PERSONAL NOTE

Southland Times, Issue 20794, 7 June 1929, Page 7

PERSONAL NOTE

NEW PRIME MINISTER

RAMSAY MACDONALD'S

' CAREER

RISE FROM DIRE POVERTY Who is the most interesting man to-day in Empire politics? James Ramsay Macdonald. What is the personality, the human side, of the Prime Minister of Great Britain? asks an Australian writer. His name has been in our mouths for many years, the spokesman of the inchoate mass known as Labour. Few of us, however, know anything of him but his name and his official propaganda for the class he represents—if, indeed, an intellectual represents the mass of the workers. To know a public man we must meet him off the platform; we must get to know his personality. Luckily a book has just been published that introduces us to this remarkable man. Here is what the author says of Mr Macdonald, the man: He cah and does move thousands by his words. As a speaker he is an artist, not an amateur. He has a baritone voice of rare beauty with notes in it as moving as those of a violincello and an unusual ranee of colour in its inflections. He can make it. crack like a pistol; he can make it sing. Even when he is doing nothing particular with it, it makes music. He moves on the platform with complete freedom, an easy expressive grace. But the .substance and structure of his speaking are not emotional. His variety and vitality make him exceptionally difficult to report, as does the closeness of the logical texture. He addresses himself to the heads of his hearers rather than to their hearts; he wants to make them think rather than to make them shout.

His Good Looks. His eyes are brown, like water, not like beads, with a great deal of light in them. His mouth is hidden by his moustache. It is a powerful head. Power rather than sympathy or insight, is what the face suggests if, for the moment, the aesthetic appeal is left. out. But it is there, and important. Mr Macdonald started life with good looks. He was said to have been the handsomest man in the 19(Mi Parliament. His jaw is athletic in its cleanness. The whole face, indeed, is athletic, not ascetic. It is a face that has weathered storms and has kept straight on. In his make-up Scotland is vitally significant. He says “wurrld,” and pronounces “thought” “thote.” He was born in dire poverty. His grandmother's cottage was poor in the extreme, but she herself was a remarkable woman. Her talk was as good as a library. As soon as the little lad could read he searched out all the books the place afforded. In school he was easily first. From his work in the fields the dominie brought him back as a pupil teacher. The Call of London. London called him at the age of 20, dreaming of a university career. He walked the streets, an Ishmael, until he got a job as a clerk in a city warehouse, for 12/6 a week, spending his nights at evening classes. He passed South Kensington examinations in science—and then his health broke down. His scientific passion persisted, but his personality got him a position as private secretary to a politician. “Now I have attained to fortune,” he wrote, on his salary of .£75 a year. He began to find his feet in journalism. The rest of his story is incessant work In the House, in debate, in defence, in attack, he is the equal of any man, and superior to most. Still, he is a mystery. He is shy, and few have found him intimate. He has three times as much vitality as most people. No degree of heat would induce him to remove his coat in the House or to appear on the front bench in a flannel collar, except on a Friday. Simple to austerity in his personal tastes and habits, luxury makes no sort of appeal to him except the appeal of beauty. For the whole money standard he has a sincere contempt. He. plays golf, and was turned out of a golf chib. There are wonderful stories of Scots nights at Independent Labour Party conferences, and of speeches from him in the most rollicking vein. The Books he Reads. He is an extraordinarily busy man. He rises early. He reads in the tube that takes him down to Westminster, and coming home at night. For years, walking has been his chief recreation. Whether in the country or in London, there is always a book in his pocket. Book shelves line his home. He has a secret hankering after nice editions. He loves his children, and is always reading aloud to them. There is not much he doesn’t know of Scottish lore. Second-hand booksellers draw him like magnets On his study walls there are more portraits of Cromwell than the visitor ever knew existed. He reads French, though he cannot speak it. John Morley has been one of the big influences in his life. They are great friends. His library is well represented on the scientific side,; and he loves maps and guide books. No modern novels. Ordinarily, he is a heavy smoker During elections he knocks off altogether. His world, like that of most men of commanding personal gifts, is ego-centric. He cannot really conceive of the play without himself in a principal role. It is not that he asserts himself; he is unconscious of the others. He is “all there”; but could he give himself away ? . That is the summing up of Ramsay Macdonald by a biographer who has studied him closely from an obviously friendly attitude. He is an intellectual and practical man; he knows his job and how to hold it; he is no theorist; he believes in ideas and ideals; and his friends are confident that there, is little likelihood of this shy but practical Scot ever running amuck.