Satire

Max Beerbohm, surnamed by the immovable literary megalith, G. B. Shaw, "the incomparable," last week again popped out of his bottle.

He depicted the Prince of Wales in Manhattan, evidently in that holy of holies le grand monde. The Prince is surrounded by a mob of females of the heavily bejeweled ladder-climbing variety. One says:

"Prince, you were right through that great war, you know what a life and death struggle is and all I ask is that you'll win me mine for the social leadership."

Another:

"Don't you heed that plebian Prince. You've read your C. Darwin and know what's meant by the survival of the fittest. I'm the fittest. Snatch a kiss right here in the eyes of all and that'll settle the survival."

This is crude satire on U. S. society which, whatever it is, is what it is and at that not vastly different from other societies. What, it may be asked, is the use of the corps diplomatique straining its brains and buttons to preserve the international amenities when at one fell blow they are violated without pomp or ceremony by a pictorial incitement to popular mutiny. It remains a shining platitude that all the efforts of suave diplomatists to weld Anglo-Saxonism into a case-hardened ideal are as a potato to a sitting hen in the face of the deft strokes of irresponsible, irrepressible caricaturists and others. Charles Dickens, to use the words of Carlyle, caused "all Yankee- doodle-dom" to blaze up "like one universal soda bottle," when he ventured to criticize some aspects of 100% American democracy. Such are the repercussions of a single act.

Max no doubt meant nothing to which exception could be taken--he is always a good casuist in defending himself. His latest caricature may cause an explosion or two, but statesmen's hair will hardly turn prematurely grey over night, nor will an epidemic of Anglophobia convulse the U. S. More chuckles than anything can be expected to ruffle the Atlantic. Nonetheless, the danger is latent. Anglo-American friendship rests on the good feelings of each people and that disposition is not shown by the diplomats but by the artists and authors.