A Letter from London

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume LXXXIII, Issue 19973, 17 October 1927, Page 11

A Letter from London

Special Correspondent. All Rights Reserved.

LONDON, Sept. 1. Socialist Policy-Making. I hear that the Socialist Parliamentary leaders arc somewhat embarrassed by a proposal that the forthcoming party conference should undertake the drafting of a detailed policy .for submission to the country at the next general election. Air Ramsay MacDonald and his colleagues tried their hands at the task some time ago, and judging by their own experience they shudder at what may happen if it is entrusted to a large conference at which, as usual, the extremists will be largely represented. The party will inevitably be committed to a large number of wild-cat schemes which the responsible spokesmen could neither defend on the platform nor carry out if they secured office. They would much prefer to trust to general declarations, though they can hardly hope to emulate Sir Henry CampbellBannerman ’s feat when he came in with a record majority of 1906. On that occasion the only thing to which he was specifically committed was an inquiry into the state of our canals. The inquiry was duly held, but it may be remarked incidentally that nothing has happened as the result. Lord Cecil’s Future.

Speculations as to Lord Cecil ’s political future, now he has resigned from the Cabinet, have little solid basis. At one time the Liberals believed there was a chance of his joining them, but, if it ever existed, it is impossible now w'hen Mr Lloyd George is leader of the party. Between him and Lord Cecil there is a deadly antipathy, dating from l their fierce controversies over Welsh i disestablishment. Thougft one weuld not think it to look at the two of them, Lord Cecil is four years younger than Lord Salisbury, being within a fortnight of his 63rd birthday. That is only middle-age in the political world. But Lord Cecil, as the present situation shows, is a difficult bed-fellow. He lacks patience and is apt to treat those who differ from him as if they were mere fools. If the fiscal controversy were to become active again, however, he might re-emerge into the front rank, for he is a much more sincere free trader than Mr Lloyd George, for instance. Lord Cecil and Lord Asquith have a high regard for each other.

A Punning Motto. Lord Onslow, w T ho has at the last moment taken Lord Cecil’s place in the British delegation to the League of Nations, belongs to a family which contributes one of the few touches of humour in the peerage volume. Its motto is “Fcstina Lente,” which, being interpreted, is a neat pun on its name. The present peer is regarded as one of the Government’s industrious apprentices. During the last seven years he has served in a subordinate capacity in about half-a-dozen departments, and In all of them he has shown the sort of unobtrusive efficiency that chiefs like. Though he is just turned fifty, premature baldness and an old-fashioned manner give the impression that he is older. The family has a long Parliamentary tradition and supplied the House of Commons with a famous Speaker (who became the first peer) over two hundred years ago. The present Earl's father was Governor of New Zealand, Colonial Secretary, and Minister of Agriculture in the early years of this century.

League of Nations Recruit. His Scottish Parliamentary colleagues are much interested in the selection of Major Walter Elliott as one of the British delegation to the League of Nations meeting at Geneva. Major Elliott —Mr Kirkwood calls him “Wat tie” —is a great favourite with the Clydeside group, for, among other and understands their mental processes, and understands their menta Iprocesses, which may seem obscure to others. But he has more solid qualities. He is a doctor by profession and was attached to the Royal Scots Greys during the war, hence his military title. But he is chiefly interested in bacteriology and public health problems, and it is presumably in respect of that training that he has been appointed a member of Sir Austen Chamberlain’s staff Had he not addicted himself to politics, he would have done well in his profession. He has a lively and incisive wit and on occasion sings a rollicking song.

The Minister. i Like most Londoners I seized the I miracle of the first fine day for a month .to get away into the country. Tea-time found me seated on a balcony overlooking Oxted Common eating toasted i scones and watching a pukka cricket ; and football match going on side by j side. Both flannelled cricketers and i footballers were occasionally knecdcop lin new mown hay. Sometimes the ' cricket ball strayed on to the soccer field, anon the soccer ball skimmed over .. h p..-l held. Nor was this the 1 only spectacle the Surrey village nail to 1 offer. At the station -waiting the London train was a remarkable personality, > a tall, thin, pale gentleman, austerely patrician in features and with a heavy stoop of his shoulders. He was in iiui-k with a clerical soft hat turned down at the brim. He held in his hand a black official-looking satchel. .It was the man of the moment —Lord 'Cecil of Geneva fame —his aesthetic face set in deep thought, leaning on a pile of country crates marked “eggs.” No Cause for Alarm. As usual, whenever the latest figures are made public, there is an epidemic of alarmist reports concerning our birthrate. It is shown to have dropped by I over 27 per cent, -within the last six I vears, and to be now the lowest in (Europe -with the solitary exception of •Sweden. The falling off is so persistent in each fresh report as to belie the apologists, who have attempted to show that it was merely a passing phase. This being so, the pessimists are point-

ing out all sorts of dreadful things that are going to happen to us as a consequence. When the birth-rate is being , discussed, no one seems to stop to think | that so many of our present troubles, I unemployment and kindred afflictions, ’are due to our islands being over-popu-

latcd. After all, the decline in the birth-rate may only be Nature’s way of restoring equilibrium. At any rate there is no use worrying about it. Property in Russia. A Russian in London, who has been an exile from bis homo since the 1917 revolution, but who was before that year one of the three wealthiest men in Southern Russia, tells me he has received messages from Russia which suggest that the Soviet is to make a further advance towards the recognition of private ownership of property. It is being suggested that house property should be restored to the old owners, the only condition being that they (lo not resell it within a limited period. I tsked my friend what difference this would make to him. “Well,” he said, “before the revolution I owned eleven blocks of flats, and they were valued in 1913 at £1,300,000.”

“Good. Old. Worcester.” A member of the Prime Minister’s party who went to Canada tells me it was remarkable the number of Worcestershire men and women they met everywhere. Mr Baldwin was right when he said at the inaugural dinner of the London Worcestershire Society recently that Worcestershire men were to be found in every part of the world. Frequently, the Prime Minister was brought up in the course of a speech with the greeting of “Good old Stour-

port,” “Well done, Kidderminster.” In every instance, Mr Baldwin sought out his countryman and chatted with him as far as time and opportunity i would permit. The association with the Baldwin family was brought very close j when the party arrived at Medecine ! Hat. There an inspector on the C.P.B. named Watkins proved to be brother of a gardener until recently in the Prime Minister’s own employ at his home in Worcestershire. A Botanical Caricature. I will say this for our Red Communists. They are good haters, and they arc fairly observant. This afternoon 1 was admiring the colour riot of the magnificent Hyde Park flower beds, which keep the place bright and beautiI ful now that the fashionable world has j withdrawn its artificial jazz fashion I rainbow. The pansises are at the moment in full bloom. And the Hyde Park gardeners have secured a magnificent display. From skilfully arranged beds the “pansy faces’’ smile up at you in fine profusion. Studying one bed of pale yellow pansies with dark mauve markings, were some idlers whose appearance and attire, including conspicuous red tics, suggested Battersea’s conscientious unemployed. One of them, after looking carefully at the “pansy faces,” said morosely: “The dead image of Ramsay Macdonald!’’’ It you look at your pansy bed in the garden, you will admit a certain vraisemblance in the botanical caricature. Westminster Abbey. I wonder if I am old-fashioned in disliking the cleaning process which Westminster Abbey exterior is now undergoing? Henry the Seventh’s Chapel has already been treated by steam blasting and now the window over the western doorway has been done, bringing into prominence an incised inscription of the days of George 11. The masonry looks at a distance as if it had just received the last touch of the mason’s chisel, and the detail of the carved work is beautifully chosen. But, personally, I prefer the varied tints wh. h time and London smoke have applied to the walls, giving a variety of shades if not of colour from a deep brown to the bleached whiteness of the exposed parts. No doubt it would be possible to make the Abbey look “as good as new” by going over the whole of it with steam blasting. But it is not now and no one wants to make it appear as such. Of course, if the clcac»ng process is accompanied by some treatment to H*inimise erosion of the stone, there is no more to be said.

Beauty Spots in Peril. London business men who are fortunate enough to have their homes in that beautiful outer fringe of suburbia that extends into West Surrey are suffering anxiety lest the War Office usurp some of their privileges. The alarms have been caused by the report that the Frensham, Ockley, Witley, and Royal Commons, situated between Hindhead and Godaiming, may possibly be acquired for the purpose of training and manoeuvring military forces. A plea against any such action has already been drawn up in the form of a memorial to Sir Laming Worthington-Evans, Secretary of War, and it is hoped that very general signnature will be put to the document by residents of the district. In this appeal it is pointed out that, if the commons become the property of the War Oflice, they will soon revert to the conditions which prevailed during the war period. The memorial closes by commenting that, at a time “when there is a commendable movement for the preservation or national beauty spots, it would be an act of vandalism to turn this district into a great military training ground.” No-Tipping Delusion The hotel managers ’ proposal to abolish tips, and substitute a 10 per cent, service charge, looks attractive. In practice it would prove a snare and a delusion. I see that the example of Italy is quoted, where this very system lias long obtained. What happens in Italy, and elsewhere under the same regime, is that your bill is 10 per cent. | liigg r, and you are expected to tip just the same. The tipping habit seems ineradicable. You occasionally find it even in good clubs. Croesus, with or without an American accent, -will try | to bribe the underlings to favour him. It is an unpleasant trait, but it suggests the mockery of Karl Marx’s Utopia. Some people will insist on trying to be better off than their neighbours. Though taxi fares have been officially reduced in London 25 per cent, many people still

pay the old rate, and give the old tips, too. This is not benevolence, but selfishness, yet the result is the same. Road Hogs and Road Rabbits. Motor-coach owners and drivers are very concerned about the attacks which are being made on 4 ‘ ill-mannered charabanc drivers.” The effect of these attacks is being felt upon the business, and this, added to the bad summer, is making some of the owners very despondent. Drivers are at pains to emphasise that t l ' ~ men in jmarge or coaches to-day are the very best obtainable. Drivers are “ten a penny” now, they explain, and it is only the man with the long experience and the clean record who can get a coach. In these circumstances, they are so anxious to keep their jobs when they get them that they do not run risks. Their bitterest complaint is that it is only since the advent of tho cheap car and the consequent appearance of thousands of amateur drivers on the roads at weekends that the complaints have been made. These amateurs, so the motorcoach drivers declare, ignore all the accepted rules of the road, and arc responsible for the perils that make driving from London to the coast a perfect nightmare. “We never have trouble with chauffeurs,” say the charabanc drivers. “It is always with the weekend amateur driver.”

How’s That, Umpire? As an example of bloodless rep-tape officialdom I think it would be hard to beat the income-tax extortion mentioned by Lord Harris. Al Kent professional cricketer, relying on the probity and sportsmanship of th© revenue authorities , paid income-tax as demanded on bis benefit match gate money. Finding later that the impost was illegal, after the Seymour decision, the defrauded “pro” tried to recover what he ought never to have paid. The revenue people refused, as Lord Harris puts it, “to disgorge,” on the miserable plea that he had not appealed within the period allowed! Surely such a real sportsman as Mr Churchill will not countenance this sort of morality on the part of his subordinates? But’it is an arresting object lesson in the depravity of coldblooded officialdom, without any restraint from public opinion. What a time we should have under a Socialist Whitehall! Lord Harris’ example is not solitary, and its ethics arc beneath those of the suburban racecourse thug. Kultor. Whatever cause wc may have had to deride German kultiir during the war, and on its militarist side, there is no disguising the Teutonic enthusiasm for genuine culture. A friend just back from Frankfort tells me that the municipality runs two theatres, one for opera and one for plays, at a cost of about £lOO,OOO a year. Frankfort is about the size of Sheffield. Imagine Sheffield, or indeed any other English town or city, spending half that sum on any form of art. When my friend expressed to a prominent German resident his amazement that, especially in post-war circumstances, the ratepayers should be willing to shoulder such an expense for popular entertainment, the reply was that nobody dreamt of so much as questioning it. “We spend more on education than you do,” said the Frankforter, “and we regard cheap opera and plays as a part of it!” London Travel

The Ministry of Transport shares Whitehall’s post-war passion for statistics. It has just prepared a table, tho precise utility of which may be not immediately apparent, showing how many passengers travel between railway stations within a radius of fifteen miles from Charing Cross. These figures include not only the immense underground railway passenger traffic, but also local passengers on London’s main-line systems. During last May, the total number of journeys made in tho London area, including seasonticket holders and workmen, was nearly 66,000,000. This gargantuan total is less than that of May 1919 by about 17,000,000. So far from the astonishment some experts express at this decrease, one is amazed that it is sc small. The trifling decrease is certainly not due, as suggested, to brisker business in 1919. It is amply explained by the enormous development during that period in London’s most efficient omnibus service, not to mention the steady growth of private motor traffic. Since 1919, our ’bus traffic has increased by over forty per cent. Luck at Deauville. Sir Alfred Butt, who is again speeding a holiday at Deauville, is said to have once more had a marvellous run of luck. He is reported to have won between £B,OOO and £9,000 when holding the bank at baccarat and is “still winning.” Last year he had a similar run of luck and returned home some £3,000

I to the good. I was talking to a friend of Sir Alfred’s who has been with I ’” during the holiday. lie told me his ■ luck seemed never to desert him. b.u | ■ Alfred is perfectly cool in his play and i [winning docs not induce him to make ‘rash stakes. It difficult to tell from Inis expression- whethe? fee is winning’ or losing d r ? ■■■ *’■ ■ talks about his luck after fee feds Jeft the l&bd&i...