AN ELDER STATESMAN

Otago Daily Times, Issue 22790, 27 January 1936, Page 12

AN ELDER STATESMAN

SIR AUSTEN CHAMBERLAIN If Shakespeare had known Sir Austen Chamberlain he might have added a few words to his phrase: “ Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and others have greatness thrust upon them.” To Sir Austen Chamberlain all three definitions apply. He is the son of a famous father; he was ‘‘thrust’’ into high political positions without having to strive for them as most men do; he “achieved” even higher positions by his pleasant manners and general likeabiiity. And now, without ever having shown any brilliance, or even any particular cleverness, he is considered our principal Elder Statesman, whose words are listened to with attentive respect, writes H. A. Milton in Reynolds’s Newspaper. His book is a mirror of his personality. ■ Genial, good-tempered, undistinguished in style; commonplace in its judgments, it leaves an agreeable impression. It tells us nothing new, it goes over familiar ground in a lucid, interesting way, and sometimes adds to what has already become history details of an illuminating kind. Thus his account of the forcing of Asquith in 1914 to decide that Britain must join in the war shows up very clearly the weak-minded vacillation of ,the Liberal leader. He had allowed Grey to commit us to the support of France and the Tsar. We were engaged up to our necks —not by any written promise, but, as the French Ambassador Cambon put it, by “ plans prepared in common,” by “ consultations between general staffs,” by agreement as to disposition of ships. MISLEADING STATEMENT. It is a pity Sir Austen should repeat the misleading statement about the German invasion of Belgium being the cause of our entering the war. It “ made our duty plain,” he writes. The truth is that we had pledged ourselves—for the reason that war with Germany was regarded by so many of us as inevitable on account of trade rivalry. When the moment came for us to stand by them France and the Tsar looked to the British Government to announce its decision. Yet Asquith could not make up his mind to honour his unwritten promises. He had to be egged on by Tory leaders. And when he had declared war, he sat back and showed no initiative. “He never contributed a suggestion,” says Sir Austen. He preferred to “ wait and see ” what others proposed. Knowing this, and feeling the urgent need for a more energetic Prime Minister, Sir Austen and the other Conservatives in the 1916 Cabinet nevertheless did all they could to keep Asquith in that position. He describes their efforts without seeing even now that they were putting personal regard before national advantage. Politicians in England are always Inclined to do that. This is the result of their social relations. Parnell was right when he forbade his Irish followers to have anything to do with their opponents except in the House of Commons itself—not in the smoking room or the restaurant; and certainly not in their homes. A FAILURE. Fortunately the attempt to patch up a settlement between Asquith and Lloyd George failed. The “ sentimental Welshman,” as Sir Austen calls him, could not dissemble his disgust at Asquith’s lethargy. It is to his credit that he could not go on working with a man he despised. But, if he “ saved the country,” lie did it rather in spite of than with the aid of Tory chiefs. Sir Austen is oddly frank in other matters as well as this. He says that he was inclined to refuse the Chancellorship of the Exchequer in 1919 because lie could not have No. II Downing street to live in. This house is the Chancellor’s official residence, but Mr Bonar Law bad it and was determined to keep it. The two men quarrelled. “We both lost our tempers.” Living in Downing street was, Sir Austen felt, the “ one amenity which lent any attraction to the office of Chancellor.” He did not get it. Ho took the job without it. No doubt there are many who still think of politicians desiring office in order to serve their country and all that. Sir Austen makes no pretence of any motive of this kind —for himself or anybody else. Even John Morley, who was believed to lie so stern a Radical, “ cared curiously for the outward show and trappings of power.” When it was proposed that, on being made a peer, he should take the office of Lord Privy Seal, he refused. He must be Lord President of the Council, he insisted. Neither office had any duties attached to it, but the L.P.C. took precedence of the L.P.S. Could anything be more comically foolish.”