Dry Diplomacy

A good diplomat must always be diplomatic. Recently Rt. Hon. Sir Esme William Howard, Knight Grand Cross of the Bath, Knight Grand Cross of St. Michael and St. George, Privy Councillor Commander of the Royal Victorian Order, Ambassador to the U. S. from the Court of St. James's, proved himself a good diplomat when one James T. Carter, Lynchburg (Va.) lumberman, wrote him a letter demanding that Sir Esme "join hands with the U. S." by relinquishing the privilege of diplomatic liquor importations. The British Ambassador replied (via his private secretary) that he would willingly do so, provided the U. S. made the request.

Last week Sir Esme made the British Embassy dry. He did it voluntarily, without pressure from the State Department, by refusing to sign any more requisitions for liquor importations. The Drys hailed him as a "great good fellow." South Carolina's Senator Coleman Livingston Blease, prime agitator for Dry embassies in Washington, took off his hat and bowed to him. He was saluted by Henry Ford for his "fine old English spirit."

Suave and distinguished Dean of the diplomatic corps though he is, Sir Esme's action aroused great displeasure among other ambassadors and diplomats in Washington. They thought he had set a bad example, had endangered the corps traditional immunity. Desks were pounded, voices raised, in secret protest against the British Ambassador's effort to be diplomatic.

Sir Esme himself gave no explanation for thus yielding his embassy's wet privilege. By others three possible reasons were advanced: 1) Sir Esme himself does not drink alcoholic beverages, due to delicate health. Milk he drinks in quantities and every hostess who entertains him knows enough to provide it for him. 2) Sir Esme has been thoroughly annoyed at news photographs, widely circulated, of liquor trucks unloading at his embassy, followed by abusive letters from many a Dry crank. 3) The British Embassy is reported sufficiently stocked with liquor to carry over until next February when Sir Esme retires.

Leaders of the Washington diplomatic corps who stormed in private at the new British attitude on Prohibition were:

French Ambassador M. Paul Claudel, famed poet, philosopher, mystic. A chubby, bald, scraggly-mustached man, he is so shy that formal diplomatic entertainments are obnoxious to him. In Japan, his last ambassadorial post, he was almost a national hero because of his literary achievements, his appreciation of difficult Oriental art. Last week he said: "I shall not surrender a privilege of so many years' standing."

German Ambassador Herr Doktor Friedrich Wilhelm von Prittwitz und Gaffron, scholar student directing a heavy intellect upon the intricacies of musty international politics. A tall, spare man, stiff and unbending in manner, he could see no sense in reducing the rights of a diplomat.

Italian Ambassador Signer Mobile Giacomo de Martino, short, fussy, quick and nervous of movement. His chief recreation is confined to long motor rides out of Washington. Wines at the Italian Embassy have long been famed.

Japanese Ambassador M. Katsuji Debuchi, a true diplomat striving always to comprehend and reflect U. S. life. Short, plump, all smiles, he prides himself on his easy colloquial English.

Mexican Ambassador Senor Don Manuel C. Tellez, a young up-from-the-ranks diplomat famed for his sharp humor. A short man with glistening black hair and classic Spanish features, he is the discreetly jovial host at many a lavish entertainment at the Mexican Embassy.

Would other Embassies follow the British and go Dry? It seemed unlikely, though guests recalled that Jose de Horta Machado da Franca, Visconde d'Alte, the Portuguese Minister, was no server of "intoxicating beverages" at his entertainments, and that Chilean Ambassador Carlos Davila, after giving a dry dinner to Mrs. Edward Everett Gann, recently had queried his Government on the wisdom of cutting off its embassy's liquor supply, not to accord with U. S. Prohibition, but with a new temperance movement in Chile.