WITHOUT PREJUDICE

Dominion, Volume 21, Issue 126, 25 February 1928, Page 8

WITHOUT PREJUDICE

NOTES AT RANDOM

(Ry

T.D.H.)

Wellington, one gathers, would sooner not have a War Memorial at all than not have it in exactly the right spot.

It is bad form in Britain now to remember that the Germans shot Nurse Cavell—and vulgar in the extreme to recall that Mr. Lloyd George wanted to hang the Kaiser.

Excavation of a queen’s tomb of 6600 years ago, at Ur of the Chaldees, reveals cockle shells for holding face paints and eighteen fluted tumblers.—lf they rummage round a little more no doubt they will find the cocktail shaker.

Russian diplomacy of recent years lias not been exactly distinguished by candour, and the Russian peace plan put forward at Geneva is in line with many airy and hollow proposals put forward bv the diplomatists of that country in the old days, the Russian bear apparently not having changed much in going over from Tsarism to Bolshevism. The new collection of ambassadors’ dispatches published by the British Foreign Office gives some amusing . instances of the wiliness of the Russians thirty years back.

In 1898 Lord Salisbury wrote to the British Ambassador at St. Petersburg suggesting that an endeavour should be made to reach an understanding with Russia about the position in the Far East in order to avoid the continual antagonism of the two Powers in China. The Russians declared that tlfey would be only too happy to define their position and to endeavour to reduce all points of disagreement. They were all for peace and amity. Nevertheless the British Ambassador could never get the Russian Ministers to talk about what they intended in China, except in the most ambiguous language.

It was while these amicable conversations were in progress that Russia grabbed Port Arthur, an event which led later to the Russo-Japanese war. M. Witte, of the Russian Ministry, however, called on the British Ambassador and said this little event must not be allowed to mar Anglo-Russian amity. “Remember,’’ he said, “that tlie past is beyond recall, and what we have now to consider is tlie future of our relations.’’ This interesting "past 1 ’ to which M. Witte referred as beyond recall was then five or six months old.

M. Witte, while all for peace and amitv, was doubtful whether a definite agreement about questions in dispute was the best way of securing harmony. “It would,” he contended, “be almost impossible to word such an agreement in a wav to guard against an evasion of its terms, or to avoid disputes over its interpretation.” An agreement in general terms, M. Witte thought, would be much more satisfactory to everybody

“His Excellency then went on to sav,” adds the Ambassador’s dispatch, "that in his opinion a far more solid basis for our future relations would be established by a general agreement concluded between the two Governments end ratified by their respective Sovereigns, recording a firm determination to establish their relations on a footing of frank and friendly understanding, and engaging that, on any occasion of a question arising in any part of the world which either Government regarded as involving a possible conflict between their respective interests, they would at once submit it to a frank and friendly discussion between them, with a firm regard to seek its satisfactory adjustment by a due regard to the legitimate interests of both.”

AL Witte ingeniously added that he was not a diplomatist himself, but he thought it ‘‘must be in the power of professional diplomacy to draft such an agreement.” What such an agreement would amount to AL Witte did not explain, and it is mighty hard for a.plsin person to see any meaning at all in his rigmarole.’ Lord Salisbury, it is interesting to note, wrote across the bottom of the Ambassador’s dispatch: “I am afraid that if we concluded an agreement in M. de Witte’s language it would be a good deal laughed at.” That was as far" as Russian diplomacy got when it came down to tin-tac.ks in 1898, and it seems just about as slim in 1928.

Britain’s novelists seem to be a guileless lot. In a letter to the London “Times” the other day, “A Police Constable” wrote complaining that having been on the sick list he had read, a lot of detective stories during the preceding weeks, and almost invariably when the authors brought m the police they did things as no policeman would ever do them. Would such a low standard of accuracy, he asked, be tolerated in any other profession than novel writing? His doctor, he added, assured him that when medical men were brought on to the scene things were even worse. Such laxness the policeman argued ought to be corrected. # * ♦

Tn France in the old days authors had to be more careful, and some were held legally responsible for any misstatement. This is, at any rate, an instance of an almanac-maker xvho had to pav up for inaccuracy. It is related that a century ago a public official in Paris fell into difficulties and was hard pressed bv his creditors. According to the law, arrests for debt could only be made between sunrise and sunset, so the officer was careful to take iiis walks abroad in the evening. One clav, on stepping out of his door, he was immediately arrested. He protested, and drew an almanac from his pocket to show that it w - as Uiree minutes past sunset. Ihe bailiff produced another almanac showing that the sun did not set that day for another nine minutes. The bailiff’s almanac proved correct. On his release the officer took action against the publishers of the misleading almanac and obtained damages.

“I’ve never smoked a cigarette, never touched a drop of liquor in my life. I’ve never looked at another woman’s husband, or anv man but my own husband.” So said a young woman whom the San Francisco “Call” thought it worth while to interview a few weeks back. This young lady had had her fun forging cheques and is now in gaol. RED ROSES. High in some drowsy attic, now, her dream Is stored a wav in musk aud lavender, And roof and gable, wainscotting and beam Guard Phoebe’s secret from the slanderer. And no one knows how the blurred line might tell The misadventure of an old romance; These ancient walls keep Phoebe s secret well, . • j / Whispering nothing to the winds of Chance. And seeing Phoebe now, aged fiftythree, One cannot quite conceive how once allure Was hers, and beauty and dark wi tcher v, But in her room of curtains and plush chairs, She sits remembering her Matador— And roses crushed to red blood on the stairs. —Harold Vinal.