Page:Punch Vol 148.djvu/416
ROME'S DELAYS.
[To my host of a certain Italian restaurant in London, who ever since last August has assured his clientèle, on the strength of confidential information, that his country is on the very point of coming to the support of the Triple Entente.]
Ere yet the swallows southward drew,
When everybody stood at gaze
To see what Italy would do,
With fine assurance you would speak,
Saying that she would soon be in it—
To-morrow, or the ensuing week,
In fact at almost any minute.
From sources secret as the tomb,
You would impart the fateful word
That spelt the loathed Tedeschi's doom;
Spiced like the good Falernian brand
That marks you out among padroni,
It cheered my heart, it nerved my hand
To wrestle with your macaroni.
And, sitting where he'd always sat,
Emmanuel on the fence remained,
But you were not put off by that;
"'Italy Unredeemed,'" you 'd say,
"Enflames our bosoms like a foment;
Something will happen some fine day—
Indeed it might at any moment."
And Spring, that calls the swallows home,
Sees your desire still fixed on Trent
But nothing doing down in Rome;
And still you nurse your sanguine views
And with the old conviction state 'em:—
"On Monday next!—I have the news—
We mean to send our ultimatum."
And Italy postpones the start,
I would not chill your fiery soul
Nor dash your confidence of heart;
But if she can't make up her mind
To join and soon—the general outing,
She may arrive too late and find
The funeral over (bar the shouting).
O. S.
UNWRITTEN LETTERS TO THE KAISER.
No. XX.
(From the Crown Prince of Bavaria.)
All Highest War Lord,—I hasten to inform you that, in accordance with your most respected and ever to be promptly followed suggestion, I have to my brave Bavarian soldiers another proclamation issued, bidding them to deal roughly and swiftly with the by you despised British army to which they are opposed. For the writing of this proclamation I have used some all-glorious models which, lest I should forget the style of them, I always by me keep. I have assured my soldiers that they are fighting to defend their Fatherland against the since years plotted attacks of these prominently-toothed and long-legged mercenaries, who are driven to battle by mere fear of floggings to be inflicted on them by their splenetic officers, who themselves are afraid that if we Bavarians conquer them they will not be supplied with roast beef and plum pudding four times in every day, but will have to be satisfied with the true German calf's cutlet and black bread, of which, together with potatoes and liver sausage, they are brutally attempting to deprive us.
I have also put in what I hope will be considered a tactful allusion to God as the trusted ally of the Germans, and have asked my soldiers to remember that they are carrying on the War for freedom, so that, for instance, the poor Belgians may be able to understand that friendship with England means misery, while friendship with the civilised armies of the German Empire means perpetual happiness and much wealth. Finally, I have asked my soldiers to drive the accursed invaders—for it is their intention to invade us—into the sea, and to do it as roughly as possible in the old splendid Bavarian way—though, to be sure, we Bavarians, being an inland people, have but little acquaintance with the sea and do not desire to increase that acquaintance.
Be that as it may, I have done my best, and have had this fire-breathing proclamation read at the head of every Bavarian regiment in the fighting line. One cannot pause to be strictly truthful in a proclamation. Your Majesty knows this as well as anyone, you being yourself a master in that kind of romantic writing, and you will make allowances, I am sure. Some stimulus the soldiers require, for they know for certain that for months past they have stuck tight in the same place and have even from time to time been beaten back from their trenches in a highly unexpected and most inconsiderate manner. If this sort of thing is to continue, even my honest Bavarians may begin to murmur, for they will think with profound yearning of their village-homes and of the delicious beer they used to drink with so much happiness in the days which now seem to be a dream that cannot return.
When I myself think of Bavaria, with its many thousands of breweries, all made prosperous by the patriotic thirst of a cultured people, I confess that my heart grows heavy in my breast, and, in spite of all my proclamations, I find myself regretting the joys of peace and longing for the swift end of this infernal war in order that we Bavarians may get home to our beer and that the English may use their long legs, not for rushing at us on the battlefield, as they now do, with a most murderous result, but for striding back to their transports and so being comfortably conveyed to their own barbarous and foggy island. That ought to be a sufficient punishment for them. Let us, then, as quickly as possible make an end of this War before worse things happen to us. For glory we have assuredly done enough. Let us now take into consideration the safety of our Fatherland, whether it be Bavaria or Prussia. We cannot go on fighting for ever and never gaining any ground, and I am sure that it is better to drink Bavarian beer in peace than to live in trenches and be bombarded by the English, however bravely we endure it. I hope, therefore, that you will not ask me to write any more furious proclamations.
Your sincere Friend and Admirer, Rupprecht.
"Evensong was held at eight o'clock. Collections were made for the rich and poor."—West London Observer.
The collection for the rich was a particularly happy thought. There is probably no class that has been more severaly hit by the War.
"Ronnie, the captivating son of the Earl and the girl, and, incidentally, the 'days ex on achina' is quite admirably done."
Yorkshire Post.
On this occasion the god seems to have stepped out of the machine (linotype), and been replaced by the devil.