PASSING NOTES.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 20586, 8 December 1928, Page 6

PASSING NOTES.

Though divided by seas and mountains from the London crowds that day and night beset the palace where the King lies perilously ill, we are identically one with them in feeling. Lord l Birkenhead may be wrong—l don’t think him Quite right—in saying'that "it is the one link of the Crown which alone can hold together the self-governing communities.’’ Irrespective of the Crown ap its central authority, the Empire is a commonwealth of free nations, each at liberty to go or stay at will, but each with obvious motives to stay, and with no motive at all to depart. Union is strength, and strength is security. Self-interest alone —a poor consideration—should hold the Empire together. To Lord Birkenhead’s way of putting it, I prefer that of Mr Clynes, a Labour leader:

The scenes outside the Palace express the solidarity and' dignity of the national character, and are the truest

tribute to one of the world’s most

correct and responsible rulers. The personal attributes of the monarchy, so easily and so unconsciously taken for granted, are realised at a time of crisis, and mean very much to everyone, regardless of party, policy, or , class's. ... . The might, majesty, and dominion of the British people through a. thousand years of storm and shine, centre in the King, and wc, on the outermost fringe of the Empire, have our part in it all through our part in the King, who, we rejoice to know, is worthy of the love we bear him. The emotion common to the Empire at this crisis, the affection felt in common, are near to “ the touch of Nature that makes the whole world kin.”

The classical example of a triangular duel, as we often remind ourselves, is in “Midshipman Easy,’’ where the midshipman fires the boatswain, the boatswain fires at the purser’s steward, and the purser’s steward fires at the midshipman, completing the triangle,—“ shot for shot, and no favours,” as the boatswain remarks (with a hole blown through both cheeks), and thinks it fair. But the triangular duel now being, staged in Wellington will not be on this plan. Politics are a world apart.’ In Wellington two of the duellists have combined for the discomfiture of the third—Ward and Holland against Coates. This is what the country expected, anti thus it happened. Spoils to the victors !■ —but how to divide them? Ay, there’s the rub. Will Ward take nil? Is Holland to have ‘nothing? Apparently yes. The new Ministry will be Wardite to a man. And so it may come about that later, somewhat later, wc shall have the triangular duel with a change of • parts. If Mr Contes and Mr Holland are found in the same lobby on a “ No-confidence ” division, ftdtuin cst de Balbo—all. up with Sir Joseph. To stave off this catastrophe the unemployed—butcher, baker, and candlestick-maker—are ft) be set a-going with pick 'and shovel at union rates of pay. 'Labour will swallow this sop to Cerberus, but with Oliver Twist will ask for more. And be in a position to get it.

From Invercurgill, Sir Joseph Ward's constituency: maunderings on the election result:— Dear was reared in the John Morley school of radicalism yet at every election now I feel more inclined to question the wisdom of manhood and womanhood suffrage. At 21 I was a keen politician and as well versed on the questions of the hour as I am to-day, but I would like to put it to you what percentage of the young men ancl young women of Invercargill had any real conception or grasp of the issues they were called to vote on at the recent election? It is pitiful but true that your average young,man may know all about the Charleston, racing, and football, and your "flapper's" main ajnbition seems td be to excel her friends in short skirta. silk stockings, and the Eton crop, but of the affairs of the nation, like the immortal Sam Weller, their "vision is limited." Still in these days of ultra-democracy they have the same Voting power as you apd I. They have; and so have the hooligans of maturer age whose best contribution to a political discussion is caterwauling. Thus, at election meetings in South Australia and Victoria, Mr Bruce, Prime Minister of the Commonwealth, failed to get a hearing, was howled down and " counted 'out" Parallels could be cited in .New Zealand. In -elative vintelligence the short-skirted and Eton-cropped "flapper" leaves this type of bearded hoodlum leagues behind. And yet the bearded hoodlum has a vote.

Too late for election use, this correspondent sends me in rhyme a political prayer. Perhaps Mr Speaker, when conducting the devotions of the House, might fiiid a place for it: — God give us men! A time like this demands Strong minds, great hearts, true faith, and ready hands; Men whom the lust of office does not kill; Men whom the spoils of office cannot buy; Men who possess an opinion and a will: Men who have honour, men who will not lie: Men who can Btand before a demagogue. And damn his treacherous flatteries without winking; Tall men, sun-crowned, who live above the fog In public duty and in private thinking. Quite good—a paraphrase or echo of an earlier poet. Ah, God, for a man with heart, head, hand, Like some of the simple great ones gone For ever and ever by, One still strong man in a blatant land. Whatever they call him, what care I, Aristocrat, democrat, autocrat—one Who can rule and dare not lie. Then he appends a screed of verses consigning Sir Joseph Ward to the nethermost Pit, each verse having as refrain an imprecation unproduceable here. Why this waste of breath? If Sir Joseph puts his name to I 0 U's for millions, thanking heaven with Micawber that " that's off his mind"; if he lends to " needy farmers" at a lower rate of interest than the rate at which he borrows; if in short he conducts -the business of this country on the principle "Buy at a shilling, sell'at nine pence"; we have no one to thank but ourselves. " Vons l'avez voulu, George r>andin' "

“Not a Jacobite” asks how i make it out that our Hanoverian line of kings is in lineal descent from Mary Queen of Scots, as was said in this column last week. I infer that history on its genealogy side is not taught in the schools. Perhaps there is no reason why it should be. There are always hooks—whole libraries with open doors. Failing aptness in the use of books, there is always the “ Inquire Within ” department of the daily paper. The Hanoverian line begins with George I, whose mother was the granddaughter of James I, son of Mary Queen of Scots and Darn ley. That is the story in a nutshell. The Stuarts came in with James I, who was already Janies VI of Scotland, yet heir to the English throne because grandson of Margaret Tudor, sister of Henry VIII; and so on the death of Queen Elizabeth without ssue James succeeded. I hope I have got it right! Hanoverian George’s right and title to a Stuart inheritance came down to him on the distaff idc; and James Stuart’s right and title to a Tudrr inheritance came town to him on the distaff side. The cases seem equal. I myself am a Jacobite of sorts, keenly resenting even at this distant date the trial, condemnation, and execution of Charles I. It was a brutal travesty of justice and right, met with royal equanimity. On the morning of his death Charles “ trimmed himself for his second wedding day,” he said, and so went to the scaffold. By acknowledgment of

the chief Puritan rhymester, Andrew Marvell, He nothing common' did, or mean, Upon that memorable scene. Charles the Martyr we, may call him.

The conjunction of the names “ Hallam ” and “ Tennyson ” in the cables is a challenge to memory; at once every .journalist is reminiscent. Hallam Lord Tennyson, whose death is reported, was named after hia father’s nearest and dearest friend, Arthur Henry Hallam. It was a short-lived friendship, dating from their student days at Cambridge but broken by Hal-Ih-i.i’s death at the age of 22. Dean Alford writes of him: “Hallam was a man of wonderful mind and knowledge or all subjects hardly credible at his age. . . I long ago set him down for the most wonderful person 1 ever knew. 1 ’ Mi Gladstone speaks of him in terms that sound hardly less extravagant. Finally we have Hallam enslmned for ever in classic poetry. There are three great elegiac poems in our literature, Milton’s “ Lycidas,” Shelley’s “Adonais,” and Tennyson’s “ In Memoriam.” Were it not that comparisons are odious I should say that the last of the three is the greatest. Certainly it is Tennyson’s masterpiece, and a monument to Hallam more enduring than brass. “In Memoriam ”is a deeply religious poem, and by some readers neglected as they would neglect a sermon. This is the note on which it begins;—

hrong Son of Goa, immortal Love, , Whom we that have not seen thy face By faith, and faith alone, embrace, Believing where we cannot prove;

Thine are these orbs of light and shade: Thou madest Life in man and brute; Thou madest Death ; and 10, thy foot Is on th - ’ skull which thou hast made.

Thou wilt not leave us In the dust; . Thou madest man, he knows not why; He thinks he was not made to die; And thou hast made him: thou art lust. After more than a hundred fascicles of verse ifi this unusual stanza that never wearies the poem ends with a confession of faith In Cod, which ever lives and loves, One God, one law, one element. And one far-off divine event. To which the whole creation moves

Published anonymously in 18130, "In Memoriam" had a dubious, reception. Its authorship was a guess. One early critic surmised that it might be " a widow's tribute of affection to her hus* band, apparently a naval officer deceased." Here bo it noted that Tennyson had nothing to live upon but his literary earnings, and was for ycarg in the direst penury. Of his meeting with the lady who became his wife we read: "Emily Schvood was seventeen and Alfred Tennyson twenty when he met her v walking, in a leafy glade dressed modeßtly in grey, and addressed her: 'Are you a Dryad or an Oread wandering here?'" Unsuspected, the laureateship and a peerage were in reserves but "it was twenty long years before thev could marry." Carlyle's portrait .of him midway in this weary probation ia impressive:— One of the finest-looking men jn the world. A, great shock of rough, dusty dark hair; mausive aquilLo face, most massive yet most delicate; of sallow brown complexion, almost Indian-looking; clothes cynically loose, free and easy; smokes infinite tobacco. His voice is musical, metallic, fit for loud laughter and piercing wait, and all that may lie between; speech and speculation free and plenteous; I do not meet in theec , late decades such company over a pipe. A pipe,—nine hours a day would a pipe be in his mouth. And here comes a detail to make Pussyfoot shuddor,—-at The Cook tavern in Fleet street he would sit with his pipe over a pint of port. 0 plump bead-waiter at The Cock, ',' To which I most ■ resort, How goes the time? "Tie five o'clock, ■ Go fetch a pint of port. : Perhaps after a modest dinner with a literary acquaintance, Spe'dding or another, sitting opposite—" two chops and a pickle, two cheeses and a pint of stout," followed by the generous grape: Head-waiter o£ the chop-house here To which I most resort We now must part; I hold thee dear For this good pin. of port. For this, thou shalt from all things suck Marrow of mirth and laughter;. And wherodoe'or thou move, good luck aall fling her old shoe after. Yet Tennyson lived to an advanced age and his swan-song, ■« Crossing the Bar/ is an evangelical classic. Cms.