Notes

New Zealand Tablet, 16 September 1909, Page 1462

Notes

Sir Joseph Ward in London Sir Robert Stout, in his rule of universal critic, mad« himself unpleasantly and uncnviably conspicuous by the flamboyant, oracular, almost swaggeringly bumptious attitude which ho adopted in his recent public utterances in the Home Land. He was ready to solve all the problems of the universe — or, at all events, all the problems of the Empire — at a moment's notice. Everything was rotten in the statp of Denmark, and it was his pleasing and easy task to show the benighted British statesmen how everything was to be put right. It did not matter what the subject was — law, defence, politics, education, religion — nothing came amiss to his omniscience. ' Hear him but reason in divinity, And all-admiring with an inward wish You would desire that he were made a prelate : Hear him debate of commonwealth affairs, Yon would say it hath been all in all his study : List his discourse of war, and you shall hear A fearful battle rendcr'd you in music: Turn him to any cause of policy, The Gordian knot of it he will unloose, Familiar as his garter.' And the net result of all this foolish display was that Sir Robert only succeeded in- making himself ridiculous, as one who had crossed many thousand miles of ocean to teach his maternal grandparent to extract nutriment from eggs. » * In marked contrast has been the dignity, good taste, modesty, and quiet courtesy shown by Sir Joseph "Ward, who appears to have made friends in all directions. In a recent issue, in the course of a friendly notice of Sir Joseph, the London Tahlet pays our Premier, and incidentally the Dominion, the following tribute: 'Sir Joseph Ward is not a stranger to England, but the visit he isnow paying seems every day to turn a multitude of strangers into acquaintances, and acquaintances into friends. After the impetuosity of Mr. Seddon, the deliberation of Sir Joseph indicates to the most casual of observers that New Zealand is not tied to one type of Prime Minister. Sir Joseph, we may hope, finds something to learn in the Motherland. Certainly there is much that he could teach. The American child is said to take his parents about; and, in a far graver sense, many an English parent owns it a privilege, an edification, and in some sense an education, to know his or her own children. Similarly England may very well take a lesson in the liberality which New Zealand displays in choosing her first citizen on his merits, and not allowing his profession of the Catholic faith to be a bar to his supremacy in the world of politics.'

pearance of the Pope : ' His strongly marked features are plainly defined in the broad light. The stature is powerful, the shoulders broad, the chin masterful, the mouth Bingularly expressive; but the gentleness of the glance, the crystal clearness of the kindly eyes soften the haughty outline. A plentiful crown of ash-colored hair encircles the little white silk skull-cap which the Sovereign Pontiff wears thrust on the back of his head ; his plump and energetic hands are beautifully shaped; his voice is grave, sonorous, and distinct.' * Before concluding his account of the interview, the writer tells what became of that much-sought-after relic, the Holy Father's return ticket to Venice : ' Summoned to the Conclave at Rome, when he left Venice, one blazing morning in July, greeted by the prophetic cry of "Long live the Pope!" he not for a moment doubted that he should return. '" So little did I think that I should never seu Venice again," he says, with a smile, "that I took a biylietto da n data c ritorno." 'He long kept this return ticket. Wealthy collectors strove by every means in their power to become its purchaser. . . He invariably refused. Last year the King of Greeco, in the course of a visit which he paid to the Pope, expressed a keen desire to possess this little piece of cardboard which has become for all time historical — and the Pope gave it him. 'On the other hand, there is one humble relic with which nothing will ever induce him to part. This relic is his watch, a little cheax> nickel watch. '" It marked the minutes of my mother's deathstruggles," he says, " and the hour of my definite separation from the ouler world, from space and liberty. It has marked all the sad, all the joyous, all the solemn moments of my life. What jewel could be more precious to me?" 'Ho carries it fastened to a white silk cord in the broad sash which he wears round his waist; and he did not hesitate to offend against the etiquette which hitherto had obliged the Pope, whon he wished to know the time, to apply to one of his prelates in waiting.'

The writer very appositely suggests the formation of a Bociety which shall bring Catholic journalists and authors into closer touch with one another.