
Colonel Seeley. There's another threat. They talk of the Lords throwing out the Army Bill.
Mr. Lloyd George. Good—a saving of thirty (or is it fifty?) millions—a great democratic Budget—and an election-winning cry, "The Lords destroy the Army."
Lord Crewe. H'm.
Colonel Seeley. But we need the Army.
Mr. Lloyd George. What for? Its elimination would be a great moral example to Germany. Some nation must take the lead in the peace movement.
Mr. Churchill. The third great election-winner! I suppose National Insurance and Land go back to the stable.
Mr. Burns. I——
Mr. Birrell (hastily). But there's Ulster. What about Ulster?
Mr. Churchill. The solution is simple. We revive the Heptarchy.
Mr. Lloyd George. The Heptarchy was a Saxon institution. It makes no appeal to the ardent, fervid intensely religious Celt.
Lord Crewe. H'm.
Mr. Burns. I——
Mr. Harcourt (interrupting). But what are we to do about Ulster?
Mr. Asquith. We must await the reply to our offer.
Mr. Birrell. But have we made an offer? I said we had, but have we?
Mr. McKenna. (acutely). We might await a reply to our tentative offer of an offer.
Mr. Asquith. Good, McKenna, very good. I appreciate the delicate distinction.
Lord Haldane (aside to Lord Morley). Had McKenna been caught young and forcibly educated, he would have made a metaphysician.
Mr. Asquith. We have not yet considered whether anything can be done to remedy the temporary unpopularity of the Government.
Colonel Seeley. Suppose Hobhouse resigned. (A hum of approval.)
Mr. Asquith. Say, rather, accepted a lofty Imperial post.
Mr. Hobhouse. And made room for Lloyd George's Man Friday! It would mean a by-election in Bethnal Green, where he comes from. (Consternation.)
Mr. Burns. I——
Mr. Asquith (suddenly). I accept your resignation with great regret, Burns.
Mr. Burns (indignantly). I was about to say that under no circumstances would I resign.
Mr. Asquith (sadly). Pardon me. I thought you were anxious for leisure to complete your autobiography. Well, if there are no resignations, I think we have ended the business of the day.