When Viscount Curzon renewed his anti-charabancs campaign and Sir Eric Geddes was doing his best to maintain an even mind amid the contradictory suggestions showered upon him, the Ministerial eye was caught by the red gleam from Colonel Wedgwood's shirt-front. At once, the old railway instinct reasserted itself. Recognizing the danger-signal and hastily cramming on his brakes, Sir Eric observed that it would be "a great calamity" to prevent the economic use of the charabancs.
Tuesday, August 10th.—As Lord Great Chamberlain, and therefore official custodian of the Palace of Westminster, Lord Lincolnshire mentioned with due solemnity the regrettable incident of the day before. Lord Curzon thought the offender (the Right Hon. A. Carlisle) should be allowed to explain his behaviour, and suggested that he should himself address to him a suitable letter. Several noble lords—anticipating, no doubt, that, whatever else came of it, the correspondence would furnish lively reading—said "Hear, hear."
A week ago the Peers decided by a very small majority—28 to 23—that there should be no Minister of Mines, but only an Under-Secretary. Lord Peel now sought to induce them to change their minds. His principal argument was that a Minister would only cost five hundred pounds a year more than a Secretary and would secure the "harmony in the coal-trade" now so conspicuously lacking. The Peers evidently thought this too good to be true, for they proceeded to reassert their previous decision by 48 to 23.
A DISTINGUISHED STRANGER.
M. Krassin contemplates the Commons.
There was a big assemblage in the Commons to hear the Prime Minister's statement on Poland. The Duke of York was over the Clock, flanked by the Archbishop of Canterbury on one side and Messrs. Kameneff and Krassin (who sound, but do not look, like a music-hall "turn") on the other.
Some facts bearing, more or less, on the situation were revealed at Question-time. Mr. Churchill denied that he had ever suggested an alliance with the Germans against Bolshevism, and, as we are keeping the Watch on the Rhine with only thirteen thousand men—just three thousand more than it takes to garrison London—perhaps it is just as well. He has, I gathered, no great opinion of the Bolshevists as soldiers. In his endeavour to describe the disgust of our troops in North Russia at being ordered to retire before "an enemy they cordially despised" he nearly dislocated his upper lip.
For two-thirds of his speech the Prime Minister was the sober statesman, discussing with due solemnity the grave possibilities of the Russo-Polish crisis. The Poles had been rash and must take the consequences. We should not help them unless the Bolshevists, not content with punishment, threatened the extinction of Poland's independence.
Then his mood changed, and for a sparkling quarter of an hour he chaffed the Labour Party for its support of the Soviet Government, an unrepresentative self-appointed oligarchy. To make his point he even sacrificed a colleague. Lenin was an aristocrat, Trotsky a journalist. "In fact"—turning to Mr. Churchill—"my right honourable friend is an embodiment of both."