FIRST AND LAST WORDS

Evening Star, Issue 22720, 6 August 1937, Page 4

FIRST AND LAST WORDS

There aro various lists of last words, and it has always been the pleasant humour of the cynical to “ debunk the “ last words” imputed to William Pitt, Goethe, and many others (says the 1 Manchester Guardian ’). But what of first words? How interesting it would be if we couldl collect, for instance (without being too exacting or literal about the term “ first ”), the early observations of newly-appointed Primo Ministers. In these days, when every public man’s life is lived in public, we may be sure that one of our “ gossips ” will tell tho world what were Mr Chamberlain’s first words on appointment; meanwhile we are entitled, no doyibt, to quote Dizzy’s “ Yes, I have climbed to the top of the greasy pole,” though we may find more pleasure in remembering that first letter to his wife, written without a trace of flamboyance: “ Then the Queen came into her closet with a very radiant face, holding out her hand and saying, ‘ You must kiss hands.’ which I did immediately and very heartily, falling on my knee.” Disraeli’s ardent courtierslup invites a jump of 40 years, for it is probable that Campbell-Bannerman’s “ first words ” must have been an apology for not kissing hands. Spender tells ns that it was only when “ C. 8.” was leaving the Palace after appointment that someone remembered that he had omitted that essential “ sacramental act.” Tho private secretary hurried back to the presence, but was able to return with the assurance that the thing would lie “ taken as done.” We have Gladstone’s first words on being summoned in 1868: “Very significant . . and then after a pause, while he continued to wield his axe, “ My mission is to pacify Ireland.” Arthur Balfour was in no mood to rejoice when his hour came; to him his uncle’s retirement “ assuredly seemed an end rather than a beginning.” From Biarritz in April, 1908. Asquith wired to his wife: “Have just kissed hands; back Friday. Ask Grey to dinner. Bless you.—H.”