A SPECTATOR'S NOTEBOOK N OW that Mrs. Simpson's divorce has been
made absolute and the Duke of Windsor has joined her in France is it too much to hope that the British Press will leave them to enjoy their lives in peace ? Judging from this week's papers it is—far too much. The Times, The Telegraph and the Morning Post were unexceptionable but the popular Press has been sleuthing day and night round the closed gates of the Chateau du Cande. The Daily Mail, I observe, descried a kiss of which the Daily Express, miraculously, displays no knowledge—which suggests the theological problem whether the searcher for truth at the bottom of a well is more likely to imagine something that isn't there or to overlook something that is. King Edward made his choice and went his way. The nation accepted it and has nothing to regret. But there might surely be sufficient decency now in those who write to lead them to refrain from either scrabbling in the mud for gobbets to fling at him or turning a relentless spotlight on him whenever he picks a flower or lofts out of a bunker. A quatrain entitled "The Face on a Postage Stamp," has been sent me which seems worth transcribing : Firm-lipped beneath an overburdened brow He leaves the loftiest life on earth behind him.
The die is cast, and all he asks us now Is to recall his youth and cease to mind him.
* * * * Nothing in the Spanish war is more astonishing than the way in which impending events fail to materialise. Week after week one side or the other brings off a coup which means that a town, or an improvised fortress, is cut off and must infallibly surrender in a day or two. I leave aside Madrid itself, the date for whose fall is periodically predicted for a week pr so ahead by General de Llano and British journalists. But how many months is it since "the heights dominating Huesca" were seized by the Government ? For how many have the Asturian miners been capturing Oviedo house by house ? Or take Teruel. By April 23rd that town was finally surrounded by Government troops and its fall made imminent ; but it has not fallen ; it has simply faded out of the news. Or the insurgents cut off in the University City with the bridges blown up behind them and all their communications under fire. That was on April 9th ; it was obvious that they had nothing to do but capitulate. Yet they have not capitulated apparently ; again the current news simply passes them by. I asked a Spanish friend in London to explain, but he knew no more than I do.
* * * * The Bishop of London, who is in his eightieth year, last week completed thirty-six years as Diocesan. It is a notable record, but though Dr. Winnington-Ingram is in notoriously vigorous health the question is frankly raised . whether so long a tenure of office by any man makes equally for the vigorous health of the diocese. A reasonable speed in circu- lation through the cursus honor= is ncuRily to be desired, and though new blood cannot justify itself on the ground of its newness alone it would be a mistake to apply indis- criminately the dictum that "the old is better." In the. thirty-six years before Dr. Winnington-Ingram's appointment Fulham Palace knew three tenants, John Jackson, Frederiek Temple and Mandell Creighton. But it can be well ,under.... stood that their successor desires to play his part in West- minster Abbey at the Coronation, and perhaps to keep his eightieth birthday next January in his Palace, before following the example of Mr. Baldwin in one sphere and the Bishop of Lichfield in another.
* * * * The cricketing columns of The Timss (which I always mention with a mental obeisance) have given some of that great journal's readers a slight shock in the last few days owing to the onset of a violent epidemic of" misters," applied to all the " gentlemen " in every match. This is a new idiosyn- crasy, and it may be well enough when a team, like Yorkshire, consists of one gentleman, as captain, and ten players. But in a report like that of the Seniors' Match at Cambridge it sinks to the ridiculous. You can hardly see the score for the Misters. (" Mr. A bowled a long-hop to Mr. B, who was neatly caught at mid-off by Mr. C".) This, it is interesting to observe, came on gradually. There was a Freshmen's match at Oxford last week. In the first and second day's report no Mister at all—the usual initials. In the third day's, conscience began to prick and Misters were attached or omitted quite anarchically. Now apparently they are univer- sal and well-set. But consistency at all costs. I count on reading of the exploits of Mr. Austin (no longer, of course, Mr. Perry) at Wimbledon, and of the superb tackling of Mr. Wooller by Mr. Gadney at Twickenham a little later. Social distinctions on the green turf, come what may. .
* * * One question, quite unconnected with the legal proceedings that have been initiated in regard to references to the Duke of Windsor in Coronation Commentary suggests itself about the book in view of the fact that its author is a member of the League of Nations Secretariat. There is a well- known and established rule at Geneva, based on the practice of our own and other civil services, that no official may write for publication a book, or even an article, bearing on current affairs without first obtaining the permission Of the Secretary-General. In this case, presumably, either the permission was not sought, which seems remarkable, or it was sought and given, which seems more remarkable still. I am told it is the less surprising assumption which corre- sponds with the facts.
* * * * The by-election in the Drake division of Plymouth might have been a good deal more interesting than at present seems likely. Major Henry Guest is apparently to contest the seat his late brother held. But before the seat fell vacant a proposal to run Commander Stephen King-Hall as a National Labour candidate was, I believe, under active discussion. It came to nothing because the Conservatives, not very surprisingly, declined to hand over a traditionally Conservative seat to a representative of another branch of the Government coalition.
* * THE HIDING OF MY LIFE by TOMMY FARR.
Fallentis semita vitae Pugilists are notoriously a self- effacing class (when .they are not effacing someone else).
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