St Hugh's College, Oxford - The Imp, Mar 1930

I9 Z9- 30 4,......,:,

COMMITTEE. Editor Treasurer

M. F. EVANS.

- M.

MARTIN.

Third Year Representative -

G. JOEL.

Second „

- H. FORTH.

First

- F. HOULSTON.

THE IMP MARCH, 1930.

Editorial COMPETITION.

T

HE prize of 5/- for the best Clerihew has been awarded to Miss Green. Proxinie accessit, Miss Henderson.

There were no entries for the other competition ; most people evidently preferring to let sleeping dogs lie.

The Imp, as will be noticed, refuses to believe in the return of curves, and obstinately clings to the fashionably slim outline. It is, however, to be hoped that he will fill out a little in the summer. In the Spring a young girl's fancy does not seem to turn to literary endeavour.

Depressed by the prospects offered by the Board of Education, the Editor has decided to follow her own bent and set up in a small way as a Witch. In the hope of finding generous patrons at St. Hugh's, a preliminary prospectus is herewith enclosed :Evil eyes from r/-.

Waxen images from 5/- (0.S. extra). These may be delivered at customers' own door on a plain broom-stick, or the Witch's own image may be used at 6d. per pin.

All the ingredients of Hell-broth for inimical coffee parties, including a special line in Jews' livers, r/-. (Guaranteed blasphemers, 4d. extra.)

Familiars of either sex hired out to lonely students.

Spirits called from the vasty deep at reasonable charges according to depth. (N.B.-2S. allowance on returned empties.)

Tutors promptly and carefully metamorphosed : bodies disposed of in Witch's private menagerie or given to the Oxford Zoo. It is hoped that night classes in Necromancy may be arranged.

No responsibility is taken for the results of students' own spells.

M. F. E,

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THE IMP

Clerihews First Prize.

Edith Sitwell, Though she couldn't write verse a bit well, Said, ' It can't be helped if it doesn't scan, I'm going to cram as many meaningless words into one B.G. line as I possibly can.'

Proxime accessit.

The tantrums of Achilles Gave his contemporaries the willies ; They wished that his mother when making him stronger B.H. Had held him under just a little longer.

Just

SO

Hear and attend and listen, for these befell and behappened and were, Best Beloved, in the High and Far-off Times when the Howling Desert was scattered over with one hundred and fifty odd Just-Evolved Vertebrates.

There was a Camel, and he lived in the middle of the Howling Desert. because he didn't want to work ; and besides, he was a Howler all to himself. He had a snickety habit of changing his Howlerish self into the more impressive and 'sclusively original form of the Most Wise Bavian, the dog-headed Baboon. And he was Quite the Wisest Animal in all South Africa.

On Monday morning in the world so new and all, the Djinn in charge of All Deserts came rolling along in a cloud of dust (Djinns always travel that way). He took a bearing across the Howling Desert and landed with more than oriental splendour as close to Quite the Wisest Animal as he dared. Said the Djinn of All Deserts, Can you tell me whether the aboriginal fauna have practised their Lenten Resolution this morning? ' And the Bavian winked. He knew.

And the Djinn waited. He had to.

Presently, for he was an animal of infinite resource and sagacity, the Most Wise opened his mouth very slowly, 0 very, very slowly, Best Beloved, and held a palaver, and an indaba, and a punchayet, and a powwow on the edge of the Desert, and said, Not so, but far otherwise.'

(Bavians always talk like that.) . . . We will now seriously devote ourselves to a little High Tension. . . .

I am the Most Wise Bavian, speaking in Most Wise tones :I have blessed All Animals by generating A New Philosophy.

Alone I found it, And by a Radiator.

After much ambulatory meditation I have decided to call it " The Intrinsic Import of a Corridor," '

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3

But by this time the Djinn of All Deserts was playing wild and woolly hockey in the middle of the Howling Desert. He was well up in Relative Values, you see.

There very soon hove in view the Elephant's Child, a Tidy Pachyderm.

He had a 'normous sounding trumpet, so you could always hear him, Best Beloved. Just now he had returned from playing golf on the banks of the great grey-green greasy Limpopo River, all set about with fever-trees.

He was full of 'satiable slangoids, and that means that he spoke very High and Far-off language indeed. His staple phrase was something like ' Hageyed Wart,' all plastered about with D'you see's,' which was all the result of his 'satiable slangoids, and these were of course far more impressive than a mere-smear vocabulary. He soon stumped away, followed by a nice breezy Whale and the Senior Giraffe, and as they laughed along you would have known, Best Beloved, how the Howling Desert got its name.

There was a Stickly-Prickly Hedgehog, and he lived on the banks of the turbid Amazon, talking about dances and things. And he had a friend, a Slow-Solid Tortoise, who lived on the banks of the turbid Amazon, talking about dances and things. They talked with care and with emphasis in the most exclusive manner, all for the benefit of the very turbid Amazon of a Sunday morning. And, Best Beloved, they once gave a Pianoforte Recital with the most 'scruciating skill, all for a gesture to the Djinn in charge of All Deserts. And if he and the turbid Amazon and the whole Howling Desert didn't feel quite comfy, that wasn't their fault, was it? Do you see?

H.M.F. Wind in my ears, in my loose hair streaming, Wind where the deep-folded hills lie dreaming : Down in the creeks on the strewn sea sand, Out with the waves on the sweeping strand, In the troubled rock-pools And the blown sea-weed, Wind everywhere.

In the aspen trees on silver leaves rustling, Through the grey bent grass on the cliff-top hustling ; Wind in the taut white yacht sails flying, Round the sleepy brown cottage thatch whispering, dying, Rising again With a leaping music, Wind in my heart.

Transformation Her face was always pale, and her eyes brown and sleepy. She had a habit of walking seriously along the corridors with an air of subtle appreciation and judgment like an eighteenth century ' connoisseur.' Green seemed to express her mental state and she wore it with a natural flair.'

They called her inscrutable and inimitable and unbeatable. All vague adjectives could he applied to her because nobody understood.

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But she had an imp inside her. Sometimes, when no one expected it, it flickered in her eyes, it took hold of her hands, it shrugged her shoulders, and twitched her eyebrows. It quickened to life the serious mouth, and impelled her feet to some queer maze of steps. Her jokes were hailed with screams of laughter. She had a way of putting her hand over her mouth as if thinking, and then throwing back her head to speak again. Where did it come from, that imp? It gave the feeling that a conjurer creates in a child : where does he keep his rabbits? Are they up his sleeve or in his pocket?

Before you can guess, it has gone. Her eyes look sleepy ; the considered air comes back. But there is a new meaning in the green now.

You could not explain before why it expressed her so well. Of course, rabbits are so fond of green : she has a spring of life hidden away, with the colour as a mere sign of its being. F. M. H. When Socrates bore Down upon F She vanquished him clean With ' What quite do you mean? ' J. W. I.

A Simple Story CHAPTER I. When Cuthbert came up to Keble he determined to be a rowing man.

He distinguished himself in the Freshers' trials, rowed splendidly in Toggers, magnificently in Eights, and was finally chosen to represent his University. Modest though he was, such an achievement could hardly fail to be gratifying. He could be heard whistling in his room as he did his morning exercises.

Cuthbert was of so open a nature that he was soon a general favourite among the crew. There was, however, one exception. Gerald of Pembroke College had Jong eyed Cuthbert's rise to fame with jealousy. His spleen was now so great that he spent his afternoons in running along the towing-path making unpleasant and untruthful comments on Cuthbert's style. Gerald was no gentleman.

One afternoon Cuthbert sauntered down to the river, arm-in-arm with the cox, in happy mood. ' Come home with me afterwards,' said the cox, ' and I will show you my sister's photograph.' ' Thank you,' said Cuthbert.

But it was not to be. During the afternoon the man who rowed next to Cuthbert had the misfortune to catch a crab, and received a few sharp words from the cox. Cuthbert thought little of it at the time. Presently a halt was called, and the crew got out to exercise their stiff limbs on land. Cuthbert ran far along the towing-path, feeling at peace with all the world. When he returned the others were all in their places — and Gerald was in his place. Gerald stood as one stupified. The coach looked at him sternly.

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5

You fouled No. 5's oar. It was a trick unYou may go,' he said. worthy of a gentleman and a member of the Oxford Crew.'

Cuthbert scorned to defend himself from so unjust an accusation. He gave his friend the cox one look. The cox blushed and bit his lip. Cuthbert turned upon his manly heel and strode away.

He walked home in a turmoil of anger and despair. He to be turned out of the Oxford boat ! It would be in all the papers. He thought of his old mother, of his nurse, of his headmaster : what would they say? He groaned. aloud. He felt that he must do something desperate. Although he had always been brought up a teetotaller, he felt that he must now have a drink. After all, he reflected grimly, it would not matter now if he broke his training. Furtively he slunk into a confectioner's shop and ordered a Penny Monster. But when it was brought to him his better feelings triumphed, and he dashed it to the ground. When he had paid for the damage he returned to his college.

That night as he was sitting on his bed in his nightshirt, having just said his prayers, there came a knock at the door.

Come in,' said Cuthbert. It was his friend the cox. ' Old man,' he said, I could not go to bed without letting you know that I trust you. I said as much to the coach. He would not listen to me.

He is a brute. I shall resign.'

Cuthbert was touched. He put out his hand and said simply, Thanks.'

Both wiped away a manly tear.

But,' continued Cuthbert after a pause, you must not resign. Think of your sister. As for me, I know that I am innocent, and that is enough.

I only hope that Oxford has got the better man.'

The clock struck nine. They parted. It was an affecting scene.

CHAPTER II. It was Sunday afternoon. Cuthbert made his way into North Oxford.

He was about to take tea with the Smythes.

Sylvia Smythe stood in front of her glass. She was now twenty-nine and still unmarried. This was not from lack of perseverance. Every Sunday afternoon toiled another knell to her hopes. .She took out a small bottle of Reve d'Amour which she had bought yesterday. She knew it was extravagance, but as she lightly sprinkled the perfume she felt that this act was in some way symbolic. It was.

That afternoon there was no one but Cuthbert. He seemed despondent.

You are not eating anything,' she said. ' No,' he replied ; I am off my pecker.'

She sighed gently. I know what it is,' she said. You are worrying about the boat race. Can you not confide in me? They told me you were deserting to Cambridge, but I would not believe it.'

Never ! ' he replied stoutly.

Cuthbert had never thought much about women, but as he looked at Sylvia there seemed something about her which made him wish to open his heart. He told her all.

I would not wish to speak harshly of anyone,' he concluded, but I am convinced that it was Gerald's doing. He is not a nice fellow. I should not mind so much if I felt that Oxford had a better chance, but few people can help noticing that Gerald does not row at the same pace as the others.'

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' You feel that if you could row instead of him again Oxford would win? ' Yes,' he replied simply, ' I do.'

Cuthbert,' she said, I cannot help feeling that all will be well. Will you promise me not to give up your training and to trust in me?'

He promised her.

CHAPTER III. It was the day of the Boat Race. Seething crowds surged on the banks of the Thames. Sylvia and Cuthbert were among them. They stood just by the starting point. She seemed strangely pale and excited.

Cuthbert looked wistfully at the boats. The crews were coming down.

One by one his old friends passed him without a look. Yes, there was Gerald. He could not even walk in step. They entered the boat. All was excitement. The starter lifted his pistol. Suddenly Gerald flung up his arms.

I am ill,' he cried ; I cannot row.' And clambering out of the boat he fled away.

Everyone was stupified. The coach looked up and saw Cuthbert.

Will you row for Oxford?' he said.

For answer, Cuthbert flung off his coat and revealed himself in full rowing kit.

Sir,' he replied manfully, I have my togs and am willing to do my best.'

A cheer went up. Cuthbert stepped in, and the race began. It was acknowledged by all to have been one of the most exciting races in history.

Oxford won by half a length. Cuthbert was the hero of the hour. His name was on everyone's lips. Sylvia was the first to greet him.

My hero ! ' she cried.

But how did it happen?' he asked.

She blushed. It was I, Cuthbert. I put twelve cascados in his Beemax.'

He gazed at her with reverent awe, then clasped her to him.

Sylvia ! ' he cried.

Cuthbert ! ' she murmured.

M. F. E.

THE IMP

7

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8

THE IMP

At Home to Meet the Vice-Chancellor To meet the Vice-Chancellor. Do I desire to meet the worthy gentleman? Has he even the glimmerings of a desire to set eyes on me? Then why am I asked? Heaven only knows. You think, perhaps, because mine host likes me passing well? Rather because there are thirteen threatening to descend upon him, and he clings to his superstitions as a last pitiful gesture of self. Then he wishes the Great to scintillate against a background of platitudinous dullness, against the drabness of mediocrity.

And why do I accept? It is less effort to go than to refrain from going. Like some floating green protoplasmic water-denizen, the lump of matter that is me' slimes passively on top of the murky pool that is Life, never deeply delving. Sometimes there is a feebly self-conscious flicker of revolt ultimately and finitely falling back into the general oilily-swirling, darkly-bubbling onwardness.

We nibble sandwiches and talk loudly—a group of poseurs, only a few rising out of the seemingly-endless mediocrity— great souls remaining quiet and at least eating with a certain perfectness—while we . . . making an art of nothingness.

Cynically deprecating, we cherish a feverish and persistently-harrying hope of notice from the great. We dress in our best clothes, paint our faces and pluck out our eyebrows. And here we stand—mere blobs of semi-matter, not animated, but giving the appearance of artificial stimulation.

A woman in a purple velvet hat, a bosom and a boa has the ear of the Personage. Why? We say she has personality, in an attempt to explain our own incapacity of being — let alone of doing. Absurdly enough, I worry because one less beautiful than I.claims the attention of the Symbol of Pomp—a symbol with no ultimate significance. For what is a. ViceChancellor, the Big Bugs say, but a threading together of beads of the fundamental—electricity. They say he would occupy the space of a needlepoint on resolution into his ultimate parts. But I am larger than he. He would light my poorly-glowiUg reading-lamp for a pin-point of time. I might light it a little longer. Illuminating thought.

The President Went out with the Vice on pleasure bent.

She said : If anyone asks where we are, • Tell them we are reforming the constitution of the J.C.R.'

Captain Brassbound's Conversion May the Second Year be congratulated on their choice of a play? ' Captain Brassbound's Conversion ' is an early work of Shaw's, built on a shallow but entertaining idea. It is clever, and makes good theatre,' and is noble prey for amateurs who have a humorous and dignified actress in their midst. Her the Second Year possessed in Miss E. Brown, who not only looked entrancing but brought to the part charm and finish, combined with a telling manner of saying her lines to be expected of few but the professional. She gave Mr. Shaw his full due. In the Irvinesque manner, may we whisper, Keep an eye on the promising young actress.'

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9

The play is nominally about Captain Brassbound, the dashing, brave, mysterious, romantic Brassbound ; but, although he has all these qualities in abundance, they appear unheroic and unromantic when brought on the stage for the inspection of Lady Cicely ; just as Mr. Shaw intended they should. Brassbound degenerates into a foil for the heroine's character.

His rantings are incredible to everyone, but Miss Attenborough made them seem incredible also to herself. Otherwise she tackled the part very manfully, abandoned the moral-philosophical-rhetorical-political tone after a few attempts, and with a toss of her sun-tanned, wind-swept head and a flash from those savage and commanding eyes made us all sigh for Lady Cicely's foolishness in not accepting such a handsome young man. Moreover, at times she attained real sincerity, especially in her scenes with the lady.

These two actresses distinguished themselves both separately and as a pair, but the laurels must go to Miss Slimon as Sir Howard Hallam. She had thought out her part, and acted with intelligence and humour. Her gestures were seldom those of nervousness, and her facial expressions were all that one expects from an English, legal and rather hypocritical old gentleman.

We were mournful when we heard that misfortune had overtaken the original Drinkwater. We determined to be indulgent to the noble struggles of Miss Forth, the producer, who took the part at a day's notice. But we were cheated of our charity. Except for a certain difficulty with the refinements of Cockney accent, she played the part very adequately, and wisely made up for her sketchy treatment of the words by what can only be called some excellent film technique. Who would have missed those round, startled, hooligan eyes as Drinkwater was dragged off to his bath.

The rest of Brassbound's band were picturesque in their varying shades of masculinity ; but for manliness, dignity, and a most beautiful beard give me Johnson. Miss Penhale was a pictorial triumph. Miss Pape made the very most out of Marzio's infinitesimal part. Miss Vile rivalled the hero in good looks, though she looked more like a belonging of this University than of the Atlas mountains.

The coloured personages were effective to the eye, but might have adopted a more ' native ' tone of voice. There is something ludicrous in using the deedildee-dee ' cadence for Arab formalities. The Cadi, however, managed his fine fury well. He was brown, bustling, and distraught, which is more than can be said for most amateur Cadis.

Miss Talbot and the Missionary Rankin struggled hard, but Youth and Beauty conquered. They picked flowers and occasionally assumed a Scotch accent with a charming grace.

The American Bluejacket was made nice and pink by Miss Cooper. Mr. Shaw's rather obvious Americanisms were somehow given freshness by Miss Butt as the Captain. Her utterance was judiciously dry, and her cap was put on at just the right angle.

The performance as a whole was entertaining, though it lacked finish.

It ran smoothly, and the dialogue was seldom blurred. Everyone treated their parts easily, and so the general effect was spontaneous and bright.

The Second Year deserve more claps than they got for building up through those weeks of aggravating rehearsals such a good performance.

P.B. The Imp, who always likes to fancy himself the artist's patron, takes this opportunity to congratulate Miss Pape on one of the most effective posters he ever remembers to have seen in College.—ED.

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Well, there was nothing one of them couldn't do with 'is face—

—and another 'ad such a narsty ixpression under one of them sun 'elmets.

Then there was a Arab struck me as pertickulerly 'ansom-

—and I fair lost me 'eart to one of the crew.

But they was nothink to look at beside the Captain—

—'e reelly was wot you might call D1STANGAY.

THE IMP

If

Things We Want to Know Whether the J.C.R. does not need a Whinnying Pulpit and a parking-place for satellites?

What is the temperature at the Lawn?

What are the uses of Politics Cuttings?

Whether the Chair of Philosophy is still clouded o'er?

The price of a battleship?

Whether the sociable Secretary is going to arrange another trip to Geneva?

Anglo-Saxon Why did the Anglo-Saxons, Our otherwise refreshingly na誰ve ancestors, Talk such a revolting lingo?

I am prepared to believe That they were simple souls Possessing- chivalry, piety and valour ; They were no doubt Kind to their wives and families ; No doubt they put in a lot of handy spade-work In the way of exterminating dragons And similar public nuisances ; But, to take a simple instance, lElfric's Life of the Saintly Oswold When pronounced with the true Anglo-Saxon nuances Sounds like the empurpled vituperation Of a highly imaginative bargee In his cups.

B. H.

Reports HOCKEY. The weather this term has been more favourable than it was- before Christmas, and the only reason why matches had to be scratched has been scarcity of players. I should like to express my gratitude to those members of both teams who have so enthusiastically turned out time after time, and on whom all the ' dirty work has fallen. Also, may I take this opportunity of thanking all who have so kindly refereed for us.

Of the five matches played by the First XI, two have been won and three lost, while two were scratched and one unfinished owing to a heavy rainstorm. The Second XI have lost three and scratched two matches, and have yet one to play. The First XI met Somerville in the final Cupper, and were only beaten after a very hard fight by four goals to three.

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I should like to congratulate the following people on getting their colours :• Badge—I. A. Josephy.

First XI Ties—C. Dewhurst, H. Faure, F. 0. W. Hoare.

Second XI Ties.—H. Huse, B. Sharp.

Lastly, I want to thank E. J. Slimon for the very hard work she has put in as vice-captain. She has given up a lot of time to practices, especially the ones she organised immediately after lunch, and I should like to take this opportunity to express my very real gratitude for all she has done.

FIRST XI. A reliable player. She should try to clear

F. W. 0. HOARE (goal). quicker and harder.

M. K. BEATTIE (left-back). I have nothing to say except to congratulate her on the excellent form she has shown all the season.

E. J. SLIMON (right-back). A steady and reliable back. She should try to clear harder.

M. ZVEGINTZOV (left-half). Plays a very neat and clever game ; combines well with the left-back.

I. A. JOSEPHY (centre-half). Marks well and opens up the game. Is inclined to starve the forwards on the right side of the field.

C. DEWHURST (right-half). Sticks well to her wing and is always depend' able. Must develop a harder hit.

F. R. SAUNDERS-JACOBS (left-wing). Clever stick-work and very quick, but she cannot give a hard centre and must try to combine with the left-inner.

R. ATTENBOROUGH (left-inner). Impossible for me to criticise her, and I can only congratulate her very heartily on the very fine game she invariably plays.

H. FAURE (centre-forward). Has improved a very great deal. Shoots hard and tackles back well. Should try to pass out to the right-wing more.

K. JACKSON (right-inner).

H. WINTER (right-wing). Clever stick-work and very quick. Should be careful not to barge, and should try to combine with the right-inner more.

Played occasionally :L. E. BRADDICK (left-back). A sound playe r. Should try to open up the game more by hitting into a space.

B. SHARP (left-half). Has improved greatly. Sticks well to the wing, but must develop neater stick-work.

C. DUTHOIT (left-inner or centre-forward). Plays a very energetic game but is inclined to muddle.

SECOND XI. Bromley ; Portsmore, Braddick ; Mortlock, Hare, Sharp ; Huse, Willing, Duthoit, Gooderson, Thorp.

K. JACKSON.

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3

1

LACROSSE. Owing to the disappointing shortage of players, play has been disappointing this term. However, we did not suffer from a disappointing shortage of players in the Cupper team, which failed to suffer defeat in the Cupper against L.M.H., beating them by one goal in the ten minutes' replay, which must, however, have caused L.M.H. to suffer disappointment. We hope to undergo a similar failure to suffer defeat in the final, against Somerville. Unfortunately, other College matches were scratched owing to shortage of players and to infection among visiting teams, who therefore failed to visit.

The team has not fallen short in its enthusiasm for practising in odd moments, although there has been a disappointing shortage of odd moments.

The general standard of play has not been disappointing—i.e., has been good—especially among the attacks, of whom H. Haworth, K. Harman and J. Sprinks have been the least disappointing. The defences are very indebted to certain members of the Hockey team for their effective support, although we fear that the Hockey team must thus have suffered from a disappointing shortage of players.

College Team :—Goal, Bromley ; point, Buick (captain) ; cover-point, Beattie ; 3rd man, Grey ; left defence, Stradling ; right defence, Zvegintzov ; centre, Harman ; left attack, Faure ; right attack, Haworth ; 3rd home, Elliman ; znd home, Sprules ; 1st home, Duthoit.

M.B. NETBALL. First VII : Lomax S., Collington A., Huse A. C., Hall C., Joel C. D., Brown D., Vincent G. D. Practices have been well attended this term, and the general standard of play has improved. The first team won their matches against Headington and King's College, and drew with Wychwood, but lost the Cupper against Home Students 12-1o. The Second VII played well against Bedford, and lost by a very narrow margin.

Of individual players, Collington, Brown, Huse and Vincent played their usual admirable role of backbone in the team. Lomax unfortunately had to retire half-way through the term from illness, and her neat tactics and brilliant shooting were greatly missed. Hall has proved a quick and reliable centre, and the excellent work of Holt, Betts and Basilevitch in both teams deserve special mention.

G. J.

CONSTITUTION OF THE COLLEGE MAGAZINE. i.—That the Magazine shall be called

THE IMP.'

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