LONDON TOPICS

Lake Wakatip Mail, Issue 4325, 3 August 1937, Page 7

LONDON TOPICS

MR HOTWEATHER'S TRIUMPH high finance mystery July 1. It is a personal triumph for M. Camille Chautemps that he is once more, and at a most critical juncture Premier of the trench Republic. He has twice had brief post-war spells m that office, and on the last occasion was hounded out by popular hysteria aroused by the .Stavisky . scanda . Abominable accusations, all since con clusively disproved, were freely made aaainst him, and he was suspected ot instigating the murder of Judge 1 nnce. who is now generally believed to have committed suicide. As an astute and diplomatic negotiator M. Chautemps s reputation resembles that once esta • lished by our L.G., and, like that statesman, he is a virile radical. H advent seems to indicate that popular sentiment in France may be moving slmhtlv awav from the Popular Front, or'else that the latter is taking a more Centre orientation. M. Chautemps has parted brass rags, as they say m the Navy, with the Communists.

queer. There is undoubtedly strong feeling even amongst churchmen that some curb should be placed on the extraecclesiastical activities of the Dean o Canterbury. Unfortunately, as he has made quite plain, the Archbishop of Canterbury has no power to intervene, his disciplinary discretion extending only to the Dean’s purely ecclesiastical actions. The Dean has told us that he finds the Red regime in Spam » nearer to Christ ” than anything he lias hitherto seen in this troubled world. Curiously enough, just about that time a well-known American Communist published a book on his personal experiences in Russia, where he went deliberately, in the belief it was a proletarian arcadia, some years ago. His account of Moscow’s methods, and then results, of the miseries endured by the under-dogs, the ceaseless espionage on private life, and the atrocious privileges exercised over any attractive woman bv the commissars, makes a queer commentary on the Doan of Canterbury s views. “The Dean does rather rush in where archangels might fear to tread.

TWENTY YEARS AFTER. I doubt whether in all its long history London has ever seen such a display of medals as last Sunday, when King George held the great ex-sen ice review in Hyde Park. Thinking over that memorable evqnt one is impressed, first of all, by the quiet dignity of it Eighty thousand middle-aged and eltferly civilians, in all sorts of bats and suits, do not strike the imagination as promising material for a public parade But the demeanour of these veterans saved the situation, and even imparted to it a certain solemnity. Their movements testified amazingly, after all these years, to the abiding influence of the Army drill sergeants. They never looked the least like a mob. And I think King George, like Harry V of Agincourt. must have found _ a noble lustre ” in their eyes, becoming to the dogged khaki legions who hem the line and broke the Kaiser. They were, though no longer of their active service silhouette, a stoutly-built company far from C 3 in physique, and it was''good to overhear the babel of varying local accents. I met several genuine Old Bills in Hyde Paik.

TOO MUCH GOLD. Among those who are uninitiated in the mysteries of high finance, the announcement made by the Chancellor of the Exchequer appears to have been the cause of a good deal ot misunderstanding. ihe decision to increase the resources of the exchange equalisation account by an additional £2LKJ,UUO,UOO is no sort of an indication that this fund has become impoverished. So tar from having suffered losses, Mr Chamberlain, during his Budget speech in \pril gave an assurance that the account still continued to show a profit, and there is no cause to imagine that it has been operated so inexpertly durum the past two months as to have reversed that position. The real trouble is that, with the now of foreign capital to London, the tendency of the fund is to become solidified in the form of void. So long as the fund has to be used for the purpose of keeping the £ down to a desired economic level, it is sterling, and not gold, that is .required by its operators. It may, therefore, be assumed that it is to augment its supplies of sterling that the borrowing powers of the account are being increased.

WHOLE BATTALIONS. The grand fly-past at Hendon by 250 planes, in close six-column formation, was certainly impressive. Yet the roar of all those engines did not quite, to my ears at all events, have the intimidating thunder, as of cohorts of cavalry 7 galloping over hollow bronze, that one Schneider Cup racer had during the last contest round the isle of Might. Tiie sound of a few hundred macnmes, however, all out above London would probably, if they were enemy ones, create a widespread panic. What the noise, and the effect, would be like, if they all dropped a load of largesize high explosive bombs, even the imagination is baffled to picture. Tet the experts seem to incline to the view that, if there is another European war, mass air raids will be the rule rather than the exception. it is probable, according to this theory, that such attacks will be on a bigger scale even than Hendon’s massed squadrons last week-end.

SAILORS DON'T CARE. So far from being intimidated by the much-discussed new air threat to battleships, the Royal Navy’s faith in those formidable sea monsters remains unshaken. The belief in naval circles is that the post-war battleship and cruiser are adequately protected, not only against air bombs, but also against submarine torpedoes. This faith is not based on mere nautical optimism, but on realistic facts. Bilge keels and anti-aircraft batteries have changed the whole situation, and so has the latest deck and turret armouring. Curiously enough the one possibility of trouble contemplated by naval men is one which outsiders might never have thought about. This is the risk of intensive machine-gun fire from the air putting a ship’s fighting control out

of commission. It was found in the war that fighting a ship from any other position than the open bridge is almost impossible as an effective performance. But no doubt means will be found to meet the aerial machine gun’s threat, which recalls the topyard snipers ol Nelson’s time.

SIR ERIC GEDDES. Fate has unkindly removed Sir Eric Geddes just before he might have seen his great ambition of an Atlantic air service inaugurated. It is hard to picture this heavily-built hard-headed business man, whom Margot once christened “ the Beef Trust,” as an adventurous and romantic youth, yet so it was. The schoolboy escapades entailed experience of six different academies, not through viciousness, but just from sheer joie de vivre, and, when he sailed for America, rejecting the fatted domestic calf for the husks of adventure oversea, he spent the paternal cheque intended to pay his return passage, if he repented of his quest, on some fair American. With the result that for a year or two he lived hard, and on the borderline of bare subsistence. He is one of the few non royal personages who held the rank of general and admiral at the same time. This, of course, was during the war, when he had control of railways in France and shipping at home. His greatest fame rests perhaps on a frustrated enterprise—the historic “ Geddes Axe.”

ADMIRAL SIR WILLIAM FISHER. Admiral Sir William Fisher, com-mander-in-chief at Portsmouth since last year, has died at the age of 62. He commanded H M.S. St. Vincent at Jutland, was one of Earl Jellicoe’s special quarterdeck cronies, and later placed a big part in planning our reply to Germany’s U-boat frightfulness. When the Duke of Windsor embarked on a destroyer for lands of exile, Sir William had the duty of bidding him adieu. He was probably the tallest Admiral in the R.N. His breezy mannei and sporting spirit endeared him to the lower deck people, who delighted to see him start his day, when his tlag was hoisted in command of the Mediterranean Fleet, by sculling a ship’s boat round his battleship and finally swimming round her. He was in charge when the ItalianAbyssinian affair made that post a rather anxious one, and could have told some very interesting facts about what happened behind the scenes then. He has not been well for some weeks. At a recent naval parade he was forced to sit down when taking the salute.

GHOSTS ON THE GREEN. There has been as most people must be aware, a remarkable boom in psychics and spiritualism since the war. Presumably the situation created by the sudden passing over of so many loved ones has stimulated the very human desire to believe, even against all preconceived notions, that it may be possible to establish touch with those behind the veil In London the Spiritualist movement is particularly strong, /and is causing some _ anxiety to many religious denominations. There is scarcely a _ suburb, rich or poor, but has its “ circle,” and sometimes its recognised “ chapel,” too. But the very latest move is the formation of a Spiritualist Golf Circle, which j opens up entirely new possibilities in the royal and ancent game. We have heard" of wigs on the green. Now there will be ghosts on the fairway. 1 refrain from attempting any obvious comments on the probability of members of the Spiritualist Golf Circle playing down to Colonel Bogey!

ONLY A RECENT CONVERT. Earl Baldwin’s pipe played such an important part in building up the exPrime Minister’s remarkable popularity that it is rather ,a blow to hear he is a comparatively recent convert. That homely cherrywood and that wellseasoned old briar did more for Mr Baldwin with the man in the street than Mr Gladstone’s once celebrated collars did for the illustrious Victorian statesman. It was his sceptre of popular appeal. On the comforting intimacy of it the public took its ownex lo their hearts. But until the war, at which time Mr Baldwin was past middle age, he had been a confirmed cigar smoker. In this respect he rivalled Lord Lonsdale, Mr Churchill, and the first Lord Birkenhead. Mr Baldwin renounced cigars as an unjustifiable wartime extravagance, and found that he liked a pipe far better. Thus in more ways than one virtue was its own reward. But. from the standpoint of contemporary veterans, Earl Baldwin’s pipe is really a parvenue.

HISTORIC BIBLE RELIC. An appeal is being made by the Friends of the National Libraries, to which are appended the signatures of Cosmo Cantuar, William Ebor, Herbert Dunelm, and other distinguished people, for funds to buy a manuscript of thrilling interest. Bede records that Ceolfrid, abbot of the twin monasteries of Wearmouth and J arrow at the beginning of the eighth century, had three copies of the Latin Bible in the Vulgate version written. He presented oiie to Wearmouth. one to J arrow, and the third to Pope Gregory 11. in 716. The latter, the best of all extant Latin Vulgates, is in the Laureiitian Library at Florence. The Wearmouth and Jarrow manuscripts seemed to have disappeared, but in 1909 a single leaf was found by Ur W. Greenwell in an old curiosity shop in Newcastle. This was presented to the British Museum. Eleven more leaves have now been found, and it is these that it is now desired to purchase for the nation. The leaves are consecutive from the text of the First Kings, and are a monument of the time when British scholarship held the foremost place in Europe, when Caedmon of Whitby was beginning English literature and Aldhelm of Sherborne was making the first Psalter translation into English.

SUBTERFUGE. I spotted an amusing instance of the wisdom shown by the Rose Day organisers in picking the prettiest girls they can got as sellers. At one pitch in the heart of West End clubdom a particularly lovely blonde, with an attractive figure displayed to advantage by a most cunning costume, was busy selling buttonholes. 1 was held up in conversation with a friend whom I chanced to meet, and I watched a pretty little street comedy. If t saw one L saw a dozen eligible young clubmen as they sauntered towards this lady pause, carefully study form, and then with a rapid furtive movement remove the Alexandra roses already in their coats, usually

by stowing them away, in their pockets. Then they self-consciously approached the blonde goddess, stopped to make another charitable purchase, and by all sorts of tricks and artifices endeavoured to make the transaction a lingering one. She must have done amazingly well with her collecting box.

CARD SHARPERS. Halfway to Kempton Park on Saturday my carriage was invaded by card sharpers. There were the usual four confederates, all ostentatiously behaving as complete strangers. The chief actor, after bemoaning the fact that the train was late and he would be behind with his “ book,” produced the inevitable three cards. This time it was not a case of “ find the lady, - ” the card to be picked being the king of diamonds. He manipulated the cards on a newspaper across his knees, and one confederate tried his luck, but “ lost ” a pound. Then each of the two others bet a fiver and “ won.” At this a nice elderly gentleman in the corner, who looked like a modern edition of Mr Pickwick, could contain himself no longer. He had noticed that one corner of the king of diamonds was slightly turned up. This is, of course, part of the trick. It is done to catch greenhorns, who rush in to win easy money, only to find to their bewilderment" that there must be two cards with dog-eared corners. Beaming with excitement through his spectacles, the elderly gentleman addressed the hard-faced trickster. . “ 1 don’t like this sort of thing,” he exclaimed, “ but 1 cannot sit still and see you cheat yourself. Look more carefully at that card. You will see something. You are throwing your money away.” “I’ve lots of money, governor,” replied the fellow; “ ’ave a go yourself. Back yourself for a fiver.” “It would serve you right if I did,” said the moralist, “ but I refuse to take advantage of anybody in such a way. I tell you you are cheating yourself. ' Just look at that card. 1 could pick it every time easily. So could anybody.” I do not know what might have happened if the train had not reached Kempton Park just then. The three-cardsters got out there. But I shall not readily forget the face of the manipulator of the King of Diamonds when that nice elderly gentleman so earnestly assured him he was cheating himself.

STEVE. I had a talk with Steve Donoghue this morning. We were in the vapour room of a Turkish bath, and three times Steve was called to the telephone to say whether or not he would be able to ride certain horses in forthcoming races. I congratulated him on his successful season, and asked whether it was a fact that he intends to make it his last one. He told me that it was a neck-and-neck affair. He had not yet made up his mind definitely, though he realised the risk of going on too long, and would like to end on a good season like the present one. Much would depend, he told me, on what Sir Victor Sassoon, \yho is at present in China, might advise. Sir Victor and other owners have promised Steve that when he does retire and sets up as a trainer, he shall have all or some of their horses to look after. 1 marvelled at Steve’s physical condition. A Turkish bath allows no camouflage, and Steve in his birthday suit honestly might be taken, at 52, for a well-conditioned man in the thirties.

TOTE’S PROGRESS. At Harringay Stadium on Saturday what is known as the Greyhound Derby was run. It was at Harringay about five or six years ago that the first tote betting machine was instituted for dog racing. It is interesting to compare that equipment with the latest. The Harringay tote had six issuing machines and could handle £BOO a night. The tote “ unveiled ” last week at the White City, which is said to be the largest in the world, even including the one at Longchamps, has 640 ticket-issuing machines, and can deal with £B,OOO per minute. At full capacity it absorbs 450 miles of ticket paper per meeting. These figures are impressive, and convey 7 some notion of the immense developments that have taken place within a short time in connection with dog racing. For the proletariat the latter is rapidly becoming a strong challenger to horse racing for betting purposes. Yet the bookmakers who confine themselves to horse racing are not complaining. * What they have lost on the dogs they have more than recouped on the feminine punter.