Apathy

"Lloyd George won't beat us--Ramsay won't defeat us--but Apathy might!" was the slogan of a Conservative poster widely displayed through Britain's general elections campaign (TIME, May 27). Last week, as the campaign closed, the word Apathy was repeated again and again by political writers.

Said London's Star: "Frankly, we consider this election the dullest within memory of living man."

Few papers treated the campaign as the most important news of the week. Reviewing the depressing scene in the New York Times last week, famed Journalist and War Correspondent Sir Philip Gibbs said:

"Mr. Baldwin has given his slogan as 'Safety First.' That is not very thrilling to the spirit of youth. If he had said 'Live Dangerously' or 'Adventure Greatly' he might have caught the eye and heart of a younger generation. ... If he had promised husbands for surplus women, or a tax on bachelors ... or State-endowed 'talk-ies.' he might have aroused their interest.

"The secret truth about this general election is that whatever party gets into power it will not make a hair's breadth of difference to the country in general policy and tradition. There will be no new social revolution if Ramsay MacDonald becomes Prime Minister again. The social revolution is already in full swing owing to income tax and death duties and the breaking up of the old landed estates. The Labor party ... are utterly unable to find any vital differences of philosophy or method between themselves and their opponents.

"The truth is that there is no leadership of any kind in this election struggle. . . . Some of the new candidates may have a touch of inspiration, but so far they have not made themselves heard above the market place.

"There is only one man in England to-day who could lead the people on a new crusade and make them follow him. . . . That is the Prince of Wales, who is outside politics and compelled to keep silent. . . ."

Quite satisfied with the dullness of the campaign was Stanley ("Safety First") Baldwin. Paused on the brink of the election, he issued to the press a statement which reminded U. S. citizens of "Keep cool with Coolidge" (1924), or for that matter of any statesman in power and up for re-election.

Said he: "The only persistent criticism of the Conservative Party at this election is that it is dull. I am accused of being unexciting and lacking in thrills! I am glad to feel that the complaint is true. . . ."

Almost as remote from politics as the Royal Family was Punch, last week, and its pontifical editor, Sir Owen Seaman, agile rhymster, able after-dinner speaker, onetime professor of literature.

Punch represents thousands of solid respectable British families. It is read in every quarter of the globe. It was Punch that first mourned the death of Lincoln; that published the famed cartoon, "Dropping the Pilot," when the young German Kaiser forced Bismarck to resign; that opposed the Irish Home Rulers; that grew most exercised over Mayor Thompson's (Chicago) anti-British antics.

During the past six weeks Punch has published a few genteel quips on electioneering, a few more about "flapper voters," a few jokes based on heckling in mass meetings. Beyond that there has been no reference to the elections.

Possible causes:

1) Punch's circulation may be considered so widespread that any trace of partisanship would be bad business.

2) Sir Owen Seaman, who is approaching 70 and has edited "the most noted humorous magazine in the world" for 23 years, may consider the matter of Britain's next Prime Minister unimportant.

What little excitement the closing days of the campaign held was provided by pugnacious, Virginia-born, Viscountess Nancy Astor. For several days Britain debated whether or not: 1) Lady Astor had knocked a Labor organizer's hat off at Plymouth. 2) Lady Astor's sister, Mrs. Paul Phipps, had received a nasty blow in the pit of the stomach from a young woman Laborite carrying a baby.

Even so, Lady Aster's husband's horse, Cragadour, was attracting quite as much space in the papers as any of the leading candidates.

Cragadour remains the favorite in the Derby. Always in England the Derby vies in importance with any political event. This year the election was almost forgotten with 70 million dollars wagered on the race; with Cragadour, the favorite, sick of a stomach trouble and daily bulletins being issued on the state of his health; with the sudden scratching of the second favorite, Midlothian, because of the death of his owner, Archibald Philip Primrose, Earl of Rosebery, last of the Great Victorians and the man who succeeded Gladstone as Prime Minister.