Foreign News: Voyage Exploratory

(See front cover)

A fog descended upon London and environs. It was not a "London particular," but sufficient of a fog to make Philip Snowden, the Crippled Chancellor, hero of the pan-European money-squabble at The Hague (TIME, Aug. 12 to Sept. 9), look more gnome-like than ever as he stumped on his canes into No. 10 Downing St. for one of the most special Cabinet meetings in recent British history. Gnome-like also, or like a maimed goodwife from the fairy books, looked motherly Margaret ("Aunt Maggie") Bondfield, the Secretary of Labor, who had to be helped from her motor by chauffeur and nurse, having broken her ankle on vacation.

It was the last Cabinet meeting prior to the first visit of a British Prime Minister to the U. S. Everyone in London (and many throughout England*) felt the moment keenly. People hovered about Downing Street. What could properly be called the World Press was on tiptoes and the telephone. The U. S. Ambassador, Charles Gates Dawes, arrived (without pipe, for the spotlight was not on him) to say good-bye and make friendly suggestions. Also came (impossible in a less civilized country) the leader of the Opposition, Stanley Baldwin, the ousted Conservative chief saying "good-bye-good luck" to the installed Labor Chief, for the general good it might do England.

The preoccupied Cabinet discussed things which deemed at the moment almost as desultory as the day's fog—the crash of certain stocks on Change; Russian recognition; Unemployment; the Coal Mining situation; Slum Clearance. It acquiesced in the appointment of the keen little Crippled Chancellor as Acting Prime Minister. Also the Cabinet listened to its chief's words of regret about having to miss the impending conclave of the Labor Party at Brighton.* Finally, of course, the Prime Minister explained once more why he was going abroad.

Preparations. Ishbel MacDonald, roseate daughter and hostess of the Prime Minister, was discovered buying apparel for the trip. Laborite feelings were reassured by news that she and her father intended to live from three suitcases apiece—he trusting to luck for golf clubs if they should be usable, she upon diplomatic courtesy for anything her natural complexion might not conquer.

Voyage. As his penultimate word to the Daily Herald, Labor's organ, Prime Minister MacDonald said:

"I go on a voyage of exploration.

"The greatest contribution which this generation can make to history is to establish peace among nations and induce them to feel a sense of security by political agreements carried out by judicial means.

"The United States and ourselves, having the same objects, should proclaim them with a united voice. . . .

"I go away to see what can be done."

As sailing time drew near it became more and more apparent that naval reductions, Prohibition treaties and all other specific topics were receding in the Prime Minister's mind, that he was setting out for a goodwill trip much like Herbert Hoover's tour of Latin America last winter as President-elect. His final word as the boat-train pulled out of crowded Waterloo Station was: "I hope to be able to do something to narrow the Atlantic."

At Southampton he said: "I go . . . as a humble missionary of peace."