UNRULY BRITANNIA.
Dear Mr. Punch,—I see that Canon Masterman, in his Presidential Address to the Members of the Teachers' Guild of Great Britain and Ireland, delivered yesterday week, observed that the German teacher had been the servant of the State; his function had been to foster love for the Fatherland. But, he continued, "that love was degraded by jealousy, distrust and arrogance. The spirit that breathed through our 'Rule, Britannia!' was corrected in our national life by our sense of humour and self-criticism." How true and how necessary! It is indeed surprising to me that no one has said it before. Why should we dwell on the greatness of our sea-power and proclaim our resolve not to be slaves? I have always understood, in spite of the view of Sir Henry Newbolt, that Drake was nothing more than a buccaneer. The public utterance of such sentiments is surely prejudicial to "moral uplift," and, in the memorable words of Mr. Pecksniff, is "Pagan, I regret to say."
It seems to me that the time has now come when, in the interests of reticence and humanity, a serious attempt should be made to revise our so-called patriotic songs, and, though fully conscious of my own literary shortcomings, I cannot refrain from suggesting, by the following examples, the lines on which such revision might be profitably carried out. For instance, the refrain of "Rule, Britannia!" would be shorn of its thrasonical quality and rendered suitable for use in elementary schools if it took the following form:—
"Curb, Britannia, Britannia curb thy pride;
True Britons never, never, never put on side."
Another song which clamours for drastic revision is "The British Grenadiers." I cannot help thinking that it would be greatly improved if it were remodelled thus:—
"Some talk of Alexander, and some of Hercules,
Of Hector and Lysander, and warriors such as these;
But infinitely greater than the stroke of any sword
Is the pow-wow-wow-wow-wow-wow-wow of Wilson and of Ford."
There are many other standard songs and poems which could be dealt with in similar salutary fashion, but I am content to leave the task to others, and will content myself with the following original lines, which, whatever may be said of their form, have, at any rate, the root of the matter in them:—
"The men who made our Empire great
Have long ago received their meed;
Then why the tale reiterate?
Self-criticism now we need.
Then, O my brethren, lest you stumble
Look carefully before you leap;
Be modest, moderate and 'umble—
Like the immortal Mr. Heep."
Once more and in conclusion:—
"Let us be humorous, but never swankful—
Swank mars the finer fibres of the soul—
For what we have achieved devoutly thankful,
But disinclined our prowess to extol;
And, when our foemen bang the drum and bump it,
In silence be our disapproval shown;
'Tis nobler far to blow another's trumpet
Than to perform fantasias on your own."
I am, dear Mr. Punch,
Yours earnestly,
Chadley Bandman.
Doctor (to would-be recruit, whipper-in to the Blankshires). "Sorry I can't pass you, my man. You've got an enlarged heart."
Recruit. "Squire always says as you couldn't have too big an 'eart to ride over a country on war-time 'osses."