LONDON TOPICS

Evening Star, Issue 21515, 13 September 1933, Page 7

LONDON TOPICS

ADJOURNMENT OF PARLIAMENT [FrOU Ouß CORRESPONDENT.] LONDON, August 3. THREE MONTHS. Last week-end Parliament adjourned for three months. For ninety days we shall bo spared the eternal talkie of the House of Commons, and a blessed silence will reign in that ante-room of gossip known as “ the lobby.” It seems too good to be true. The accepted fiction is that Ministers hail this interim as thankfully as Hamlet’s sentinel did his guard relief. Actually it makes very little difference to them, except that they are free to get right away, and leave the affairs of their department to those permanent officials who in fact manage them all the year round. The theory that the House of Commons controls Ministers, and Ministers control Whitehall departments, is an amusing relic of a vanished epoch. The gigantic, robot of the bureaucracy now completely overshadows a Parliament that boasts giants no more.- Even our politics have been mechanised nowadays. ONE-WAY SAUCE. To any onlooker with more brains than the average trade union M.P., the T.U.C.’s new attitude towards dictatorship is quite amusing. Scared stiff by current talk about Fascism and Hitlerism, the T.U.C. now registers. its vehement protest against any and all attempts to undermine the constitutional supremacy of Parliament. Yet the T.U.C. is the body that ran the general strike against Parliament, and which, the moment the first Labour Government came into office, asserted the right to censor and : control the policies and actions of Ministers of 'the Crown. This direct usurpation of Imperial Parliament’s prerogative was the first attempt to revive a “ divine right ” above that of elected Parliament since the time of Charles I. In the light of these facts the present T.U.C. agitation is merely comic. MR LLOYD GEORGE. Mr Lloyd George’s final oration of the parliamentary session is still being eagerly discussed, and having far-flung repercussions. It rnvonled him as in many ways apparently a changed elder statesman. He recognises that nobody can be blamed for the fiasco of the Economic Conference, which was simply due to the times being, as Hamlet said, out of joint. He also teems to have reconciled himself, though still staunch to his own private convictions, to the burial of Froetrade. The National Government ho regards as a necessary expedient badly staffed. But to his old Liberal colleagues and followers this attitude is simply bewildering. They regard him as having “gone native.” One fact seems obvious. Mr Lloyd George is free of party trammels. and ready to help man any seaworthy lifeboat.

DISTINGUISHED EXILE, Professor Einstein has been shown the utmost respect during his visit to this countrv. Amongst his hosts have been Mr W-nston Churchill, Sir Austen Chamberlain, and Mr Lloyd George, not to mention Commander LockerLampson. At Mr Lloyd George’s house he signed the x-isitors’ book, and, in tho .space fo the address, wrote the tragic German xvord “ ohne,” xvhich means “ without.” There is talk .of tho “ inventor ” of relativity becoming a naturalised British subject, but this necessitates five years’ residence, except in cases like Sir Felix Schuster's, xvhero. a special Order in Council during the x l- ar dispensed xvith that preliminary. Professor Einstein is the most distinguished of all Herr Hitler’s exiles, and an Order in Council in bis case would certainly he a popular gesture. But maybe the professor has. other plans. AN ASQUITHiAN REMARK. Listening to the fierce discussion on the C.I.D. arrest of a flying officer and watching Sir John Gilmour’s rather clumsy handling of the incident, I could not help recalling the remark of Mr Asquith, himself a former Home Secretary, in offering the post to one of his colleagues. “ The first. duty of a Home Secretary,” he said, “ is to prevent second-rate questions developin'/ into first-class issues.” Four or five eases in thd course of the last txventy years could bo cited to illustrate the xyisdom of that advice. MISDIRECTED CALUMNY. It must have given the present Lord Londonderry satisfaction to pen the foreword to Professor Hyde’s nexv life of Lord Castlercagh. No figure in our political annals has been so maligned as tho Lord Castlercagh of the Union. Popular ignorance in Ireland prompted by political and religious animosities pictured him as a cruel and corrupt tyrant of the deepest dye. His death was sung in joyous pseans that “ tho devil’s got his due.” Cold r-search now reveals, thanks to Professor Hyde, that Castlercagh xvas a kind-hearted and patriotic Irishman, the very antithesis of xvhnt his calumniators made out. For 132 years Irishmen hax-e been slandering the wrong man. . Not Castlereagh, but George 111., was tho villain of their piece. Sometimes one xvonders whether popular views are ever by any chance anywhere near to the truth. NAVAL DANDY. ■ Admiral . Sir William Pakenham, whose death is announced at the age of seventy-two, xvas tiro recognised dandy of the Royal Navy in his day. A handsome man, xvith tho smartest cut heard and clothes on any quarterdeck, he was all the same a fine sailor, and in his middy days is reputed to have performed the . hair-raising feat of standing on his head on the main truck. He xvas an admiral’s son and grandson of an earl, and during the war commanded a cruiser squadron before becoming x-ice-admiral of the battlecruiser fleet. He took part in the Dogger Bank and Jutland actions, but smelt sea smoko long before that as a neutral. This xvas xvhen he xvas our naval attache in Tokio. and xvas privileged to he aboard Admiral Togo’s flagship xvhen Japan’s fleet met and sank

the Tsarist Russia’s “ menagerie ” armada. Sir William was also a keen racing enthusiast and member of leading turf clubs. ' TROUBLES OF TOMMY ATKINS. The British soldier is a philosophical person, but I am afraid .the Whitehall brass hats may be worrying him - bit. Right on top of the experimental new Army uniform, which makes a stolid British infantryman look like a cross between a Boy Scout and a dress reformcrj conies tho experimental new Army iron ration. This seems to bo a cross betxvcen a school picnic menu and a food reform diet, consisting of pea flour, cocoa butter, sugar, cocoa powder, beef powder, and oil of lemon. From the private of the line’s point of view its solid recommendation is that it weighs only 7oz compared xvith the 21b bully beef tin and biscuits, with a screw of tea and sugar, xvhich formed the old ration. But whether, the British Army xvill fight as well on a x-egetarian diet modified by a little beef poxx-der as on the old tuck remains to be seen. LIBRARY ROMANCE. A sensational literary “ find ” is announced. The handsome sum of £14,500 has just been realised by the sale of a Shakespearean first folio, xvhich has, in the manner still inevitable apparently even after the slump in dollar fortunes, found its xvay to America. Noxv comes word of another hitherto unknoxvn Shakespearian first folio, which is said to be an uncut edition, and to bear all the typographical marks of such editions. Tiiis has been found in a family library xvhere it has remained since shortly after publication in 1623 until the present moment. Ihe library containing the folio passed in direct succession to the present oxvners from a baronet of James I. s creation. That such a valuable literary treasure should,have been so long unnoticed is a romantic mystery of the hook xvorld. SCRAPPED. We still have Old Bill, the famous London bus that served in the war, and it is now part and parcel ot the Lord Mayor’s Show,' r iHey j OU ™ soon dream of leaving out Old Bill dropping the Lord Mayor, s coacn. UJci Bill had a locomotive compeer in L.M.S engine 2,717. it was one oi a gallant platoon of seventy-eight which Joined up for active service abroad, and therefore qualified for the txvo xvai medals. Number 2,717 bad a xumed xvar experience. In November, .191 was captured by the Germans in the Cambrai counterstroke. and for :months remained as an enemy machine gun post .V No Man’s Land. We recaptured it when we made our victory pus ~ vmr later, and it xvas iso. s wreidf distinction to draw the fin* troop train that reached tne German frontier. Noxv alas, it has been scrapped. the driver of No 2,717 no doubt sounded a Last Post” on Ins xvlnstle. All that remains of it is a pinto recording its valiant battle honours. , s.o.s. Mr A. R. Burrows has some dramatic episodes to narrate in his Story of Broadcasting.’ Take the occasion xvhen •< a gentleman of position " a into the 8.8. C. offices and xvauted to mv for a message to Mars. We went so t'ar, did this enthusiast, as to produce the typexvntten text of what he voxvod was “the orthodox Martian .language, and to volunteer the expert ,nfo |^ l '\ a * lc j 1 that a 35,000 metre wave length xxould lie needed. Perhaps tins xvas the stait ~f the like, agony S.O.S. messages. These are answered in a truly astounding xvay. One message sent out asking help in the case of a man seriously ill in an out-of-the-way village, brought over thirty cars to the rescue. But the patient had already been spirited away to hospital by a local motorist, xxho picked up the xvireless S.O.S.

TRAGEDY. A complete short story might be written round another S.O.S. adventure. A dapper little man was announced at the 8.8. C. office. He said his business was urgent. His wife had been abducted that morning, together with many thousands of pounds, and he wanted a broadcast message sent out. He was told, after much cogitation, that, if Scotland Yard agreed a wireless broadcast was the best course, his request would be granted at once. But nothing was heard till next morning, when the newspapers reported the discovery in the sea off the south coast of a man bearing the name of the unknown 8.8. C. caller. Mr Burrows tells us that even the most illustrious persons, when they make their first broadcast, are visibly perturbed, and invariably ask at the end, “ Was that all right?” OLYMPIAN BRIDGE. In a small but sumptuous apartment last week-end I, with a few privileged spectators, watched the £l,ooo-a-side bridge match betwen a team of London experts and the Culbertsons. Almost all the onlookers were women, and one was titled and beautiful. Play was held up half an hour whilst a phalanx of Press photographers “shot ” the duellists. Part of this delay, however, arose from the amusing fact that there was no pack of cards handy to lend vraisemblance to the snapshots. When one was at last forthcoming Mr Culbbrtson assumed a favourable grand slam atitude and directed a highbrow glance at the cameras. The actual play was interesting, but 1 was struck by the contrast between the two sides. Mr Culbertson and his young American partner were bored with unaffected confidence. Their opponents seemed to me to be feeling the heat. ’ CHARMING PEOPLE. Before the match began I was introduced to both Mr and Mrs pulbertson. I cannot hazard an opinion as to whether they are the best bridge players in the world, but I can state quite frankly that they are the most atractive I ever met. Mrs Culbertson, in a white costume with purple spots to match her fingertips and lipstick, looked a most dainty figure, and is'the only lady I ever encountered who could make a slight American accent sound charming. I asked her to tell me truly whether she still enjoyed playing bridge. “ Truly,” she told me, with an expression of complete. candour in her fine blue eyes, “ I love it.” Her intelligent husband’s view was a bit different. “ This is a fearful game to play,” he.said, “brushing a hand across his brow. “My head is always in the balance.” But that did not prevent his writing up his newspaper article whilst casually playing his hand. 1066 AGAIN. I was at the White City for the Anglo-French athletic contests, and was struck by the weird way racial characteristics express themselves oven in athletes clad in uniform, attire. When the opposing gladiators paraded it was palpably Saxon against Norman once again. There was only one blonde Frenchman, but he was a corker. _ Ho ran away from our champions in a race reckoned a certainty for us. I never saw a more beautiful runner, with a figure pure Greek and long fair hair streaming behind him as he raced. A runaway British victory was levelled to within 11 points by France sweeping the board at the long and pole jumps, the weight, and the discus. A gigantic Frenchman, with limbs like Dumas s Porthos, won the weight with negligent ease. In his grasp the weight seemed a pill, and one Cockney humorist exclaimed: “ Blimey! He’s going to take it!”

THE DISCUS. I wonder why our athletes neglect the art of discus throwing and the sporting experts treat it with scorn. It is, in my opinion, incontrovertibly the most graceful of all field sports. To see these tall athletes, splendidly shaped and finely developed, make that complete waltz turn and then sling the discus high into the air is fascinating to anyone who is not simply engrossed, in track running. Good Continental discus throwers have a range of 140 or 150 feet, and, when they deliver the throw, might - serve as the stand as models for Praxiteles himself. Our athletes seem to be quite outclassed with the discus, and yet it is a sport that must suit our length of limb and ball-throwing tradition. Ido not know whether Australian athletes have taken to this sport yet, but if they do, judging from their capabilities with a Mills bomb, I would be ready to back them.