PASSING NOTES

Otago Daily Times, Issue 25364, 23 October 1943, Page 3

PASSING NOTES

Generally, in democratic countries, a parliamentary election is regarded a necessary nuisance, and in war-time is condemned as untimely and unseemly. But in other lands it may be a source of inspiration and the subject of unstinted eulogy. The South African elections of July last drew from a Fascist, Phalangist, or at any rate Francist paper in Madrid a remarkable trbiute to the unity and solidarity of the British Empire. It said:

The fact that it was possible to hold an election in the middle of a war without the least disturbance is in itself an indication of the civic sense which the Anglo-Saxons have known liow to inculcuate wherever they have gone. Actuated solely by the idea of individual freedom and respect for the human person, the British Empire sets an example to the nations, and constitutes a guarantee that neither disorder nor tyranny shall ever master the world.

That is, to put it more bluntly, in the British Empire the ballot has superseded the bullet. Other impressive factors in the SA. elections might have greatly enhanced the tribute of the Madrid paper. For Smuts who won it is an ex-enemy, the platform for which he fought it was a 100 per cent, co-operation in a British Empire war, and the sweeping majority he secured was swelled by masses of racially nonBritish electors.

Suddenly emerging from retirement to publicity, from a Rip van Winkle obscurity to front-page news, Count Sforza has landed in Italy from New York “in the baggage train of the Allies.” As leader of the Free Italian movement in America, he seems destined to become the first Italian postFascist Premier. Twenty years ago Sforza was a leading figure in European diplomacy, being Italian Minister to Serbia during the last war, and High Commissioner to Turkey at the Armistice of 1918. He had no part in the tragi-comedy of Versailles, but was close behind the scenes, representing Italy at subsequent conferences. He was Italian Ambassador in Paris when Mussolini’s coup d’etdt ended his official career. He then withdrew to private life, mostly in exile; and like other such men in like circumstances, he wrote his memoirs. His portraitgallery of war-time personalities is large and varied, including Lloyd George, Curzon, Briand, Foch, Poincare, Mussolini, Trotsky, and Stalin. Of dictators naturally he has little good to say, and of Mussolini still less. He writes with wisdom before the event:

Dictators always end in disaster, being obliged to seek a policy of glory and vain prestige to compensate for the' loss of liberty, drugging with the intoxication of military success. Mussolini came to power convinced that all the problems he had so glibly decided in his presseditorials could be easily solved. When he realised the truth about things and about himself he was already a slave to a self-created myth.

Sforza’s pen-portrait of Lord Curzon adds a detail to a strange psychological study:

During the Paris conversations on the peace between Italy and Turkey, Premier Poincare’s manner was some-

times very stiff and his argumentation even cruel. ... At the first pause in the proceedings Lord Curzon came out and walked up and down with me. Suddenly he burst out sobbing. “Do you not think it terrible,” he said to me. “ that I should be treated in this manner? Never in my life have I had to endure such speeches.” And, pulling from the depths of his frock coat a silver hip-fiask, he swallowed an

invigorating mouthful of brandy. Evidently the French Premier’s aggressiveness had cracked the shell of Curzon’s pomposity. For his aristocratic hauteur was proverbial. His fellow-students at Oxford had rhymed on it: “I’m George Nathaniel Curzon, a very superior person.” He had been Viceroy of India till he clashed with Kitchener. Later he became Leader of the Commons under Lloyd George and one of the four members of the British Supreme War Council. Yet, with all this training in world affairs, he had “the gift of easy tears.” To Count Sforza’s anecdote might be added others of like import. When Lawrence of Arabia bearded the War Council to protest against its lack of co-operation with his Arab undertakings, he spoke so straight that he reduced Curzon to tears. It was Chicherin, Soviet delegate at the first disarmament conference at Geneva, who reduced the “ superior Curzon ” again to tears with the retort, “ My ancestors were princes long before yours had emerged from obscurity.”

New Zealand political happenings have for the moment sunk to mere caucuses. One has been sitting during the week, hatching something—behind locked doors, too, so that not even the inquisitive press may gate-crash in search for entertainment. And hushhush is the order of the day. For what reason has the word “ caucus,” sounding like a raven’s croak, come to be used for a mere unreported meeting of friends? For what _ reason, apart from its sound, is it still redolent of something sinister? English newspapers, from 1878, have sometimes used it opprobriously as “a secret committee charged with a design to rig an election.” The odour of this somehow has stuck. Its origin no one seems to know. It arose in Boston as early as 1753, for a private diary of that year reports “the meeting of the Caucus Club in Tom Dawe’s yard.” “ Caucus ” sounds like “caulkers” —and, in fact, this has been suggested as its derivation. A valiant guess—for a band of “caulkers” presupposes some 'leaking seams to caulk. Another suggested origin is the American Indian Algonkin word “ cau-cau-asu,” meaning one who advises, encourages. Perhaps. Etymologists frankly mark their suggestion with a mark of interrogation—as if to say, “ Can you offer a better? ” From South Otago: Dear " Civis.” In your Notes on Saturday you mention “ King Robert ‘ the' Brilce.” Why “ the ” Bruce? Which brings to my mind what has often puzzled me in New Zealand, viz., people often (in fact, generally) say down here that they are going to “ the Clutha,” meaning Balelulha. Other districts are also spoken of similarly, thus “ The Waikato.” “ The Taieri,” and others. So far as “ the Bruce ” is concerned, there may be a simple explanation—as, for instance, the names of Lisle, Lyell, Lyall all come from Robert l’lsle, or Robert the Islander, who came from Jersey wit'h William I. I didn’t know him personally, of course, but I did many years ago have to copy the,genealogical tree of a man named Lyell, and he started with his ancestor who came over with the Conqueror. But I often wonder why ” the ” is placed before the name of a district.— I am, etc., P.

The explanation of “the” in “The Bruce,” “The Mortimer” is simpleaccording to the Oxford Dictionary. “The” is here a Middle English corruption of the French “de,” indicating the place of origin. Robert de Bruce (Bruis, Brueys. Brieux) became Robert the Bruce—as if mediaeval Scots had no patience with French falderals. Different from this, of course, is the “the” which forms part of the surname of some Irish and Scottish chiefs of clans, as “the O’Gorman Mahon.” “the McNab." This may have some similarity of meaning (why not?) with the Latin use of “ illc “ ille Jupiter ” (that great Jupiter). “ ilia Medea ” (the celebrated Medea), modernised in the French “la Melba,” “la Patti” for Madame Melba. Madame Patti. The .use of “the" before names of New Zealand districts (mentioned by this correspondent) is surely reminiscent of the stream or river by which the locality was known before general settlement began. The Taieri Plain was then called comprehensively “The Taieri.” So with The Clutha, The Cardrona. The Waikato. If the use of “the” has overflowed its appointed banks and has attached itself to districts where no river is or has been, such things often happen in names. Civis.