PASSING NOTES.

Otago Witness, Issue 3224, 29 December 1915, Page 5

PASSING NOTES.

(Prom Saturday’s' Daily Times.)

Milton’s Nativity Ode, which classic every countryman of Milton’s with a feeling for literature should seek out and read on Christmas morning, makes Christ to be born into a world of tranquil peace. “No war or battle’s sound was heard the world around. . . . And kings sate still with awful eye, as if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by.” Not only this, but “ peaceful was the night.”

The winds with wonder whist Smoothly the waters kist Whispering new joys to the mild Ocean, Who now hath quite forgot to rave, While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave.

“Halcyon days”—fabled days of calm while the halcyon, or kingfisher, is breeding—are seven days before and after the shortest day; hence include December 25. For some offence against the upper powers Halcyone and her husband were changed into kingfishers. Milton, never faithless to his mythologic lore (the better poet thereby, though mayhap the worse Puritan), has the courage to bring in this quaint conceit, and thus for the Great Advent gets ,the atmosphere he wants, — man is at peace, Nature is at peace. Yet the selfsame Advent brings in war. For from this happy day Th’ old Dragon under ground In straiter limits bound . . .

And wrath to see his kingdom fail, Swindges .the scaly horror of his folded tail.

The gods that were are put to panic rout —Peor and Baalim, Apollo from his shrine, Moloch, and mooned Ashtaroih; — nor all the gods beside longer dare abide. But their father the Devil abides, that “old Dragon under ground’’ —in the swindging of whose angry tail are vast possibilities. Wherefore —

All about the courtly stable Bright-harnost angels sit in order serviceable,

—ready, at the word, to be up and doing

Which things are an allegory. Poetry and history alike attest that the Prince of Peace has made good his own words: “ Think not that I am come to send peace on earth; I came not to send peace, but a sword.” When beasts of prey are abroad in. the land it is a man’s nart to look to his weapons. All the tigers of Asia turned loose upon Belgium would have been less hellish than the Germans. Is Christendom to look on and say nothing ? America, if President Wilson represents America, singles out the head German and wishes him many happy returns of his birthday. But, America does not represent Christendom, and it is doubtful whether President Wilson represents America. Anyhow it is an American editor who, in disavowing Ford and his Noah’s Ark of creatures clean and unclean, writes in this vein : Peace is not to be purchased by the propagandising donations of amiable antimilitarist millionaires. It is not to

be had for the asking. Not always is it to bo insured oven by pacifist treaties. Before the outbreak of the present war we had begun to hope, against our judgment, that there might, after all, be something in all the talk about disarriiament and permanent world peace. .But in the face of what is going on in

Europe, how can anyone believe that now? What could be more obvious than

that peace may be had only by those who arc willing and prepared to fight

for it? Moral—the New Testament moral for Christmas Day in this year of grace: “ He that hath no sword let him sell his garment and buy one.”

Of our Great Attempt at the Dardanelles the last thing to say, the falsest and the most foolish, some of the English papers are saying—that it has been labour in vain. If, as these same papers admit, the Dardanelles Expedition “immobilised” a quarter of a million of Turks, and kept them out of Egypt, the Dardanelles Expedition took Its fair share of the war. Our partial withdrawal looks a set-back. In the long struggle with Napoleon, of whom Kaiser Bill is a poor German parody, we had set-backs many and worse. Here are a few i

1806.—Expedition to Spanish South America Were within an ace of winning half a. continent —if wo had wanted it. Result, a tame withdrawal; General Whitelocko court-martiallcd and cashiered.

1807. —Admiral Duckworth with eight ships of the lino and three frigates ran the Dardanelles, and Constantinople under his guns, spent 10 days in useless palavering, fired never a shot, and withdrew. Result, some hundreds of men lost by gunfire in the Narrows.. Same Year.—Major-general Fraser with 5000 troops made an attempt upon Egypt. Result, a costly failure and withdrawal.

1808. —Slir Arthur Wellesley (Wellington that was to be) landed in the Peninsula. Successful fights at Rolica and Yimicro. Result, withdrawal, and three first-class court-martials. Same Year. —Retreat of Sir John Moore to Corunna. Withdrawal of the army. Commander dead on the field.

Same year—Wellington is not going again in the Peninsula. Amongst his set-backs wore —Retirement from Spain after Talavera; abandonment of half Portugal and refuging within the lines of Torres Yedras; failure before Burgos, and an almost ruinous retreat that followed.

1809.—Walchoren expedition—loo ships of war under Slir Richard Strachan. 40,000 troops under the Earl of Chatham —directed against the Scheldt, Flushing and Antwerp, within coooy, so to speak, of the British shores. Result, nil—except the loss of half the troops. The Earl of Chatham, with his sword drawn, Stood waiting for Sir R'chard Strachan; Sir Richard, longing to be at ’em. Stood waiting for the Earl of Chatham. This list might be extended. Yet Napoleon, died a prisoner at St. Helena after all.

For what is worst in our affairs at this dark time we may look neither to Gallipoli nor to Salonika, nor to any other place or person in all our far-flung line from Mesopotamia to the Flanders front. For what is worst we may look to the British Parliament and Press. Mr Asquith announces that “we have a million and a-quarter combatants in the various theatres, including our fellow subjects from overseas.” The total, we had been led to believe was bigger; but let that pass. The astounding thing is that Mr Asquith should communicate our muster roll to the enemy. Next, Mr Lloyd George, for whose existence and activities we may, on the whole, thank Heaven daily, describes our military experts as “reluctant converts” to belief in high explosives for trench warfare, and tells us that their reluctance lasted, long enough to occasion a shortage of shells. Also that until Mr Asquith, that military Solon, visited the trenches in June last, the experts aforesaid had not realised “the overwhelming importance of machine guns.” The facts are the facts, and digest them we must; but why, oh why, are such condemnable facts set free to be a comfort to all who hate us? Mr Lloyd George wound up with a dirge on the theme “ Too late” -—highly exhilarating to Berlin, but overdismal for repetition here. In all things everywhere and always we are “ just too late.” It is a rule with us, a principle; and that is why we shall not adopt national service till voluntaryism has failed. Make the failure first. Then, once again, “Too late!”

It is alleged against the German people that they have no sense of humour, which is another way of saying that they don’t know the absurd when they see it. I adopt with alacrity this doctrine, and am prepared to justify it by analysis of the two most typical Germans known to literature, Goethe and Wagner. Meanwhile note in illustration that the Hamburger Nachrichten, being troubled over the loss of a submarine, U 27, declares it to have been the victim of a British “crime.” “ Why is Great Britain silent regarding U 27”? it asks. “Where is U 27?” The writer is convinced that U 27, like U 29, perished by foul play. Big ships have been known to destroy submarines, and : t is always foul play when a big ship harms a little one. “British crime, not the British Fleet, rules the sea,” exclaims the Hamburger, and he suggests that U 27 may have been attacked and sunk by the Arabic. This is excellent fooling of the unconscious sort. So also concerning the British Fleet as invisible and undiscoverable. Here I borrow from the Spectator :

Herr von Wiegand has sent to the New York World an account of a visit to the German Fleet. Although Gormans arc notoriously not gift'.d with humour, we venture to suggest that

he docs the Gorman sailors less than justice in reproducing as characteristic sayings which show them to be more incredibly destitute of humour than any human beings that ever existed. Even a baby of a few weeks old smiles, and tlius differentiates the human from all the rest of the animal creation. If the German sailors can smile, as wo

• suppose they can, they will surely smile now. Herr von Wiegand writes; “‘Do you think that the English will ever come?’ is the question that has been fired at me from the stokers deep down in the bowels of the Moltko, and from men in destroyers and despatch boats to the highest officers.” Again, ho says that the table talk of German officers consists of invocations to the British Navy to come out of hiding and fight. These challenges from a fleet which has boon swept from the seas, has lost its colonies, and nearly oil its overseas commerce, and now shelters in circumscribed waters behind a serried minefield and under powerful land guns, are really delightful. This week the Germans have made perquisition for the British Fleet up and down the North Sea, and have not found it. Which recalls the apologue of the mouse that having got drunk on spilt whisky, swaggered out of its hole and flounced round for a moment demanding ; “Whore is that damned cat?” For the normal attitude of the German Fleet an American paper harks back to an old Punch cartoon :—Husband, under the bod.

to wife poking at him with a broomstick : “No, I won’t come out. You cannot break my manly spirit!’’

“Anti-Humbug,” otherwise Anti-na-tional-service Humbug, an oddity noticed in this column last week, writes to say that the doctrine on which chiefly he founds himself—“ Governments have no right to force men to fight—Governments do not own us —Every man owns himself - —-Every man therefore has the right to say whether he will fight or not” —was taken from a “ Churchmen’s Manifesto,” Christchurch, and gives an extract from the Maoriland Worker to prove it. We are in good company, it seems, —good hut mixed—Maoriland Worker, of Red Fed principles, and a Churchmen’s Manifesto, —from a church with a chimney in it, I should say, or the manifestors would have been aware that “No man liveth to himself/” with more of like tenor. However, dismissing trivialities, note that the “civil liberty” for which “Antis” of this kidney are concerned as “the corner stone of British life in all parts of the world” is liberty. NOT to fight for your country. It is liberty to look on while another does the fighting on your behalf. It is liberty to pass by on the other side and leave care of the man fallen among thieves to any chance Samaritan that may come along. It is liberty to play the slug and the slacker, to idle while others work, and while others meet the Hun in the gate to write letters to the newspaper extolling the privilege of “the free-born Briton” to hide under the bed. This is the liberty cherished of your Anti-national-service Humbug. 0, for the ministrations of the German drill sergeant! They would be a means of grace to him.

“The Book of the Thin Red Line,” by Sir Henry Newbolt, a collection of war stories, vivid and timely, has a paragraph which may interest the Early Settlers’ Association. It is from the autobiography of a soldier in the Peninsular War. By this time our men had got well out of the Pyrenees into the plain of .France below. . . . The prisoners wore sent to the rear under the charge of a Lieutenant Cargill of the 52nd Regiment, a manly, rough young subaltern, who on his march met the Duke, who says, “ Ilulloa, sir, where did you get those fellows?” “In France. Colonel Colborno’s Brigade took them.” “How the devil do you know it was Franco?” “ Because I saw a lot of our fellows coming into the column, just before I left, with pigs and poultry ; which we had not on the Spanish side.” The Duke turned hastily away without saying a word. (The Duke was death on pillaging.l Next morning Mr Cargill reported this to Colonel Colborno, who, hearing it, was desperately angry. “ Why Mr Cargill, you wore not such a blockhead as to toll the Duke that, were you?” In very broad Scotch, “What for no? It was fact as death!” The Duke did not forget to speak to Colborne: “ Though your brigade have even more than usually distinguished themselves, wo must respect the property of the country.” “ I am fully aware of it, my lord, and can rely upon the discipline of my soldiers, but your lordship well knows in the heat of action a little irregularity will occur.” “ Ah, ah 1” says my lord, “ stop it in future. Colborne.’’ Nor had his Grace cause to complain of us.

This would be in 1813. Captain Cargill, the Joshua of the Otago settlement, a figure now fallen dim and almost mythical, died an old man about 1860. hie had belonged to the 74th Highlanders. But was he ever in the 52nd, of Peninsular fame— Col borne’s regiment, that played a decisive part at Waterloo? It is possible; and “ Wnat for no?” The Earl}' Settlers should be able to say. Of course, there may have been more Cargills than one m the army.

Dear “ Civis,” —Coining words is all very well. I am not a bad hand at it myself. What do you think of “ embaggie,” for instance, to put into a bag? But don’t you think that “doputationize” (vide Otago Daily Times of recent date) is beyond the limit? “On his arrival the Hon. So-and-so was dcputationized ” —rather a painful business I should think, similar to being beheaded or excoriated. (Latin, “deputo,” “to cut off, prune.”). I think we had better stick to the old periphrasis, and say simply, “ Upon his arrival the bon. gentleman was met by a deputation.”

Or we might’ say that before being dcputationized at the station he had been conversationized in the train, and was subsequently hospitized by a friendly citizen. The verb to “ hospitize ” I myself have encountered in actual use. The war will bring us new words. “ Slim ” and “commandeer” we already owe to South Africa and the Boers. From Egypt and the Turks we may get “ mafeesh ” smashed, and “ imshi ” —getaway, begone. Also war names for babies are reported,— Ivy Dardanella, Lily Louvain, Lucy Tania, and Monsolen© (from Mons). Bad is the best of these; the worst is less hateful than “ deputatiouize.” Civis.