LONDON TOPICS

Lake Wakatip Mail, Issue 4264, 26 May 1936, Page 7

LONDON TOPICS

MR EDEN'S TRIUMPH April 2, 1936. Mr Eden has added enormously to his parliamentary prestige. Hitherto lie lias been regarded by his colleagues iu the House of Commons as an active, capable, and tactful young man, but not as one who shone as a front bench orator. Previously the Foreign Secretary has read Ins statements in somewhat harsh and frightfully monotonous tones. On the occasion of his big speech on Franco-German relations he was transformed. Without a single note to guide him he spoke for exactly 65 minutes without a moment’s hesitation, and with clarity of expression and lucidity of thought unrivalled by postwar parliamentarians. Simply as a piece of oratory it was remarkable, but when the profound importance of his subject was taken into consideration, and when every word he spoke will be studied and weighed by France, Germany, and the whole ol Europe, it was an outstanding achievement. Much of what he said was cheered in approval of the policy ho was enunciating, but the applause which followed his speech, and which came from all sides of the House, was a tribute to his personal success. The warmest and most sincere congratulations, however, came from Mr Baldwin, who, as the Foreign Secretary sat down, put an approving arm around his shoulder with cpntc fatheilj affection. TEUTONIC PSYCHOLOGY. A distinguished French diplomat of pre-war vintage, when congratulated on his skilful conduct of difficult negotiations, replied: “My task was easy. 1 had only to wait for the Germans to make mistakes!” Ibis may sound a cynical statement, but synicism is sometimes justified, and it seems to he so with post-war Germany. All the fist-thumping has not, according to reliable report, taken place in Germany, or been done by Hitler on the e\e oi Germany's farcical elections. Herr von Ilibbentrop, apparently thinking that Mr Eden’s suave and youth)ul looks denoted a lack of grim determination of spirit, is said to have pounded the Foreign Office table by way of emphasising his diplomatic points. He could not possibly have made a more disastrous mistake. Our Foreign Secretary is by no means the Minister to he easily intimidated. He has a strong vein of pugnacious virility in his peace fanaticism. Table-thumping is about the last gesture to impress this decep-tive-looking ex-Guardsman. NOT PROVEN. A romantic story has found its way into print about Herr Hitler and Mr Eden. It is to the effect that, when Mr Eden saw Herr Hitler in Berlin not long ago they dined together in the evening, and the talk drifted to the war. Der Fuhrer, who was a lancecorporal in an infantry regiment, described his front-line experiences, illustrating the Iliad by a pencil sketch on the table cloth. He stated that Ins experience included being slightly gassed when opposite a sector of the British lines. As Mr Eden, when serving as a junior officer, once launched a gas attack just about that sector, piquant possibilities at once suggested themselves. This story is probably, almost certainly, pure imagination. There were innumerable gas attacks, after Germany had introduced that form of chivalry on the Western Front, from innumerable front-line sectors. Moreover, it is news that Hitler was ever gassed. It is not mentioned in his life. GLASGOW’S CHAGRIN. Clydeside is mightily indignant because its suitability for launching big ships is criticised. Public opinion, we are told, is to be “ organised,” and the voices of the Clydeside M.P.s raised. It is claimed that the Queen Mary “ never grounded,” though she may have “ touched mud bottom once or twice,” a nice distinction for nautical experts to admire. All this sound and fury means that the Clyde wants to build the new liner’s sister ship. But sporting public opinion may favour the Tyneside, where the much superior sister ship was built. No nice terminological distinctions arose over her launching. Glasgow stresses the economy of building the second liner m the same yards. But public opinion may not grudge even a little extra cost to give Tyneside shipwrights a chance to display their prowess. The depressed East Coast badly needs just such a fillip as Glasgow has already been given. This view may prevail in the right quarters. ‘THINGS TO COME.” A reputable London journal has turned three experts, scientific, aeronautic, and naval, on Mr H. G. Wells s conception of ‘ Things To Come.’ Their ideas are much more enterprising than the novelist’s. The scientist envisages smokefree cities a hundred years hence, synthetic materials, cellulose clothes that need no laundering, and a statutory tribunal that sentences us according to social utility either to chemical rejuvenation or a natural death. The (lying expert thinks air warfare will either have been totally abolished or civilisation will have perished. The naval man pictures far-inland ports and submarine liners and cargo boats controlled bv leader cables. These huge submarines will carry no guns, but have Zedray harmless to living organism, but disintegrating metals on contact 1 would lay long odds against all three prophetic visions, except may he the compressed cellulose clothing and the smoke abatement. It may be noted that, in the above interesting forecasts, the naval Zedray cancels out the flying expert a prophecy. If we have a projector that dissolves metals on contact, the air peril ceases to he a reality at once. It is along these lines, quite seriously, scientific experts are now thinking if not actually working. At the moment the bombing plane seems to have upset the balance of defence and attack in overwhelming favour of the latter. But m human history, which has the constant habit of repeating itself, defence has always hitherto been eventually more than equal to attack. It might almost he regarded as a law of Nature, bo it may be that, within briefer time than now appears likely, science will have evolved an effective counter to the air peril. Obviously the wireless beam sug-

pests an inviting avenue of experiment. may yet get a projector that instantaneously disables over a huge range all mechanism in the air. MAUNDY THURSDAY. King Edward’s intention to attend the Maundy service at the Abbey on the Thursday before Good Friday is significant. It indicates more plainly than anything that has transpired since His" Majesty’s accession how sympathetically the King regards the underdogs of our social system, and how determined he is to neglect no opportunity that may occur of demonstrating that ' fact. Four years ago the late King George went with Queen Mary to the Abbey Maundy service, but that was the first occasion for over 200 years that a reigning sovereign had been present at this ancient and symbolic ceremony. At the Maundy service purses are handed to poor persons, each containing newly minted coins, one for each year of the sovereign’s life. As these Maundy coins are unmilled at the edges, and possess a considerable collector’s value, the largesse is actually much more valuable than its face token. In medieval days the Maundy ceremony included washing the feet of the beneficiaries. “Maundy” comes from the Latin “ mandatum,” indicating Christ’s command to His disciples after He washed their feet at the Last Supper. HAIG AND L.G. How far Mr Duff Cooper’s published extracts from Earl Haig’s diaries reveal the famous Field-Marshal as bigger or smaller than we thought him is a matter of opinion. Most people may conclude that Haig was a great Christian gentleman, but that he was a long way from being a Wellington or a Marlborough. To suggest Napoleonic comparisons would be absurd. As a defence against L.G.’s virulent Passchendaele criticisms the diary extracts are at best inconclusive. But if they fail to vindicate Haig’s military judgment they certainly torpedo L.G.’s reputation as the " man whose genius and courage secured unity of command on the western front. We find L.G., soon after Foch took charge, largely on L.G.’s initiative, sending letters to Haig which expressed the gravest anxiety and suspicion as to Fpch’s bona ficles. and cautioning the British commander not to allow the Generalissimo complete discretion in disposing of our divisions. There is no question of bias here. L.G.’s letter is quoted verbatim. UNDER ANOTHER NAME. The proudest corps in the British Army has been the Royal Horse Artillery. It boasts the most gorgeous of all British uniforms. It combines the elan of the cavalry with the drama of the Fire Brigade And Kipling has certified it as “ first among the women and amazing first in war.” But the doom of the R.H.A. is sealed. Even its ancient glamour will not escape the wave of mechanism. Two batteries of R.H.A., which will presumably now have to be renamed, will be drawn by motors instead of horses by the time the antmn Army mameuvres take place. This, for the old school of horse lovers, is the unkindest cut of all. But there is no dodging it. Not only will the galloping horses go. but the new motorised batteries will discard their 13pounder guns for new 3.7 in Howitzers. For the present the R.H.A. units in India, where they are not quite so keen on mechanisation, having a rougher country to manoeuvre in, will retain their equine glory, and so will the famous Sphinx, or F Battery at St. John’s Wood. But for how long? LORD LASCELLES. Lord Lascelles, elder son of the Princess Royal and the Earl of Harewood, is a happy young man to-day. He has just been informed that he has passed the exam, for entry to Eton. Thus he will follow in his father’s footsteps, and enter Eton in the summer term. He is strong on “maths,” but is good all round. Lord Lascelles is 13, and his brother, the Hon. Gerald Lascelles, will be 12 in August. He also is a candidate for Eton, and hopes to join his brother there early next year. Both hoys have been scholars at Ludgrove School, Cockfosters. Lord Lascelles inherits his father’s keen sense of humour. This was seen recently when in Yorkshire he was accosted by a tramp in a country road, and asked where “ free beer ” was distributed. Lord Lascelles, sensing the opportunity for some fun, directed the man to a motor garage not far distant. A little later he witnessed the tramp being unceremoniously ushered off the premises. The man did not get his free beer, but Lord Lascelles eased the temperamental setback by handing him a shilling out of his pocket money. ROWING BLUES. The annals of the Varsity boat race reveal a high percentage of both crews who later achieved much distinction in various walks of life. Names appear that were destined to be honoured in the church, the Law Courts, and in diplomacy. Only two rowing blues, however, have so far become Prime Ministers, neither of them holding that office in this country. The later and more familiar instance is Mr Stanley Bruce, of Australia, who rowed in the Cambridge boat of 1904, and coached the losing Cambridge boat of 1911. The earlier example was Mr W. H. Waddington, who was number six in one of the 1849 crews. His father was an English merchant residing in Paris, and after leaving the Varsity Mr Waddington became a naturalised French citizen. Thirty years after taking part in our boat race he was Premier of France, and in 1883 came back again to England as French Ambassador to the Court of St. James’s. There is no saying what future celebrity awaits some of the youthful athletes who will be rowing over the Putney-Mortlakc course on Saturday. OSCAR ASCHE. A multiple personality passed away by Oscar Asche’s death at the age of 05. This huge-built genial Australian, who had berserk Norse blood in his veins, had an unquenchable zest of life in all its phases. He took the stage in his stride, relishing its Bohemian adventure and artistic flair, just as be spent a fortune on farming in the West Country, and several more fortunes on backing his fancy in horses and dogs. He was well to do as the result of a lucky sequence of stage successes and Australian tours, in which his wife, delightful Lily Brayton, shared, before he wrote and produced ‘ Chu Chin Chow ’ at His Majesty’s, drawing a salary of £BO a week besides royalties on a record run of five years. He was lucky again here in that

the piece exactly furnished that mental anodyne everybody needed during the war years. His share of that goldmine was £200,000. Yet within a few years he was ‘ broke.” It was all a joyous part of the great zestful game of life for Oscar. His abiding hobby as an Aussie, of course, was cricket. He played a good game himself, was a member of I. Zingari, and batted for M.C.C. sides in minor matches. Curiously enough, when it came to test games with Australia, he was strongly pro-English in sympathies. After his weak heart had put him out of the active cricket arena, lie was a regular Lords fan. His versatile interests may have misled those very fallible judges, the dramatic critics, as to his true artistic worth. Like Lily Brayton, he served his stage apprenticeship with the Benson companies, the finest dramatic school we ever had, and his first stage triumph was as Ancient Pistol. He had the genius to lift relatively small roles into the first magnitude without distorting them. He wrote several successful plays besides ‘ Chu Chin Chou.’ ‘ The Maid of the Mountains ’ was his production. But bis Falstatf, some of his Pinero roles, and, above all, his Othello, were dramatic masterpieces. He was a great actor as well as a great bon viveur. MASTERPIECE. When a great artist concentrates his inspiration on painting a beautiful woman the world gains an immortal masterpiece. Such is the Ingres portrait of Madame Moitessier, acquired by the National Gallery for the amazingly modest sum of £14,000. The famous French painter, who was 87 when he died in 1867, spent years on the canvas, which is a brilliant work of portraiture, enshrining with deathless genius a lady divinely lovely and most divinely vital. The Ingres masterpiece radiates her rhythmic glamour of patrician beauty, feminine arrogance, and intellectual vitality. No picture in our great National Gallery will bold stronger fascination for visitors with a grain of either imagination or art feeling. It was bought from the family, four descendants having jointly inherited it. As one cannot divide up a masterpiece, it has been sold, under the terms of its inheritance, to no private purchaser but to a gallery. But the modest £14,000 purchase price disgruntles our stunt journals’ appetite for commercial sensation. After lingering over its beauty for an hour one comes away with one exultant feeling. This Ingres masterpiece is an immortal rebuke to those self-conscious and neurotic modernist groups who botch and bungle up artistic anarchy and ask us to believe it is the dernier cri of sheer Olympian genius. Here on this Ingres canvas are no frenzied smudges, no chaotic uncertainties, no palsied indeterminate edges. Not only the sitter’s incomparable face and figure are clearpainted and distinct, but her hands and arms are perfect. Ingres did not lose interest, nor the concentration of his genius slacken grip, even when he came to the painting of the lady’s flowered costume and the details of her attire. Ingres took five years o v er this work, and it was well worth it. When modern critics sneer at “ photographic ” portraiture, they should be gently led to Madame Moitessier’s picture. Then they will realise the difference between real genius and exhibitionist mediocrity in a hurry.