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# Romance of the Rose (Ellis)/Chapter 39

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XXXIX
How Emperor Nero, in his mad And cruel unchecked fury, bade In daylight clear, before his eyes, His minions to anatomise His mother living, and the spot Disclose where he was erst begot.
Nero and Seneca “Alas! that thus should Fortune play Her pranks, and worthy men betray To misery, while the better part She deals to miscreants. In thine heart Bethink thou well of Socrates (Too wise a foolish world to please);6530 My love I gave him, and to me He gave his love all utterly.
Full many examples have there been Of this in old-time records seen, In proof whereof will I relate Great Seneca’s and Nero’s fate. But here I purpose not to tell The grievous crimes and actions fell Of Nero; such a tale of wrong Were wearisome and over long To cite once more; how he with dire Intention set great Rome a-fire, And many a senator that time Met death by his atrocious crime. Or how with heart more obdurate Than stone, he sealed his brother’s fate; ​The crimes of Nero Or how the monster ruthlessly His mother slew, that he might see The sanctuary where conceived He’d been, then watched her body reived6550 Of every limb, and, standing there, Adjudged her members passing fair. Ah God! what vile and felon judge Who could to that dread sight begrudge One single tear, for so ’tis writ, He calm looked on, nor wept at it, But gave command to thither bring Fair cups of wine, and roystering Therewith, beheld, with fiend’s delight, Unmoved, the matricidal rite.6560 Moreover did he lay a-waste The body of his sister chaste, And gave himself to work all crime That man hath stained since birth of time.
He martyred Seneca, his guide And mentor, bidding him decide, With impious oath, the manner he Would choose to face his agony, E’en as a devil brimmed with wrath. Quoth Seneca: ‘Make warm a bath,6570 Since I must bow me to the pains Of death, then forthwith ope my veins, That through the wave my blood may flow Forth freely, till my spirit go To that great God from whence it sped: May he sweet mercy on it shed.’”
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# Punch/Volume 147/Issue 3821/Mr. Punch's War Correspondence

MR. PUNCH'S WAR CORRESPONDENCE.
New Style.
Hearing that the German troops were advancing from the North-East along the line Malines—Mons—Mezières—Soissons—Verdun—Belfort, I immediately made off due South-West for a reason I may not give. I managed with the utmost difficulty to find someone to carry my kit, but at length persuaded an old peasant whom I found weeding (probably the last weeds he would ever dig) to act as my courier, and even then I had to resort to the vulgar strategy of pretending to be a Uhlan.
We joined the throng boarding an old motor-bus (6½ h.p.). There was nothing to show to outward appearance that the dreaded Germans were within 250 miles of the little townlet where I found myself (name suppressed). After booking my room at the only decent hotel in the place, I cast about for something to eat. Alas, the only eatables were roast duck and apple tart (the last probably we should ever see). I then unpacked my kit, and after folding my riding breeches I placed them under the mattress, wondering when I should take them out out again. It is curious how even the simplest necessities of life mechanically assert themselves in the midst of the most strenuous and adventurous circumstances.
Troops, troops, troops, and yet again troops. And people still go on living their daily lives. I saw two men seated in a café playing draughts, and they quarrelled over a move as though they had never heard tell of the Kaiser. Such is la guerre. I am rapidly polishing up my French which I learnt at ———, how many years ago I may not say.
We know little of the German plans, and that much it is useless for me to communicate as the Censor is stopping all news of any interest. But this we do know here in our little town of ——— that the Kaiser will undoubtedly defeat the English armies if he can. To-day I saw an officer who had been sent back to count the milk-cans on a larger dairy-farm (probably the last cans he would ever count); as he clattered down the road, mounted on his charger, I stepped in front of him and held up my hand, in which was a recent copy of The Daily Cry and Echo. The officer with difficulty stopped, as his horse reared on seeing the paper in my hand. I then asked him where he advise me to go, as I wanted to be where the fire was hottest. He at once told me to go to (name withheld). I often think of that gay young officer and wonder what he is doing.
To-night I sat up late (how late we used to sit up in London!) sewing a button on my (word excised) and darning one of the legs. I am now dashing this off to catch the morning post (probably the last post that will ever leave for England). I could not sleep for thinking that in a few days' time I may hear the boom-boom-boom of the German 17.44 guns, the sound of which has been likened to a puppy yelping. Such is war.
I hope later on to send an important document dealing with the dispositions of the various armies engaged. I have been fortunate enough to get a glimpse of plans not more than a month old which a Colonel of Howitzers carelessly left in the pocket of his bathing-suit.
# Punch/Volume 147/Issue 3821/One of the Secrets of Russian Success

ONE OF THE SECRETS OF RUSSIAN SUCCESS.
(By our Military Expert.)
The brief statement from Headquarters at Petrograd that on the South-West front Wszlmysl has fallen and that the pursuit of the Austrians has reached Mlprknik has a significance that may easily be overlooked by those who are unfamiliar with the topography of the district and its pronunciation. Wszlmysl (pronounce Wozzle-mizzle) is a large fortified town in the district of Mprzt (pronounce Ha-djisha) at the junction of the rivers Ug (pronounce Oogh) and Odzwl (pronounce Odol), about ten miles to the N.E. of Plosehkin (pronounce as written), with which it is connected by an electric tramway. The information available shows that the garrison of Wszlmysl (pronounce Woolloomoolloo) deserved their guns and retreated in haste with the Russians in hot pursuit. Now, inasmuch as this fortress has been pronounced by the Russian expert, Colonel Shemsky (pronounce Sch-tchoomsky), to be stronger than either Namur or Liege, the precipitate retirement of the Austrians can only be accounted for by a complete breakdown of morale.
The cause of this breakdown may escape most observers, but it is in reality simple enough. It has long been known that the Austrians have found themselves terribly handicapped by their inability to deal faithfully with the consonantal difficulties presented by the names of towns and districts in which the ethnic basis is Slav and not Teutonic. Quite recently, on the capture of the town Prtnkevichsvtntehiskow (unpronounceable, and only to approximately rendered with the assistance of a powerful Claxon horn), the garrison were found to be in a deplorable condition of aphasia and suffering from chronic laryngitis. We have therefore the best grounds for the believing that a similar cause operated in the case of the Austrian defenders of Wszlmysl. They fled because they were unable to cope with the vocal exigencies of the situation.
To sum up, we have in our Eastern ally a nation not only great in numbers, in warlike prowess, and in enthusiasm for their cause, but also fortified by the possession of a language so ruch in phonetic variety and so formidable in consonantal concentration as to strike terror into opponents of lesser linguistic capacity.
# Punch/Volume 147/Issue 3821/Business as Usual

"BUSINESS AS USUAL."
Corkey is the School Attendance Officer and a terror to every boy in the neighbourhood. He looks at the truant and says fiercely, "Where was you?" Then he wags a savage finger at him. "Yes, you was," he says, "you was, you know you was. I caught you in the hact." No boy has ever been known to withstand him.
Yet Corkey has a heart.
William Frederick Wright is our chief boy scout. In the first great days of the war, William was on duty at a railway bridge up the line. Local fame placed him somewhere between French and Kitchener. Sent to round up the truant, Corkey reported in glowing words, "Guarding his country."
A second week's absence produced the same report. Then business instinct began to war with patriotism in the breast of Corkey. During the third week he once more looked the culprit up.
His report was grim and terse. "Warned him," he wrote.
On the following Monday William sadly returned.
# Punch/Volume 147/Issue 3821/Boer and Briton Too

BOER AND BRITON TOO.
General Botha (composing telegram to the Kaiser). "JUST OFF TO REPEL ANOTHER RAID. YOUR CUSTOMARY WIRE OF CONGRATULATION SHOULD BE ADDRESSED: BRITISH HEADQUARTERS—GERMAN SOUTH-WEST AFRICA.""
# Punch/Volume 147/Issue 3821/In Memory

IN MEMORY.
To those who Died in the Early Days of the War.
Nor theirs to triumph yet; but, where they stood, Falling, to dye the earth with brave men's blood For England's sake and duty. Be their name Sacred among us. Wouldst thou seek to frame Their fitting epitaph? Then let it be Simple, as that which marked Thermopylæ:— "Tell it in England, thou that passest by, Here faithful to their charge her soldiers lie."
# Punch/Volume 147/Issue 3821/An Imperial Overture

AN IMPERIAL OVERTURE.
[From notes taken by a Brilish airman while engaged in hovering over the Kaiser's headquarters at ———. The name of the place is excised because the Press Bureau Authorities do not wish the Kaiser to be informed of his own whereabouts.]
Now let an awful silence hold the field, And everybody else's mouth be sealed; For lo! your Kaiser (sound the warning gong!) Prepares to loose his clarion lips in song.
In time of War the poet gets his chance, When even wingless Pegasi will prance; Yet We, whose pinions oft outsoared the crow's, Have hitherto confined Ourself to prose. But who shall doubt that We could sing as well as That warrior-bard Tyrtaeus, late of Hellas, Who woke the Spartans up with words and chorus Twenty-six centuries B.U. (Before Us)? Also, since Truth is near allied to Beauty, We are convinced that We shall prove more fluty Than certain British scribes whom We have read (Recently published by The Bodley Head).
Well, then, it is Our purpose to inflame Our soldiers' arteries with lust of fame; To give them something in the lyric line That shall be tantamount to fumes of wine, Yet not too heady, like the champagne (sweet) That lately left them dormant in the street, So that the British, coming up just then, Took them for swine and not for gentlemen.
Rather we look to brace them, soul and limb, With something in the nature of a hymn, Which they may chant, assisted by the band, While working backwards to the Fatherland. Put to the air of Deutschland über alles Or else to one of Our own sacred ballets, The lilt of it should leave their hearts so fiery That at at the finish they would make enquiry— "What would our Attila to-day have done?" And, crying "Havoc!" go and play the Hun. For there are some cathedrals standing yet, And heavy is the task to Culture set, Ere We may lay aside the holy rod Made to chastise the foes of Us and God.
And now that We are fairly in the vein Let Us proceed to build the lofty strain. Ho! bid the Muse to enter and salute. The burnished toe of Our Imperial boot! Hush! guns! and, ye howitzers, cease your fire! We, William, are about to sound the lyre!
O. S.
Note.—Unfortunately the actual composition of which this is the preface has been censored, as likely to have a disintegrating effect upon the discipline of our forces at the front.
# Punch/Volume 147/Issue 3821/Meditations on Mushrooms

MEDIATIONS ON MUSHROOMS.
We were playing the ancient and honourable game of acrostics and we had to think of and describe a word bounded on the West by the initial E, and on the East by the final H.
"That which you can never have of mushrooms," was one of the descriptions. It was, of course, guessed at once—"Enough;" and could there be a trued compliment to this strange exotic delicacy, which costs nothing but a walk in an early autumnal morning and is more choice than the rarest flavours ever designed by the most inspired of chefs? For certainly there has never been enough of them. I, at any rate, have never had enough. The thought of mushrooms missed must add pathos to many a death-bed.
It is a terrible moment when the dish comes in and one rapidly notes the disparity between the paucity of its contents and the vast and eager anticipation of the company. For it is useless to attempt to conceal greed when mushrooms arrive. A certain amount of dissimulation has mercifully been given by a wise Providence to all of us for the lubrication of the cogs of daily life; but it does not extend so far as this. And particularly so if the mushrooms have been fried in butter. Stewed they are not of course to be undervalued, especially if one dares to soak one's bread in the juice; nor even reposing in tragic isolation on Jual Fernandezes of toast; but the real way is to fry them in butter. As I say, it is a terrible oment when the dish arrives and the faces of the guests are studies; but should there be one present, or—more ecstatic moment still—two, who confess to a dislike of this perilous fungus, then what an access of rapture by way of compensation! Truly wise hostesses have been known to murmur something about toadstools and risk, as an encouragement to the doubters; or if they don't their husbands do. It is however no real good! Even with two defaulters the dish does no more than stimulate desire; whilst such is its power of fascination that consummate gourmets have been known to express no dismay at the possibility of poison being there, a death so won being worth dying.
Mushrooms, to win such homage as this, must be picked in the fields and cooked at home. The forced mushrooms which grow under the shelf in ​the greenhouse or in a corner of the cellar lack something of divinity; while there is not a restaurant chef in the world who has not a long record of ruined mushrooms to his name. No sooner does a public cook get at a mushroom than it begins to deteriorate. When the chef comes in at the door the savour flies out of the window. It is a point of honour with him. When therefore I said that one can never have enough mushrooms I meant at home.
It is an injustice to the mushroom to eat it as an adjunct to other food; while there is one meat in alliance it renders unwholesome. The odd thing is that every one differs as to what this meat is; but my own hazy recollection says mutton. Still that prohibition is not for us, who know the only way in which mushrooms should be eaten: fried, with bread and butter, and the butter spread too thick.
# Punch/Volume 147/Issue 3821/Charivaria

A weekly selection of short humorous items, normally on the first page of each issue.
CHARIVARIA.
The German troops which started out for a "pleasure trip" to Paris are now reported, owing, no doubt, to the influence of British environment, to be taking their pleasures sadly.
Several reasons have been given for the destruction of Rheims Cathedral. The real one is now said to be the following. Owing to the Red Cross Flag being flown from one of the towers the Germans thought the building was a hospital.
A Scotsman gifted with much native humour wishes it to be known how glad he is to see that the Frenchmen have been getting their Aisne back.
It is reported that the Kaiser is proceeding to East Prussia to assume the chief command there. In Petrograd the news is only credited by extreme optimists.
It does not say much for the enterprise of our English newspapers that we should have had to go all the way to India for a reference to what must have been an exceedingly clever capture of one of the enemy. "As the war progresses," says The Times of India of the 20th ult., "the stories of German brutality become more and more frequent. One instance is shown in a letter from a German soldier captured in a mail-bag in Lorraine."
We have always held that the Turkish sense of humour has been underrated. A leading Ottoman statesman has told Der Tag (the newspaper of that name: the real thing has not turned up yet): "We only fear for Germany one thing—her magnanimity towards the conquered, a quality which she shares with the great Turkish conquerors of the past."
There is reported to be an uneasy feeling among the poor in our big towns that, if hard times should come, an attempt will be made to foist on them many of the weirder garments which kind-hearted ladies have been making for the troops.
The attention of the public is being directed to the value of fish as a food, in contradistinction, we suppose, to its remarkable qualities as a perfume.
Mr. Lloyd George's statement that "The Prussian Junker is the road-hog of modern Europe" has, we hear, had a curious and satisfactory sequel. Large numbers of adept in the art of pig-sticking are joining the Sportsman's Battalion which is now in process of formation.
Not the least encouraging result of the War would seem to be that it had put a stopper on decadent ideas as to dress. Mlle. Gary Deslys, we read, found herself unable to begin her season at the Palace the week before last as her dresses were delayed in Paris.
A London-born Italian organ-grinder who was plying his trade in Wales has, The Express tells us, enlisted in Lord Kitchener's Army for foreign service, and has left his organ in charge of the recruiting officer at Barmouth. A pity. It should have made a powerful weapon to use against the enemy.
So much has been written about the brutality of the Germans that it seems only fair to draw attention to an act of humanity on their part. Steps have been taken at Stuttgart, at any rate, to protect prisoners against annoyance. "It is," runs a proclamation, "rigorously forbidden for any woman to cast amorous glances at British and French prisoners."
# Royal Naval Biography/Blacker, Stewart

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STEWART BLACKER, Esq. [Post-Captain of 1821.]
Passed his examination for lieutenant in Mar. 1808; and was promoted to that rank on the 20th of the following month. He was wounded in a boat attack, while serving under Rear-Admiral Sotheby, Sept. 9, 1810; advanced to the rank of commander, Feb. 1, 1812; appointed to the Chanticleer brig, May 3, 1813; to the Lee ship-sloop, Sept. 3, 1818; and posted November, 16, 1821.
Captain Blacker died at Dublin, about June, 1826.
# Royal Naval Biography/Blackler, Robert Tom

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ROBERT TOM BLACKLER, Esq. [Commander.]
Obtained the rank of lieutenant in Feb. 1800; and was wounded while serving as first of the Iphigenia frigate. Captain Henry Lambert, in the disastrous affair at Port Sud-Est, Aug. 24th, 1810. His commission as commander bears date Aug. 2d, 1811.
# Royal Naval Biography/Blake, Patrick John

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PATRICK JOHN BLAKE, Esq. [Commander.]
Was made a lieutenant on the 19th July, 1823, and commander Jan. 15th, 1830.
# Royal Naval Biography/Blakiston, Thomas

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THOMAS BLAKISTON, Esq. [Commander.]
Fourth son of the late Sir Matthew Blakiston, Bart., (whose father was Lord Mayor of London in 1760) by Anne, daughter of John Rochford, Esq. of Clogbreanan, co. Carlow, Ireland.
This officer served as midshipman on board the Magnificent 74, Captain William Henry Jervis, and was wrecked in that ship, on a sunken rock near Brest, Mar. 25th, 1804. He passed his examination in the beginning of Jan. 1810; obtained his first commission on the 11th of the same month; and subsequently served under Sir John Gore, in the Tonnant 80, principally employed off Brest, l’Orient, and Rochfort; Revenge 74, on the Mediterranean station; and, for upwards of three years, as his flag-lieutenant in the river Medway. He obtained the rank of commander on the 2d July 1821; and married, Aug. 7th, 1827, Harriet, fourth daughter of Lieutenant-Col. Harvey, of Thorpe.
# Royal Naval Biography/Blackwood, Francis Price

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FRANCIS PRICE BLACKWOOD, Esq. [Commander.]
Second son of the late Vice-Admiral the Hon. Sir Henry Blackwood, Bart., K.C.B., by his third wife, the daughter of Francis Gore, Esq., of Ireland.
This officer entered the royal navy in 1821; obtained his first commission on the 8th Aug. 1828; and was advanced to his present rank Nov. 22d, 1830. He now commands the Hyacinth sloop, in the East Indies, for which station he sailed on the 7th May, 1833. His half brother. Sir Henry Martin Blackwood, Bart., is a captain in the navy.
# Royal Naval Biography/Blackwood, Price

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PRICE BLACKWOOD, Esq. [Post-Captain of 1823.]
Son of the Hon. Hans Blackwood, brother to Lord Dufferin, by M. Hester, second daughter and co-heiress of Sir Robert Temple, Bart.
Mr. Price Blackwood was born at Dublin, May 26th, 1796. He first went to sea, May, 1808, in the Warspite 74, commanded by his uncle. Captain (now Sir Henry) Blackwood, under whom he continued to serve, on the Mediterranean and Channel stations, until about June, 1813; when, having passed his examination for lieutenant, he joined the Goliah 58, Captain Frederick Lewis Maitland, fitting out for the North American station; where he was promoted into the Mohawk sloop, Captain Henry Litchfield, March 10, 1814. His subsequent appointments were, – Oct. 1st, 1814, to the Tanais 38, Captain Joseph James; – June 10th, 1816, to the Active 46, Captain Philip Carteret (both of which frigates were employed in the West Indies); – Aug. 6th, 1819, to the Leander 60, as flag-lieutenant to Sir Henry Blackwood; and in April, 1820, to act as commander of the Curlew sloop, then employed in the Persian Gulph, and afterwards in the China seas. In Feb. 1822, his uncle appointed him acting captain of the Leander; and in May following he was removed to the Topaze 46, which frigate he brought home ​and paid off, in October, 1822. His Admiralty commissions as Commander and Post-Captain bear date June 4th, 1821, and April 2d, 1823.
Captain Price Blackwood married, July 4th, 1825, Helen Selina, eldest daughter of the late Thomas Sheridan, Esq.
Agents.– Messrs. Cooke, Halford, and Son.
# Royal Naval Biography/Blair, Charles

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CHARLES BLAIR, Esq. [Commander.]
Was made a lieutenant into the Rochfort 80, flag-ship of Sir Graham Moore, on the Mediterranean station, Mar. 9th, 1822; and subsequently served in the Doris frigate, in South America, where he assisted in saving a French national brig and a Brazilian corvette from destruction, in 1825. He obtained his present rank on the 30th Sept. 1830.
# Royal Naval Biography/Blake, George Charles

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GEORGE CHARLES BLAKE, Esq. [Commander.]
Obtained his first commission in April 1806; and was promoted to his present rank, from the Royal George yacht, Oct. 11th, 1819. e had previously served as senior lieutenant of the Rivoli 74, Captains Graham E. Hamond and Edward S. Dickson, on the Mediterranean station; Pique ​frigate, Captain the Hon. Anthony Maitland; Vengeur 74, Captain Thomas Alexander, guard-ship at Portsmouth; and Queen Charlotte 108, flag-ship of Admiral Sir George Camphell, commander-in-chief on that station. He has since commanded the Pearl 20, employed on the coast of Ireland.
# Royal Naval Biography/Blackwood, Henry Martin

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HENRY MARTIN BLACKWOOD, Esq. [Post-Captain of 1827.]
Son of Vice-Admiral the Hon. Sir Henry Blackwood, Bart., K.C.B., by his second wife, Eliza, fourth daughter of the late Captain Martin Waghorn, R.N.
This officer was born on the 11th of June, 1801; made a lieutenant Nov. 30th, 1821; appointed to the Nimrod sloop. Captain William Rochfort, July 6th, 1822; to the Active frigate, Captain Andrew King, Mar. 1st, 1823; and advanced to the rank of commander, Dec. 1st following. His next appointment was, July 26th, 1826, to the Jasper sloop, in ​which vessel he served on the Mediterranean station, till promoted to the rank of captain, April 28th, 1827.
Agents.– Messrs. Cooke, Halford, & Son.
# Shakespeare - First Folio facsimile (1910)/The Tragedie of Cymbeline/Act 4 Scene 2

Scena Secunda.
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# Shakespeare - First Folio facsimile (1910)/The Tragedie of Cymbeline/Act 5 Scene 1

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
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