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THE
NINETEENTH
OENTUBY
AND AFTER
XIX- -XX
A MONTHLY REVIEW
EDITED BY JAMES KNOWLES
VOL. LVni
JULY-DECEMBER 1905
• -. •♦> ,
LONDON
SPOTTISWOODE & CO. LTD., PRINTERS
NEW-STBEET SQUARE, B.C.
1906
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Google
• . - •
• •. • • •
• ^« • * •« •
{Th4 rights of translaUon and of repr^duetUm are reserved)
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Google
(2)
CONTENTS OF VOL. LVTH
Thb GoLLiPSB or Bu88u:
(1) Thb Imbbmnitt dub to Japan. By 0. EltBb€^her • . 1
(3) Thb Faix of M. Dblcass^ and thb Anolo-Fsbngh * Entbntb.*
By FrancU de Pressensi ...... 22
(9) Obbmant and Mobocgo. By Austin JP. Harrison . . 84
(4) Gbbmany and BBLanm. By Demetrius 0. Boulger 48
(5) Qbbat Britain, Gbbmant, and Sba Powbb. By Robert
Maehray ........ 61
Nationai. Defbnob — A Ciyilian*8 Imprbssion. By His Grace the
DuheofArgyU 02
Thb Pbotision fob thb Maintbnanob and Bbpaibs of oub Flbbt.
By Sir WiUiam H. White ...... 67
Thb Sb€Bbt Histoby of the Tbbatt of Bbblin — ^A Talk with thb
LATB Lord Bowton. By A, N. Cummmg • . 88
A GouHTBT Pabson OF THB EiOHTBBNTH Cbntubt. By the Eev.
Dr, Jessopp ........ 91
Thb Saobed Tbebs of Bomb. By 8t. Clair Baddeley . . .100
Obaanisbd Labour and thb Unbmplotbd Pboblbm. By Isaac H.
MitcheU 116
Thb Foundation of thb Church of England in Australia. By
the Bight Bev. the Bishop of North Queensla/nd . . .127
Hbathbn Bitbs and Supbbstitions in Cbtlon. By Mrs, Comer-
Ohknutz ........ 182
Irbland'b Financial Burden. Bythe Bight Hon, the Earl of Dunraven 187
Count St. Paul in Paris. By Walter Frewen Lord . , 168
The Butler Bepobt. By Herbert Paul ..... 167
The Nation and the Abmt : The Bbsponsibilitt of the Individual
Citizen
By Colonel the Earl of Erroll . . . . .178
By the Bev. H. BusseU Wahefield . . . .178
Thb Lderal Unionist Party. By the Bight Hon. Sir West Bidgeway 182
The White Peril in Australasia. By Quy H. Scholefield . 196
Imprbssional Draica. By Lady Archibald CampbeU . 204
VANisHDra YiBNNA : A Betrospect. By La>dy Paget . . ' 214
MADAim Tallibn. By Donwnick Daily ..... 228
An Autumn Wandbbing in Morocco. By T, E, Weir 285
6oxB Fbbnch and English Painting. By Frederick Wedmore . 246
The Influence of Berkeley. By Stephen Paget . 262
The Hbbbbw and the Babylonian Cosmologies. By the Bev,
Dr. W, St Clair TisdaU 259
The Camaroub. By David H. Wilson . . . . .267
Thb Macaronis. By Norman Pearson ..... 278
Thb Obigin of Money from Ornament. By WiUiam Warrand CarUle 290
HousBXBEPiNG AND NATIONAL Wbll-bbing. By Mrs. Huth Jackson . 298
A NoTB ON Wombn's Suffrage. By the Cotmtess of Selbome . 806
Thb Contest fob Sea-foweb : Gbrmany's Opportunity. By Archibald
8.Hurd 806
* Mb. Spbaxbr.' By Michael MacDonagh . . .820
Bbdibtribution. By Herbert Paul ..... 886
Bomb Problems of the XJppeb Nile. {With a Map.) By Sir WilUam
B. Qarstin ........ 846
Thb Defence of Indu. By His Highness the Aga Khan . . 867
A PuBA FOR A Ministry of Fine Arts. By M, H, Spiehnann . 876
Thb Traffic of London. By CaptoMi Oeorge S. C. Swinton , . 889
How Poor-Law Guardians Spend their Money. By Miss Edith Sellers 408
Aghbb SoBEL. By Mrs W. Kemp-Welch . .... 416
AoTAOi : The Stoby of a Japanbsb Heroine. By Miss Yd Theodora
Osahi 427
Thb iUcBNT Inobbase in Sunday Trading. By the Bight Hon. Lord
Avebury ........ 484
A Viceroy's Post-bag. By the Bight Hon, Lord Colchester . . 442
A FiBOAL Bbfobmbb of Cbbvantbs' Time. By J. W, Crombie . 462
fiAn We an Army? By Adjmral C. C, Penroae-FitsOerald . . 461
-A 01D\.
" wv.!lS^, f-
IV
CONTENTS OF VOL. LVIII
OoBNSwALL's MONUMENT IN Wbstionstbb Abbbt. By M%8S Isabel J,
ComtoaU ......
Thb Boyal Commission on Ecclesiastical Discipline. By D. C,
Lathbury ......
Chbistianitt as a Natueal Belioion. By W, H, MaMoch
A Political Bbtbospect. By Professor A, Vambiry .
The Session. By Herbert Pa/iil ....
The New Alliance. By Herbert Paul .
The Gebman Danoeb to South Afeica. By 0. EltMbacher
The Bxtptubb between Noewat and Sweden. By Sir Henry Seton
Karr ........
The Libebal Unionist Pabty {crmcltided). By the Bight Hon. Sir
West Bidgeway ......
A Municipal Concebt Hall fob London. By Frederick Vemey
The Tbue Foundations of Empibe: The Home and the Wobkshop.
By Miss Violet B, Ma/rhham ....
The Study of Histoby in Public Schools. By C, H. K. Marten
* The Tbial of Jesus.' By thef Bev, Septimus Buss
An Indian Bbtbospect and Some Comments. By Ameer Ali .
Sib Walteb Scott on his * Gabions.* By the Hon, Mrs, Mcbxwell Scott
An Eiohteenth-Centuby Episode in Viennese Coubt Life. By the
Baroness Suzette de Zuylen de Nyevelt ....
Between Two Tbains By Lieut-Colonel D, C, Pedder
Natube Gabdens. By Oswald Crawfurd ....
Queen Chbistina's Miniatube Painteb. By Dr, George C, Williamson
How Poob-Law Guabdians Spend theib Monet in Scotland. By
Sir Alexa/nder Baird ......
The Wooing of the Electobs. By Michael MacDonagh
Gebmany and Wab Soabbs in England. By Karl Blind
The Excessive National Expenditube. By the Bight Hon. Lord
Avebury ........
The Captube of Pbivate Pbopebty at Sea. By Edmund Bobertson
The Deans and the Athanasian Cbeed. By the Very Bev, the Dean
of Windsor ........
The Lobd's Day Obsbbvance: A Beply to Lobd Avebuby. By the
Bev. Frederic PeaJce .....
Days in a Pabis Convent. By Miss Bose M. Bradley .
The Gaelic League. By the Countess Dowager of Desart
The Stock-Size of Success. By Miss Gertrude Kingston
The Boman Catacombs. By H, W. Hoare
Latin fob Gibls. By Stephen Paget
Some SEVENTEENTH-CENTimY Housewives. By Lady Violet GrevUle ,
Out on the * Neveb Neveb.* By the Bight Bev the Bishop of North
Queensland ......
The Austbauan Laboub Pabty. By the Hon. J. W. Kirwan
Bbdistbibution. By Sir Henry Kimber .
LiBEBALS and Fobeign Polict. By Herbert Pa/ul
The Bevolution in Bussia. By Prince Kropothin
Unemployment and the * Moloch of Fbbe Tbade.* By 0. Eltzbaeher
Continental Light on the * Unemployed * Pboblbm. By the Bev.
Wilson Carlile ........
Impebial Obganisation and Canadian Onnion. By Sir Frederick
PoUock ........
The Sun and the Bkcent Total Eclipse. By the Bev. Edmund
I^edger ........
Natubal Beauty as a National Asset. By Miss Octama HUl
Childben's Happy Evenings. By the Countess of Jersey
The Victobian Woman. By Mrs. Frederic Harrison .
Some Aspects of the Stage. By Adolphns Vane Tempest
The Depopulation Question in Fbancb. By Charles Dawbcvm
Anothbb Boabd of Guabdians: A Beply to Miss Sellebs.
M. W. Colchester-Wemyss .....
Fbom Dawn to Dabx on the High Zambesi. By A. Trevar-Battye
The Fibb of Bomb and the Chbistlans. By /. C. Tarver
The Deans and the Athanasian Cbeed. By the Bev. W. Crouch
A Guide to the • Statistical Abstbact.' By W. H. MaUoek
The Political Situation. By Herbert Paul
By
468
474
486
501
505
518
524
589
545
561
570
588
600
607
621
684
649
667
667
674
677
706
716
729
785
742
755
768
775
790
796
815
8127
888
858
865
884
900
909
918
985
942
951^
958
966
974
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992
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1008
1028
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THB
NINETEENTH
CENTUEY
AND AFTER
XX
XIX
No. OCOXLI— July 1905
THE COLLAPSE OF RUSSIA
l.—THE INDEMNITY DUE TO JAPAN
Within a few weTeks Russia should be materially unable to continue
the war, but will she conclude peace, or will she, fighting in the Scythian
fashion, as she has threatened, withdraw the remnants of her army
towards Irkutsk, evacuating Manchuria and perhaps Eastern Siberia
as wen ? If the long-discussed Peace Conference should eventually
take place, what will be Russia's attitude and what will be Japan's
demands % When and how will a settlement be effected between the
belligerents, and what will be the consequences of an eventual settle-
ment % Will the present Russo-Japanese War be followed by future
wars between Russia and Japan, and will Manchuria becpme an object
of oentories of strife between the two countries ? These are the most
important political questions of the day, and perhaps of the century
as well, and a few weeks may decide not only the fate of Manchuria —
which, after all, is of very small interest and of still smaller importance
to Europe — but the fate of Russia and of Turkey also. A few weeks
may decide whether Russia will remain a European Power, or whether
ihe will become an Asiatic Power, and whether the dream of the
Vot. LVm— No. 841 B
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2 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT July
Pan-Oennans will remain merely a dream, or whether Germany
will obtain the undisputed hegemony on, if not the absolute mastery
over, the continent of Europe.
Japan has so far not formulated her demands, which are known
only in Tokio. She is exceedingly wise not to put forth her conditions
before Russia not only recognises the absolute necessity of making
peace, but is determined to conclude it quickly. Only at the psycho-
logical moment when Russia recognises that she is beaten and that she
must make peace and must make concessions will Japan say what
she wants, and then she may be sure to obtain without difficulty what
she is entitled to ask for. If she acted differently, she might see
her just claims whittled down bit by bit by the more or less courteous
representations, if not by the pressure, of those Powers which are
more friendly to Russia than they are to Japan, whilst the adverse
comments on the Japanese conditions of peace, which would certainly
be published by the Russophile press of various countries, would
encourage Russia to resist the Japanese demands to the utmost limit
of safety, and to draw out the deUcate peace negotiations almost
indefinitely. Thus the premature announcement of Japan's terms
of peace would at once open the door wide to international intrigues
of a particularly dangerous kind, and such an announcement might
lead not to the hoped-for conclusion of peace, but to the protraction
of the war between Russia and Japan.
Although Japan has hitherto steadfastly refused to make known
her terms of peace even to her best friends and to her own represen-
tatives abroad — ^for no Japanese Ambassador has any information on
this most interesting subject — ^we may fairly accurately gauge the
nature and the scope of Japan's minimum demands which she will
put forth, supposing that peace is speedily concluded.
Japan has fought not a war of aggression and of conquest but a
war in the defence of her national existence, her national integrity,
and her national rights. She has completely defeated Russia on sea
and land, but she has neither the wish to humble Russia to the ground,
nor indeed has she any interest in seeing Russia further weakened
and humbled. On the contrary, events and poUtical combinations
m%ht easily be imagined in which a strong and friendly Russia would
be of great importance to Japan. A strong and fidendly Russia
might, for instance, ^t as a counterpoise to another expanding Power
which might conceivably threaten Japan's independence at some
future date. Revenge has no place in rational poUtics, in which
sentiment can be allowed to occupy only a secondary place, for rational
pohtics are made on the strictest business principles. No nation can
presume to play the part of Providence, and to wield the sword of
justice in punishment over other nations, and Japan has not the
ambition to play the part of Providence to Russia, although she may
providentially have been chosen to awaken that country and to reform
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1905 THE COLLAPSE OF RUSSIA— I 8
it. Theiefoie Japan's aim is not to humiliate Russia, oi to *' punish '*
her, as the fatvourite newspaper phrase runs, but to arrive again at
normal busroess relations, technically called a modus vivendi^ with
her antagonist. Hence Japan fights at present no longer for the
defence of her national existence, but she fights for obtaining an
honourable, and before all a durable, peace.
As the war has, on Japan's side, been a purely defensive war, she
has an undoubted right to daim in the first place full monetary com-
pensation for the expenditure and for the losses to which she has
been put by Russia's aggression. In the second place, she is entitled
to demimd certain substantial guarantees which will make future
attacks, or a war of revenge on Russia's part, unlikely, if not impossible.
It is not easy to form an exact estimate of the monetary indemnity
which Japan may justly claim, for it is doubtful when a treaty of peace
will be ccHiduded and ratified, and every day of delay necessarily adds
a ccmsiderable sum to the amount of compensation which Japan will
eventually claim. However, it is fair to assume that Japan's war
expenditure will approximately be equal to the total amount of her
war loans and the moneys raised by her by other means for and during
the war. To that sum a reasonable amount has to be added as com-
pensation for the losses which Japan has suffered owing to the war,
and for the expenses which are inevitably connected with the military
operations to which Japan will be put after the formal conclusion of
peace.
Japan has so far financed the war by raising the sums contained
in tiie following table : —
Financial Provisions made by Japan for the War.
Yen
BeTonne — sorplnses i^id economies . . . 48,000,000 ^
Receipts from increased taxation and from the
tobacco monopoly 62,000,000 ^
Funds borrowed from varions Government de-
partments and from special accomits . . 55,000,000 ^
Loan issued on the 18th of February, 1904 . 100,000,000
„ 28rdofMay, 1904 . . 100,000,000
„ „ 12th of October, 1904 . . 80,000,000
„ „ 27th of February, 1905 . 100,000,000
„ 20th of April, 1905 . . 100,000,000 ^
Total .... 645^000,000= 64,500,000
Stbblino Loans isbubd in London and Nbw York.
£
Loan issued on the 9th of May, 1904 . . 10,000,000
„ „ 10th of November, 1904 . 12,000,000
„ „ 26th of March, 1905 . 80,000,000
52,000,000
Total :eil6,500,000
' The foregoing figures are the latest which the Finance Department in Tokio sent
out a few months ago, but they may, by now, require revision.
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4 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY July
From the foregoing we see that Japan's actual war expenditure
down to the condusion of the war may be assumed to amount to
116,600,000{., provided the war is speedily brought to a conclusion.
It now remains to add to the foregoing sum a reasonable amount for
the losses which Japan has suffered through the war.
The cripples, widows and orphans who have been made by the
war have evidently to be provided for either by the nation or by the
local bodies or by their friends. As local bodies and relatives have
not always the means to aid those who, through the war, have become
dependent on them, it appears incumbent on Japan to establish a
national invalids' fund, on the annuity system, for the support of war
invalids, widows and orphans. However, whether a national invalids'
fund for granting annuities be created or whether the support of the
victims of the war be left to private and to local initiative is im-
material. The loss to the nation is equally great, however the question
of the war invalids may be treated, and that loss has to be allowed
for and has evidently to be made good by Russia, who has caused
that loss.
In the absence of statistics as to the number of totally and partiy
disabled Japanese cripples and of widows and orphans who are sufferers
through the war, it is not easy to estimate with any degree of exactness
the compensation which is due to them. We have therefore to make
a rough estimate, for which we may use the convenient precedent
case which is furnished by the Franco-German War of 1870-71.
During that war the Qermans lost by wounds and disease only 2,058
officers and 47,320 non-commissioned officers and privates. The
losses of the Japanese in the present war have no doubt been very
much greater than those of the Germans. After the conclusion of the
war Germany created a national invalids' fund amounting to
28,050,0001., and set aside in addition 1,513,4661. for pensions, and
897,6002. for additional payments to invalids. These sums were
found ludicrously insufficient, and the pensions, which in many cases
amounted to only 6d. per day and less, had to be raised.
Whilst the number of cripples and of widows and orphans made
by the Russo-Japanese War is undoubtedly very much greater than
that made by the Franco-German War, the cost of Uving in Japan
is considerably smaller than was the cost of living in (Germany in 1871.
We may therefore conclude that a sum of 30,000,000?. should approxi-
mately suffice for maint>aining the cripples, widows and orphans of
Japan whom the war has made.
The Russo-Japanese War resembles the Franco-German War in
this, that neither Germany nor Japan was -invaded by the enemy.
Consequentiy the losses caused by the war to the civilian population
of (Germany and Japan are to some extent comparable. The Grerman
Government, which formerly exercised the most rigid economy, and
which after the last war was exceedingly careful in awarding
Digitized by VjOOQlC
1905 THE COLLAPSE OF BUS 81 A— I 6
oompensation to its citizens, paid after the Franco-Oerman War
5,665,0001. for damages caused by the war, and 840,0002. by way of
oompensation to the Grerman shipowners. However, whilst during
1870-71 only the comparatively unimportant seaward trade of Germany
was to some extent dislocated by the French Navy during a few
months, the Russo-Japanese War has affected the whole of Japan's
trade during almost a year and a half. Besides, all the industries
and the whole conmierce of Japan are by the configuration of the
country dependent on the seaward trade. Hence the whole body
economic of Japan has suffered severely through the rise in the
prices of freight and insurance, insufficiency of shipping, &c., and the
consequent rise in the prices of indispensable raw materials such as
cotton, wool, iron, manure, food stuffs, &c.
The scarcity and the deamess of the most necessary raw materials
required by Japan was specially increased by Russia's action, who
declared practically all imports into Japan to be contraband of war
and proceeded to sink ships laden with rice, raw cottim, timber, fish
manure, Sec. By this proceeding, which it is difficult to describe in
temperate language, Russia has done considerable harm to Japan
and some injury to the neutral Powers, but she will have to pay for
the unjustifiable damage which she has done by her high-Iuuided
proceedings. The damage which the civil population of Japan has
suffered through the war with Russia is no doubt very much greater
tiian that which was caused to the civil population of Germany during
tiie war of 1870-71, and Japan's claim under that head should amount
to at least 15,000,000Z.
Although Japan has no reason to include in this claim a claim for
the losses which neutral Powers have suffered at the hands of Russia
by the unwarranted interference with, and destruction of, their
shipping, Japan might conceivably include such a claim in hers, as
Russia appears determined'to pay for the unjustified and unjustifiable
destruction of foreign property only if she is compelled to do
so. Such action on the part of Japan would be distinctly novel, but
it would furnish a salutary precedent, and a warning to all those
Powers who consider that Alight is Right. The Russians have a
proverb, ' A handful of might is better than a sackful of right,' which
has been the guiding principle of the diplomacy of various Powers
who have taken Russia for a model. Perhaps Japan's action might
lead to the abandonment of that unlovely principle in many cases and
to an improvement of international morality.
We must further allow for the wear and tear of war material
whidi has to be renewed, for the expense of the civil administration
of Manchuria, for the additional expenditure thrown on the Japanese
State railways, posts, and telegraphs through the war, for war gratuities,
and we must especially allow for the very heavy costs of bringing
the army back to Japan and reducing it from the war establishment to
Digitized by VjOOQIC
6 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY July
the peace footing. For all these items, and for the various unforeseen
expenses which are always exceedingly heavy after a great war,
20,000,0002. might prove sufficient.
If we now sum up the various items mentioned in the foregoing,
we find that the minimum of Japan's actual expenditure for the war
and the financial losses which she has suffered through the war are as
follows :
£
Moneys raised for the war by loans and otherwise . . 116,500,000
Compensation for partly and wholly disabled cripples
and for widows and orphans 80,000,000
Compensation to civil population for damages suffered
through mobilisation, loss in trado, &c. . . . 15,000,000
Wear and tear of war material, liquidation of the war,
and various expenses 20,000,000
Total £181,500,000
The foregoing sum of 181,500,0002. appears to be the minimum
which Japan may be expected to claim ^om Russia, provided the war
be immediately brought to a close. But Japan is perfectly entitled to
demand considerably more than her war expenditure, and compen-
sation for her losses caused by the war, and she may choose to follow
the precedent which Germany has set in 1871. According to the
eminent German statistician, Georg Friedrich Eolb, the war of 1870-71
cost Germany only 51,000,000Z. ; according to Sir Robert GifEen
Germany's actual war expenses amounted to 60,000,000i. Neverthe-
less Germany extorted from France no less than 200,000,0002. in the
form of an indemnity, and she obtained besides this sum 12,047,6782.
interest on the war indemnity, 8,000,0002. contribution of Paris, and
about 28,000,0002. was exacted from the occupied departments by way
of forced contributions, taxes, fines, indenmities, &c. Grermany took
from France four times more than the actual costs of the war, and,
following Germany's precedent, Japan is perfectly justified if she
claims a round 200,000,0002. from Russia, and employs the balance
above her actual outlay and losses for the peaceful development of
Japan and especially of Korea, where railways, harbours, telegraphs,
roads, schools, industries, &;c., have to be created, and where good
government has to be introduced.
IMore or less authorised spokesmen of the Russian Government
have declared that Russia might evacuate Manchuria, but that she
would not pay an indemnity to Japan, and some of the highest poUtical
and financial authorities of France have recentiy assured me that
Russia would not, or rather could not, pay an adequate monetar}
compensation to Japan. It is, of course, quite clear that Russia cannot
raise 200,000,0002. at home, and it is very likely that the raising of that
immense sum, or of only 181,500,000/., might prove a matter of con-
siderable difficulty to her. Still, Russia will have to pay the indemnity
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1905 THE COLLAPSE OF BUS 81 A— I 7
for the damage which she has done, and she will be able to raise it
somehow, although she may have to give some tangible securily to her
deditors, saoh as the Customs reoeipts or the spirit monopoly or those
of tiie State railways which return a profit. Other States, such as
Turkey, Egypt, Qreece, Argentina, &o., have had to do so before her.
If Russia refuses to pay what Japan will soon claim, and
chooses to continue the war * to the bitter end,' the end will indeed
be bitter for her, for Japan's bill will rapidly grow, and Russia may
later on not only have to give securities in pledge to her creditors,
bat may besides be compelled to sell her State forests and mines to
syndicates of foreign capitalists.
If Russia waits very much longer and allows Japan's bill to grow
still further, Russia may not be able to satisfy Japan's claims by
pawning and selling part of the national property and revenues, and
she may be compelled to repudiate part of her foreign debt, which
amounts to about 600,000,0001. By assigning the interest of about
20,000,0001. paid on her foreign debt to the service of a new debt,
Russia might be able to raise without great dif&culty the funds which
she will require in order to satisfy the demands of Japan.
It may be objected by Russia and by her friends that Russia
cannot raise 200,000,000?., or even 181,600,0001., after a costly wid
exhaustive war. To this objection the Japanese will be able to reply
that it is not their fault that Russia's aggression proved costly and
exhaustive to her, and they will be able to point out that Russia can
find the money which she will have to pay, although the necessary
addition to her debt may prove exceedingly onerous. They may tell
her also that France, Russia's ally, went through an exceedingly
trying financial ordeal thirty-four years ago, and that Russia will
have to do likewise.
The Franco-Gterman War caused France a direct loss of more than
400,000,000{. in money alone, but that disastrous war cost that
country altogether probably more than 800,000,000/. The first war
loan of France cost that country 4*99 per cent. ; the second war loan,
the Morgan loan, was raised at 7*42 per cent. ; the third cost 6*29 per
c^it., and the fourth 6*06 per cent. The foregoing figures suffice to
show that the Franco-Qerman War was ruinously costly to France,
and that France could faise the money she required only with consider-
able difficulty. Owing to the war, French Rentes fell below 50, whilst
Russian 4 per cent, stocks stand still near 90. Evidently the Russian
finandal position, although it is bad, compares not unfavourably with
the financial position of France in 1871, and there is still much room
left for a further deterioration of Russia's financial position and for a
fall in the quotation of the Russian Government Stocks. Owing to
the war, the funded debt of France rose from 447,120,901Z. in 1869
to no less than 937,584,2802. in 1875, and the annual interest to be
paid thereon, which was only 13,917,319!. in 1869, more than doubled
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8 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY July
in thiee years owing to the war, and stood in 1872 at no less than
29,493,1492. Before 1870 France had indulged in over-borrowing,
exactly as Russia had done before 1904. Nevertheless France ?ras
able to bear her enormously increased financial burden, and Russia
will have to do hkewise. Russia, who has a yearly Budget of con-
siderably more than 200,000,0002., can easily find an additional
10,000,0001. by taxing her wealthy and wasteful nobility somewhat
more heavily. But Russia need not necessarily introduce any addi-
tional taxation. She need only rearrange her accounts and transfer
10,000,0001. from her immense yearly expenditure on her army, her
navy, and her strategical railways to the service of her foreign debt.
Russia can undoubtedly raise 200,000,0001., and she could raise that
sum easily if foreign capitalists felt convinced that their hard-earned
money was no longer spent by Russia in vain attempts to conquer
Asia.
Russia's present financial position greatly resembles that of France
in 1871. During the reign of Napoleon the Third the numerous
unnecessary wars of France in Italy, North Africa, Mexico, and
China had added several hundred miUion pounds to the French
National Debt. The finances of France had fallen into great dis-
order. The Economist of the 11th of February, 1871, well sums up
France's financial position at the end of the Franco-Gferman War as
follows :
During the Empire there was a chronic deficit. The debt was constantly
accomulating, while every kind of capital resource was forestalled by the
successive Finance Ministers. . . . For twenty years there had been a chronic
deficit. The annual expenditure had increased upwards of 80,000,0002., the
annual charge for the debt 10,000,0002.
If France could bear her burden after twenty years of poUtical
adventure and financial recklessness, Russia should be able to do
likewise.
Some Russians argue that Russia could raise 200,000,000!. if she
was so minded, but that Russia has not the slightest intention to
alter her expansionist policy, that she wants all the money she can
raise for her own purposes, that she would pay Japan only if she
was compelled to do so, and that Japan cannot compel Russia to pay
her an indemnity. They point out that (Germany could extort a
heavy indemnity from France only because Germany was able to
hold valuable French territory as a security, until the last centime
was paid, and they feci confident that Japan cannot seize valuable
Russian territory and hold it as a security.
Those Russian statesmen who affect to think that Russia may,
with impimity, draw out the war at wiU, and refuse to pay a war
indemnity to Japan because Japan cannot seize valuable Russian
property as a security for eventual payment, are mistaken. Eastern
Siberia is worth considerably more than ^00,000,0002. to Japan
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1905 THE COLLAPSE OF BUS 81 A— I 9
m to those to whom Japan might conceivably chooee to cede that
ooontry or certain privileges in that country.
If Eastern Siberia was loyally Russian, if it was densely popu-
lated, and if its wealth was fuUy developed, it would not be worth
taking ; but it is worth taking, as it has an enormous latent wealth
and is aknoet a desert. On the four million square miles of Eastern
Siberia there arc only about two million people, of whom many are
the desoendants of convicts and political exiles who are not over-
loyal to Russia. There are only ten people to every twenty square
miles in Siberia, whilst in Russia proper more than a thousand people
may be found on every twenty square miles. Japan might therefore
find it profitable to p^ out a sphere of interest in Siberia, and either
cok>nise it alone with her abundant population, eating slowly her
way into the Russian cake from the sea border, or people and exploit
the country in partnership with China, who would be glad to have
an outlet for her teeming surplus population.
Siberia is the wealthiest part of Russia, and under a good govern-
ment it would soon become populous and exceedingly prosperous.
BSaatern Siberia has perhaps the best grazing grounds in the world.
It possesses a first-class black agricultural soil, it is very rich in
minerals, and it possesses the richest fisheries in the world. If Russia
sliould think Eastern Siberia not worth 200,000,000{., Japan may
tiiink it cheap at the price, and she would probably be able to extract
200,000,00(M. in money from that country wittdn a few years by
giving to an English or an American syndicate a few concessions
for building railways in Siberia or for exploiting the mineral wealth
of the soil Russia may conceivably adopt a Scythian pohcy by
refusing to pay a war indemnity to Japan, and she may end the war
by refusing to fight any longer and by withdrawing her tropps and her
civil administration towards the Lake Baikal ; but she will find that
policy not a profitable one, and she may in the end, against her will,
become a Central Asiatic Power, as will be shown later on.
The foregoing will make it clear that Russia cannot evade paying
the Japanese war indenmity, unless she is willing to evacuate not only
Manchuria but the whole of Eastern Siberia as well.
Japan wishes not only to obtain monetary compensation for tiie
expenses which she has had to incur in her defence and fpr the losses
which her people have suffered through the war, but she naturally
desires to obtain some substantial guarantees that Russia will not
break the peace in the future. Before all, she wishes to guard
against being attacked by Russia when that Power believes itself
strong enough to defeat Japan.
Japan has probably no desire to acquire Russian territory, although
she may be forced by Russia to seize Russian territory if
her opponent should refuse to pay Japan an adequate indemnity.
At the same time Japan cannot be expected to allow Port A^hur
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10 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT July
and VladivoBtok to lemain Ruflsia's sally ports in the dangerous
vicinity of her coast. The Sea of Japan must remain a Japanese
sea. If Russia should think of revenge, she would soon convert
Port Arthur and Vladivostok into the most powerful war harbours
in the world, and these two ports would become a source of constant
anxiety to Japan, Japan would therefore not be able to disarm,
and she would have to be prepared sooner or later to renew the struggle
witiii her present antagonist on a still more formidable scale. The
present state of war would be followed by an equally exhaustive
state of permanent tension between the two countries. Japan
wishes for peace, for a lasting peace. Hence she cannot possibly
allow Port Arthur and Vladivostok to be a continual menace to her.
Nobody expects that Japan will give up Port Arthur a second
time, and it is freely asserted that Japan will insist that Vladivostok
should either be ceded to Japan, or that its fortifications should
be destroyed, or that Russia ^uld pledge herself not to keep any
warships at Vladivostok during a lengthy term of years.
In view of the historic character of Russian pledges Japan will
probably not find it in her interest to rely on a parchment treaty
for her security from a Russian attack, but will demand stronger
guarantees for her safety.
The name Vladivostok signifies ' Mistress of the East,' and Vladi-
vostok was acquired, founded, fortified and equipped in order to
make Russia the mistress of the East. The story of Vladivostok's
acquisition is a very peculiar and a very interesting one. It is ex-
ceedingly characteristic of Russian diplomacy, and, as it is almost
unknown to the present generation, it is worth re-telling, especially
as the history of Vladivostok may eventually determine its fate.
Forty-five years ago the English and French were at war with China,
and the allies marched on Pekin. Sir Hope Grant and General
Montauban, who later on was created Count Palikao, commanded
the expedition. The commanders were greatly troubled by their
unacquaintance with Chinese affairs and by the shiftiness of the
Chinese. To their delight they were joined by a charming young
Russian officer of the guards, one Nicholai Pavlovitch Ignatief, who
was twenty-eight years old, who spoke French and English to per-
fection, and who had a marvellous knowledge of matters Chinese.
He provided the commanders with maps, with valuable information
which led to the taking of Pekin, and he made himself generally
indispensable. Thus he became the companipn, friend, and con-
fidential adviser to the commanders of the expedition. When the
allies had taken Pekin and had destroyed the Summer Palace in order
to avenge the murder of the European envoys, and when the Emperor
of China had taken to flight, Ignatief succeeded easily in persuading
the terrified Chinese that the allies had come to expel the reigning
dynasty and to subject China to themselves. He told them that
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1906 THE COLLAPSE OF BUSSIA—I 11
tiie EngliBli and French meant to stay in Pekin pennanently, and
that nothing would tom them back. China's only hope lay in securing
the intervention of a strong European Power friendly to China, such
as Russia. He, Ignatief, would be the mediator between the Chinese
and the foreign intruders. He alone was able to cause the foreign
troops to withdraw, and he would make them retire from Pekin,
provided the Chinese would cede to Russia the north bank of the
Amur and the whole of the Ussuri province — which on English maps
is now called the Maritime Province — which reaches from the mouth
of the Amur down to tiiie Corean frontier, and which includes the
territory where Vladivostok now stands. The Chinese, who were
ahnoet frightened out of their wits by the presence of the allies and
by their violence, willingly ceded to Russia the territory which
Ignatief desired, with six hundred miles of coast-line ; and only a
year later Prince Eung accidentaUy discovered that the allies had
had no intention of occupying Pekin permanently, that Ignatief
had done China no service whatsoever, and that Russia had obtained
a valuable Chinese province by fraud.
From the foregoing it is clear that Russia has morally and legally
no right to the Maritime Province and to Vladivostok ; and if Russia
should provoke Japan or delay negotiations much further, the latter
cotmtry may insist on the retrocession of the Maritime Province
to its rightful owners. At any rate, the Russians will have to march
warily unless they wish to be compelled to cede to the Chinese not
only Manchuria but to make good to them an older and perhaps
a greater wrong.
Whether the Japanese will or wiU not take Vladivostok, whether
they will dismantle it or allow it to remain a fortress, depends
probably entirely on the way in which the Russians meet the
Japanese demands. Therefore the question of Vladivostok may
be considered an open one. If the Japanese should demand the
cession of the island of Saghalien (and probably they will raise that
demand and will obtain that island), they will dominate all the
narrow straits which lead to Vladivostok, and they will therefore
dominate Vladivostok itself. Hence Japan can afford to be generous
with regard to Vladivostok, and use it as a pawn in the peace
negotiations.
Saghalien used to be Japanese ; but in the early days of the Meji
era, when Japan was too weak to resbt, Saghalien was taken from
Japan by the Russians, who used then against the Japanese the same
questionable tactics by which they deprived China of the Ussuri
province and of Manchuria and Japan of the Liaotung peninsula.
It appears a matter of course that Japan wiU insist on the cession
of Saghalien— which, by the bye, has little value for Russia, and which
18 used by Russia only for the deportation of her most dangerous
criminals. For strategical reasons SaghaUen is a necessity to Japan,
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12 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY July
and that island belongs by its position as logically to Japan as the
Isle of Man does to England. A glance at the map shows that it
is an integral part of Japan.
If peace be concluded immediately, Japan may be satisfied with
the evacuation of Manchuria, the cession of Saghalien, and the pay-
ment of a war indemnity of 200,000,0001. The question of Vladi-
vostok and that of the Manchurian railway are minor ones, and they
may be used as make-weights on either side. But if Russia chooses,
as she has threatened, to continue the war, Japan's demands will,
from day to day and from week to week, necessarily become greater.
It is only natural that Japan will increase her demand the longer
Russia resists an equitable settlement.
The Russians should take warning from the experience of the
French. On the 19th of September 1870, seventeen days after tiie
Battle of Sedan, Jules Favre, the Fr^ich Minister of Foreign Affairs,
had a conversation with Prince Bismarck in order to ascertain Qer-
manjr's conditions of peace. Bismarck then demanded, if I remember
rightly, only the cession of Alsace and the sum of 80,000,0001. ;
but, as Favre dramatically refused to cede ' an inch of French grotmd
or a stone of our fortresses,' the negotiations fell through, and the
war continued. Six weeks later, on the 31st of October, Adolphe
Thiers approached Bismarck in order to conclude peace. His mission
also was unsuccessful, but meanwhile Germany's demands had risen,
and Bismarck asked now for Alsace and 120,000,0001. in money.
In December 1870 Bismarck declared that he would now require
160,000,000?. in money. At last, in February 1871, the peace
negotiations were successful, but then Germany demanded and
obtained not only Alsace but Lorraine as well, and 200,000,0002.
in cash.
If Russia honestly wishes to conclude the war with Japan, she
will be well advised to do so quickly. To continue a hopeless war
is a very costly luxury, even for Ae richest country, and Russia
should remember that every day adds about 500,0001. to the bill
which Russia will eventually have to pay to Japan. Every day
means therefore an additional burden to every Russian taxpayer.
According to Russian official and semi-official declarations,
Russia is not yet beaten. The destruction of her fleets, the capture
of Port Arthur, the uninterrupted series of disastrous defeats of her
armies are stated to be only passing incidents. The Russian army
in Manchuria unanimously and indignantly protests against President
Roosevelt's mediation and against the conclusion of peace. According
to Greneral Linievitch's curious telegram, which reads as if it had
been composed not in Manchuria but in St. Petersburg, the Russian
army confronting the Japanese is ready to sweep the Japanese into
the sea, and is only too anxious to be allowed to do so. Hence
President Roosevelt's attempts at mediation are not welcomed with
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1905 THE COLLAPSE OF BU8SIA—I 18
joy, and not even with relief by the Bnssian Gh>yeniment. On the
contrary, after endless and totally oncalled-for formalities and delays,
which wiD cost Russia at least 10,000,0001. when Japan presents
her bill of costs, the proposals made to Russia were ^ examined ' as
if Japan, not Russia, had been utterly defeated and was asking for
peace. Apparently the Russian statesmen wish to uphold the fiction
of Russia's might for a few weeks longer at the cost of perhaps
50,000 lives, and they proclaim that they can continue the war
becaose they can still send several hundred thousand men to certain
defeat.
Rtissia has fought Japan on the sea and she has been defeated,
she has fought Japan on land and she has been defeated, but still
she hopes to defeat Japan, believing that Japan's financial resources
will give way before Russia is exhausted. That belief seems not
to be justified. Both Russia and Japan are comparatively poor
countries, but Japan has proved herself by far the more energetic,
Uie more intelligent, the more gifted, and the more industrious one
of tiie two ; and, after all, the most precious possession of a nation is
ihe wealth-creating labour of the people. Whilst Russia has remained
poor, notwithstanding her immense latent wealth which for centuries
has remained latent, Japan is rapidly becoming wealthy, notwith-
standing the great natural disadvantages of the country. Hence
it comes that whilst Russia cannot at present borrow money either
at home or abroad, Japan is able to raise mcmey at home and abroad
to continue the war until Russia is bankrupt. Although Russia is
nearer to Europe than is Japan, European investors open their purses
to the Japanese, but close them to the Russians. Russia's last and
only financial resource is confiscation, and ab-eady voices are heard
which advocate the plundering of the treasures which are accumulated
in the Russian churches and monasteries. But will confiscation
supply the necessary funds for canying on the war and the govern-
ment if, as appears to be the case, the people are making an organised
attempt to refuse paying the taxes ? Russia's mihtary strength and
Rosoia's financial strength are equally exhausted, notwithstanding
linievitch's boastful telegram, and notwithstanding the numerous
official and semi-official assertions that Russia's finances will allow her
to continue the war for years. The finesse and the bluS of Russian
diplomacy have become equally useless. ' U y a quelqu'un qui a
plus d'esprit que Monsieur de Talleyrand, c'est Monsieur Tout le
Monde.'
The. attitude of the Russian (Government during the present crisis
aeons at first sight incomprehensible. It persists in carrying on
tii6 most ruinous and the most disastrous war through which Russia
has ever passed, notwithstanding its hopelessness and notwithstanding
the dangerous opposition of the whole nation. Russia's statesmen
have apparently lost their heads, and seem incapable to form a decision
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14 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT July
at perhaps the most critical period in Russia's history. However,
the fault lies not so much with the leading individuab as with the
faultiness of the system of the Russian Gh>yemment, which cries
loudly for immediate reform. Russia is ruled by absolutism, and
a country which is so governed requires either a personal ruler of
talent and energy, such as Peter the Great, or an impersonal ruler
such as Catherine the Second or William the First of Germany, who
allows a man of talent and energy to rule in his stead, and who loyally
and unflinchingly supports that man against his enemies and de-
tractors. In all cotmtries which are ruled by one person or by one
set of persons there is a continuily of poUcy, but in an autocracy
which is neither ruled by the autocrat, nor by a llinister, nor by
an acknowledged favourite, even if that favourite be a barber or
a mistress, but in which those people direct the policy of the State
who for a fleeting moment gain the ear of the monarch, confusion
takes the place of a poUcy, and that is unfortunately the case in
Russia.
Bismarck used to say, ^In order to be able to gauge the drift
of Russia's policy one must always know who the man is who, for
the time being, has the greatest influence over the Tsar.' At present
there is unhappily no man, but there are many men, and a few women,
who have at the same time influence over the most important decisions
in Russia. Hence the state of Russia may be summed up in
Napoleon's dictum, 'Ordre, Contre-ordre, Contre-contre-ordre,
Desordre.' If Russia wishes to extricate the ship of State out of the
perils which beset it, nothing is more necessary than a man at the
helm.
The present Tsar means well, but he is weak, and he is easily
influenced. He is a man ' der stets das Gute will und stets das Bose
schafft.' By his very goodness and weakness, and owing to the
many different mutually antagonistic and purely self-seeking influences
which surround him, he is unfitted for the direction of the ship of
State at the present crisis. He should therefore determinedly with-
draw the question of war and peace from the intrigue-laden atmo-
sphere of the Court, and should either command his Minister of Foreign
Affairs to conclude peace within a specific number of days at the
best terms that can be obtained by him, or he should entrust absolute
power for concluding peace to an able, patriotic, highly placed and
wealthy man whose position and whose assured future enable him
to act with perfect independence, who could not be interfered with
before and during the peace negotiations, and who should be told
that he would not in any way be held responsible for the manner
in which he should think good to conclude peace. Furthermore,
until peace be concluded the Russian Press should be absolutely
forbidden to discuss the question of peace and war in any way. If
these measures be taken, peace might soon be hoped for.
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1905 THE COLLAPSE OF BU8SIA—I 15
Lately telegrams nave appeared in the newspapers which announce
that the Japanese and Russian delegates would meet in the middle of
August or iu the beginning of September in Washington, which then
is so intolerably hot that it is an almost deserted city, that the Pre-
sident would provide two warships to convey the peace delegates to
some summer resort, &c. From those telegrams we might conclude
tiiat the envoys whom Russia and Japan propose to send would come
like a party of Cook's tourists, who would travel to America not for
business, but in order to enjoy a lengthy holiday. The Russo-
Japanese peace negotiations will hardly be arranged in that manner,
and tiiiey will probably take up only a very few days.
That the Russian statesmen in their perplexity may wish to
stave off the evil day and the final settlement of the war as long as
possible, hoping that some miracle will happen which will save Russia
from the result of her past mistakes, can easily be understood. A
long delay in concluding peace may suit those Russian diplomats
who make a patchwork hand-to-mouth policy from day to day, who
merely mark time with pompous bustle, and who leave the direction
of afEairs to the more or less occult and ever- varying Court influences.
The Russians may therefore endeavour to delay the settlement
of the war as much as possible, hoping for an intervention which
wUl not take place ; but such a delay will suit neither the Japanese
Government nor the Russian people, who in the end will have to pay
very dearly for that delay. Japan may possibly, though not probably,
grant an armistice to Russia, but she will have to maintain her armies
in Manchuria until she can bring peace from the field of battle. Other-
wise Russian diplomacy will try by its usual finesse to deprive Japan
of the fruits of her victory. Japan can therefore concede an armistice
to Russia only if she has valuable guarantees in hand which ensure
that Russia means really to make peace and to act honourably by
Japan. Such guarantees could be furnished by Russia by her evacuat-
ing two or tiiree of the forts which command Vladivostok, and by
her allowing them to be occupied by the Japanese until peace is
conduded.
If Russia reckons on the intervention of her friends, hoping that
a long delay may bring some Power to her aid, she will reckon in vain.
It is true that it is the vital interest of France to see Russia strengthened
against Germany, who at present dominates the Continent, but it is
in no way in the interests of Germany to abandon once more her lead-
ing position on the Continent in order to please Russia and to have
her own liberty of action curtailed by the dead we^ht of the Northern
Colossus. It therefore appears that if the question arises whether
diplomatic aid should be granted to Russia, Germany and France will
hardly see eye to eye. Besides, Germany and France could hardly
intervene witiii success in faivour of Russia unless tiiese two Powers
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16 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY July
should be able to gain over either Great Britain or the United States,
and such an event appears to be highly improbable.
^ It is also true that it is the interest of England that the balance of
power on the continent of Europe, which now is completely disturbed,
should rapidly be restored, and that England must wish to see Russia's
power as rapidly as possible strengthened. Nevertheless, Gieat
Britain can do nothing for Russia, whatever France and Germany
may plead in her favour, until peace has been concluded between
Russia and Japan. It would be treason if Great Britain should now
abandon her ally, or if she tried to bring undue pressure upon her
ally in the interests of Russia. Such a course is not to be thought of ;
and if Russian diplomats think that they may be able to win over
England by certain tempting concessions in Asia or by the hope of
an Anglo-Franco-Rusfflan alliance, they only deceive themselves.
Great Britain will certainly gladly strengthen and support Russia in
her own interests, but she will only do so when Russia has settled her
differences with Japan.
Russia is still fairly strong in Asia, whither she has transported a
large quantity of her arms and ammunition. But in Europe Russia
is powerless, and she is practically disarm^. There are plenty of
soldiers, of horses, and of guns still massed on her western frontiers,
facing Grermany, Austria-Hungary, and Turkey, whose business it
is not so much to protect the frontiers of Russia as to protect
Russia's interests in Constantinople; but these forces are useless
except when acting as police for suppressing revolts, Ac. In the
first place, the larger proportion of Russia's army in Europe is
required to maintain order in tiiie country and to protect the dynasty
against revolutionary outbreaks, and these soldiers cannot be with-
drawn from the interior of Russia ; in the second place, Russia's
stores of ammunition in Europe both for guns and for rifles are pro-
bably exhausted by the drain towards Manchuria ; in the third place,
the Russian people are neither willing nor able to stand the stndn of
anotiiier war except for the defence of Russian territory against an
invader; in the fourth place, another war following soon upon the
Japanese War might mean not only the financial bankruptcy of Russia,
but her political and national bankruptcy as well.
In consequence of this extremely serious state of affairs, Russia
in Europe has lost her former position, and her voice has now hardly
any weight with other nations. Germany, Austria-Hungary, and
Turkey know that Russia cannot harm them, that one army corps or
two should be sufficient to protect them against any force which
Russia can at present bring into the field. Even the Asiatic tribes
and pseudo-nations which border upon Russia begm to look upon her
with undisguised contempt. Russia may consider herself lucky if
the year closes without serious troubles in her vast dominions, and
without the loss of one or the other of her outlying possessions.
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1905 THE COLLAPSE OF BUS SI A— I 17
Busaia has spent the best of her strength in Asia, and has left her
far more valuable European interests to the tender meroiee of her
pohtical and commercial competitors, who are always loud in pro-
testing their friendship. Having hunted the shadow, Russia may
lose the substance. The problem of Austria-Hungary or the Turkish
problem may, for all we know, soon come up for settlement, but Russia
will not be consulted except pro formd. The preponderant position of
Russia in the Balkan Peninsula will certainly temporarily be lost, and
Russian influence replaced by various other influences which are nomin-
ally, but not really, friendly to Russia. Qermany will probably
greatly strengthen her hold on Turkey, and Constantinople will cer-
tainly fall under a non-Russian influence, and may conceivably pass
into other hands. Tet Russia will not be able to move. She will
only be able to protest, but her protests will not be heeded. Russia
has fallen low indeed, but she may fall still lower unless she soon
makes peace.
Russia, who but yesterday was considered to be the strongest
Power in Europe — but by no means the strongest Power in Asia —
has fallen so low because she has not been true to herself. At the
bidding of Western adventurers and Western intriguers, who, by their
deeds confessed themselves to be Russia's ^lemies, she has thrown to
the winds the policy and the traditions of Peter the Great, who created
modem Russia, and of Catherine the Second, who continued Peter
ihe Great's poHoy.
Peter the Great found Russia an Asiatic Power excluded from
the maritimft borders of Europe, and he left her a European Power
with a sea coast. He organised Russia, introduced European culture,
and destroyed the power of the Swedes who hampered Russia's march
westward. He won for his country Esthonia and Livonia, and the
very territory on which St. Petersburg now stands, and he founded
St. Petersbu^, which was to be the window through which Russia
should study and watch the civilised West, and through which the
Western sun and Western culture should freely flow into Russia.
Peter's immediate successors pushed Russia's frontier forward
in the direction of the Black Sea, which was then a purely Moham-
medan lake from which Russia was excluded. Catiiierine the
Second, true to the tradition of her great predecessor, extended
Russia's frontiers towards the south and west. She conquered the
whole northern shore of the Black Sea, converted it into a Russian
lake, and moved Russia's centre of gravity still further westward by
gaining for Russia her huge and wealthy western provinces.
From 1689, the year when Peter tiie Great ascended the throne,
to 1796, when Catiiierine died, or during 107 years, Russia moved
constantly and consciously westward, striving to become a Western
Power, finding her greatest interests in the West, and considering
OoQstantinople her goal.
Vol. LVIU— No. 841 C
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18 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY July
From 1800 down to the present day, or during 105 years, Russia's
policy has been completely reversed. Russia has almost completely
abandoned her traditional poUcy and her historic aim, and has, on the
whole, though unconsciously, been marching eastward. If Russia
does not alter her policy and her course she may become an Asiatic,
and perhaps a Central Asiatic, Power again.
For 100 years, up to the death of Catherine the Second, Russia
and England had been friends, but when the half-witted Paul the
First was on the throne Russia broke with her traditional friend.
Napoleon the First, who was determined that Russia should not take
Constantinople, fearing that Constantinople would give Russia the
dominion of the world, induced Paul the First to break up the Anglo-
Russian Alliance, and incited him to make a mad attempt against
India. In 1800 Napoleon submitted to Paul the First plans for a
joint expedition against India, but it could not be carried out because
in the following year the Tsar was assassinated. His successor,
Alexander the First, had the ambition to possess himself of Con-
stantinople, and, after the celebrated interview in Tilsit in 1806,
Napoleon made Alexander the First also a proposal for attacking
India, suggesting to him that the EngUsh would allow him to take
Constantinople if they saw India threatened. Since 1806, down to
1906, Russia's poUcy was, with rare and short intervals, always actively
hostile to this country ; for 100 years all the enemies of England have
in turn used Russia sks their tool, and have persuaded that country
that the road to Constantinople was via India. Thus Russia has,
against her wiU, been pushed into her boundless Asiatic adventures.
Not Alexief , Bezobrazof , Europatkin, LamsdorfE were responsible
for the Russo-Japanese war and for Russia's disasters, for they were
only the obedient tools of a higher will ; nor was the war caused or
brought about by the ' perfidy ' of Great Britain, as some of Russia's
Continental friends have so often and so very loudly proclaimed —
although they have never brought any proof — that Russia could not
help hearing it. The Russo-Japanese war was caused by Napoleon the
First and his disciples Talleyrand, Bismarck, and some Uving per-
sonages who do not wish well to England. When the secret history
of the Russo-Japanese war comes to be written it will become clear
that Great Britain did her best to avert the war, and it will appear
that the authors of the Russo-Japanese war not only hoped that
Russia would bleed to death in Asia, but that they did their best to
draw France and Great Britain also into the struggle, in the hope that
they would tear one another to pieces, and that they did everytldng
in their power in order to attain that end.
Russia's possessions in Eastern Asia are no doubt valuable, and
in due time they may become very valuable to Russia. Nevertheless
the four miUion square miles which Russia owns in Eastern Asia are
hardly worth as much to her as would be the four square miles on
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1906 THE COLLAPSE OF RUSSIA— I 19
which Constantinople stands. Russia has spent her best energies
and countless millions of money npon her East Asiatic possessions.
With a much smaller eiSort, and but a fraction of her East Asiatic
expenditure, she might, with some good managing, have possessed
herself of Constantinople. Had it not been for Russia's constant
aggressiveness and for her deliberately anti-British policy in Asia,
Great Britain and Russia might long ago have arrived at an under-
standing about Constantinople, and the Crimean war and the revision
of the Treaty of San Stefano at the Congress of Berlin would probably
not have taken place.
During the last fifty years almost the whole energy of Russia and
countless millions of her money were spent in Asia on fantastic and
unproductive enterprises. The Russian staff and Russian military
writers considered and studied only two wars : a war with the Triple
Alliance for the possession of Constantinople and a war with England
for the possession of India. The possibility of a war with Japan
was left out of account, and was not studied by the Russian staff
and by Russian military writers. Hence, Russia was completely
unprepared for her struggle with Japan. Russia has wasted her
wealth and her strength in Asia, instead of husbanding her resources
and using them for an attainable, a worthy, a legitimate, and a national
end. Russia's greatest interests lie undoubtedly in the Balkan
Peninsula and in Europe, but these interests have been neglected
and imperilled. Still, Russia may recreate herself if she wishes to
remain a European Power, and may save her historic position.
It is no disgrace to Russia that she has been defeated by Japan,
and it would also not have been a disgrace to her if she had been
defeated in trjring to conquer India. Japan, China, and India are
too far removed from Russia's centre of gravity and from Russia's
seat of power. Russia cannot possibly strike in Asia with all her
national force. Russia's strength Ues in Europe ; and Russia would
very likely have found a war with the combined forces of the Triple
Alliance, for which she was prepared, an easier undertaking than a
war against far-away Japan, the possibility of which had not been
contemplated.
What should be Russia's policy after the conclusion of peace ?
Gambetta left a celebrated aphorism by which Russia may profit. He
said : *' Appuy^s sur Londres et Saint-P^tersbourg nous serons invinci-
bles.' If Russian statesmen ponder over Gambetta's policy, which is
ccmtained in the foregoing phrase, they may find it in their interest
to found a policy on the principle * Appuy^s sur Paris et sur Londres
nous serons invindbles,' and they may strive to create again those
pleasant relations which existed between Russia and England for two
centuries up to the time of Napoleon the First, who threw an apple of
discord between them. When Russia soberly considers her position
she may find it in her interest to secure again the friendship and the
c 2
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20 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY July
support of this country. If she does so, Russia may discover in
England a better and a more reliable friend than she has had in those
so-called friends of hers who have tried their best to elbow her back
into Asia. It seems hardly likely that Russia and England will ever
be allies, but they may march hand in hand and co-operate in political
and economic matters. For several decades such co-operation
between England and Russia has unfortunately been impossible.
Russia stands at the parting of the ways, and the next few weeks
may decide which way Russia will be going, or, perhaps, which way
Russia will be drifting. Russia cannot be at the same time the
leading Power in Europe and the leading Power in Asia. Before the
outbrefiJc of the Russo-Japanese war she was undoubtedly the leading
Power in Europe, but by trying to become the leading Power in
Asia as well she has lost her preponderant position in Europe. If
Russia thinks that revenge and the recovery of her prestige in Asia
is her most important aim and mterest, she will have to concentrate
all her energy, all her strength, and all her wealth upon Asia for several
decades, and will have to neglect her European interests. But in
the meantime Constantinople may fall into non-Russian hands, and
Russia may find herself pushed back step by step both from the
Baltic and from the Black Sea by the Germanic nations of Western
Europe, and then the dreams of the Pan-Germans will come true.
If that should come to pass, Russia may again become an Asiatic
Power, and may disappear in the wilds of Central Asia as did the
Mongols of old. On Chinese soil, perhaps in Mongolia, Russia may
find her grave.
If Russia thinks that her most valuable interests lie in Europe,
and if she wishes to take up again the policy of Peter the Great and
Catherine the Second, she should make peace with Japan as quickly
as possible, and shoidd devote all her energy to recovering her strength,
introducing reforms, and gaining back her position in Europe, which
is now so gravely compromised. Her Asiatic possession}^ are large
enough for Russia's surplus population for centuries to come, and if
she should lose Saghalien and Vladivostok, what does it matter ?
After all, what is Saghalien and what is Vladivostok to Russia com-
pared with those enormous districts of which she enjoys the undis-
puted possession, but which she risks losing in trying to defeat the
Japanese, and to reconquer those insignificant fractions of her vast
empire which Japan may take? Germany, France, Great Britain,
in fact all great historic nations, have lost important territories at
some time or the other, yet they have remained powerful and pros-
perous States. Russia has so far only grown at a speed which is
unique in history, and the loss of territory which she may have to
suffer is so trifling that she has really no right to complain. Besides,
Russia should remember that some of the greatest empires in the world,
from that of the Persians down to that of Napoleon the First, have
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1905 THE COLLAPSE OF RUSSIA— I 31
been broken up by their vain attempts at subduing, in wars of spite,
not in wars of interest, a small, distant, and comparatively unimportant
nation which wanted to be left alone. Let Russia take warning
from history and from the universal experience of nations, and let
her profit from the advice of her best and her most disinterested
friends. The sooner she makes peace the better it will be for her.
0. Eltzbaohicr.
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22 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY July
THE COLLAPSE OF RUSSIA
ll.—TffE FALL OF M, DELCASSS AND THE ANGLO-FRENCH
* ENTENTE*
The fall of M. Delcass^ has given birth to misunderstandings which
it is our duty, to my mind, not to let grow and become mischievous.
Nothing could be worse than for English public opinion, led astray by
false appearances and unfortunately, too, by deliberate inexactitudes,
to look upon a lawful and reasonable act of the French Parliament
as an infideUty to the spirit of an evUenie which, in fact, has no more
resolute and faithful champions than the very authors of this change
of men.
Without doubt I have not the least intention to make a foreign
nation judge of an event of a thoroughly national and internal
character. Just as England would not have dreamed to allow the France
of Louis-PhiUppe or Napoleon to demand from her an account of the
dismissal of an Aberdeen, a Palmerston, a Russell, a Clarendon, or a
Granville, or would not dream to allow the France of to-day to meddle
in the question of the maintenance of a Lansdowne or the substitu-
tion of an Edward Grey, a Campbell-Bannerman, or a Bryce, just so we
coidd not subject ourselves to a pressure — even to the most friendly
pressure — ^in the matter of the choice of the statesmen to whom we
give the care of our foreign relations. What I deem useful or rather
necessary — ^what I want to do here and now — ^is to try and show by
serious arguments that, far from having harboured in any degree the
wish to weaken the agreement of the 8th of April, 1904, we have sought
and got the dismissal of M. Delcass6 because we had too strong reasons
to fear that his policy gave a wrong turn to this convention, com-
promised its usefulness,even endangered its existence, while at the same
time it threatened to bring about a situation eminently dangerous for
the peace of the world, and radically opposite to the interests and the
will of a peaceful democracy. I shall try to adduce facts — stem, incon-
trovertible facts — ^in order to make clear to all but partisans, unable
to see or unwilling to acknowledge the reaUty, that M. Delcass^ has
fallen, not a victim to the ukase of the Eaiser, but under the weight
of his own faults ; because, in spite of his colleagues and of the whole
Parliament, he has deliberately, obstinately, followed a way of his own.
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1905 THE COLLAPSE OF RUSSIA -11 23
M. Delcas86 has enjoyed the rare fortune to remain nearly seven
years at the head of the French Foreign Office — seven years, grande
humani cBvi apatium^ not only in a country where the frequency of
Ministerial crises and the constant shuffling of persons mask to super-
ficial looks the permanency, sometimes excessive, of the policy — at
any rate, of the diplomatic, military, naval, financial policy — but even
in a land which had got the fame of being the Fatherland of wise Parlia-
mentarism. Far from me the childish thought to contest that for a
politician to remain so long in power under the Cabinets of Messrs.
Brisson, Dupuy, Waldeck-Rousseau, Combes, and Rouvier, something
more than the favour of a capricious divinity or the faithful friendship
of the President of the Republic — some parcel of merit — has been
necessary.
None the less it is true that the greatest chance of M. Delcass6 was
to succeed as Foreign Minister to M. Gabriel Hanotaux. This states-
man had irremediably lost his character, both by his unworthy fashion
to practise the Russian alliance, and by his shameful complicity with the
Sultan in his bloody Armenian policy. At first M. DelcassA had only
to reverse the diplomacy of his predecessor in order to enjoy to the
faD the benefit of the foQ. France was thankful to him for the balance
of mind and sang-froid he seemed to display when he took her out of
the perilous impasse where she had been brought by the mad adventure
of Fashoda. Nobody cared at this time to remember that he himself
had heen one of the principal organisers of this foolish coup in his
quality of Secretary of State for the Colonies, when he flattered him-
self, by launching Marchand through Africa to the Nile, * to hang
a saucepan to the tail of England.'
Unhappily, as soon as he felt himself secure in his seat, he thought
it necessary to develop an original policy. I shall do no more than
allude here to the absurd manner in which he isolated himself, in a
kind of closed room, breaking or reducing to the vanishing-point his
relations not only with public opinion and its lawful representatives,
the members of Parliament, but also with his colleagues and his sub-
ordinates, even with the Ministers and Ambassadors of foreign States,
whom he saw only at stated intervals and in ceremom'ous meetings.
This conduct — dangerous even in a Bismarck — was all the more
unjustifiable that M. Delcass6 had not been prepared for the difficult
task of leading the international policy of France by previous studies
or an unmistakable vocation.
It is no part of my present subject to go at length into the details of
the policy of M. Delcass^ in the matter of the Russian alliance. It is
known how this alliance^ which might and ought to have been only a
necessary counterpoise to the dangerous, because exclusive, prepotency
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24 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY July
of the Triplice, was from the first day of its conclasion deviated from its
troe object. While it constitated a complement of consecration of the
territorial staJtua quo, since Russia, to the benevolent neutrality of which
Prussia owed in great part the full accomplishment of its furthest
ambitions in 1871, has never manifested the smallest intention to
bring back in question the results of the Franco-German war or above
all to break the strong and old intimacy between herself and the Court
of Berlin, false patriots applied themselves to give this pact as the
beginning of remnche.
At one stroke, instead of France dealing with Russia on a footing
of full equality, and enjoying the right to exact and get from her a
mutual correspondence of good oj£ces and services, she put herself
in the humble position of a client towards a benefactor. People
mixed false and dangerous feeling, bad sentimentaUty, with an act
of pure policy, which, while giving strong and precious guarantees
to the peace of the world, created unnatural antinomies and made
a great democracy, daughter of a revolution, the ally, sometimes
the instrument, of a most reactionary autocracy. From this time
France could only follow suit to her great protector. France was
subaltemised, domesticated everywhere ; she suffered her greatest
interests to be subordinated to those of an alien Power.
However, there is, even in these great matters, a j ust Nemesis. The
French Republic has not been the only one to pay for common faidts.
It is no mystery for weU-informed persons that when the nefarious
Grand Ducal Besobrasof-Alexeief cUque threw the Tsar, this unfor-
tunate puppet, into the mad and criminal adventure of the Manchurian
war, the word of France might, even at the last hour, have played
a decisive and salutary part. M. Delcass6 had the supreme weakness
not to beUeve in the war. Until the last, up to the day of the surprise
of Port Arthur, he was prodigal of optimistic assurances. He looked,
too, with a stupendous serenity on the war itself, convinced that
it would draw a slow and ineffectual length ; that the occupation
of Corea would absorb for months the strength of Japan ; that there
would be time and opportunities enough, not only to limit the area,
but also to extinguish the flames of this dread conflagration.'
A man with such illusions was the last to give, in the necessary
tone, in the necessary terms, the necessary advice. Russia owes
in part to the too domesticated friendship of M. Delcass^ the fearful
trial which shakes to its foundations the edifice of bureaucratic auto-
cracy, though it will perhaps not be too dear a price to pay for the
bankruptcy and faU of an eflete despotism, for a constitution and
the royal gift of freedom. After such a bad beginning, the head of
the French Foreign Office ought, at any rate, to have taken to heart
the unmistakable lessons of the war in order to rectify his position.
I shall only sketch here the unjustifiable manner in which M. Delcass^,
if left to himself unto the end,'^would have understood and practised
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1905 THE COLLAPSE OF BUS SI A -II 25
the obligations of neutrality — ^that is to saj, not only the general
law of nations, but also the terms of his own declaration of the 19th
of February, 1904.
TK^thont donbt, it was a delicate business to adjust the balance
between the duties international law imposes and the duties bom
from friendship and alUanoe with one of the belligerents. Not only
France, but the whole civilised world, Japan not excluded, would have
perfectly allowed M. Delcass^ to apply himself— without rubbing
m the v^iom of the remembrance ot the mad intervention of the
three Powers in the Treaty of Shimonosaki — to give to his ally
evidences of good will and loyalty. What nobody has been able
to pass over has been the inconceivable obstinacy with which he
lent himself and his conduct, chiefly in the matter of the Baltic Fleet,
to the suspicions, to the claims, and to the irritation of Japan.
It is not here the place to draw an indictment against this part
of the policy of the late Minister. Let it be sufficient for me to recall
my own intervention in January last, when Bojhdestvensky and his
ill*fated men-of-war had sojourned an unccmscionable time at Djibuti.
Nossi-Be, and Madagascar ; the excitement of public opinion when
it learned that the Russian admiral was, with tiie too evident com-
plicity of some subordinate officials led astray by the attitude of the
Foreign Secretary, making the bays of our Indo-Chinese colony
bases of operations, and waiting at Gamranh for tiie sister squadron
of Nebogatoi
Not a minute too soon, when some members of Pariiament had
drawn the attention of the Premier to such irregularities, orders were
given in such an unmistakable tone that St. Petersburg understood
the time of playing with the fire was passed, and that the agents
of France felt at last necessary to obey. And what made the policy
which had deliberately brought us to such a pass the more unfor-
givable was that, with a lightness of heart unparalleled even in an
Emile OlUvier in 1870, M. Delcass^, under pretence of our
aDiaace with Russia, had drawn us to the brink of a rupture with
Japan — with England behind it — exactly at the moment when,
under pretence of an agreement with England, his faults of omission
and of commission in Morocco threatened us with a conffict with
Germany.
However much I regret to be obliged to lay before an English
pubUc such a case against a French politician, I do not hesitate about
what I hold to be a duty. It is necessary for us to explain to a nation
with which we are anxious to remain in full amity and oordiaie entente
the real causes of the dieanissal of a Minister who had succeeded in
embroiling us simultaneously with two sets of difficulties and in giving
a fake and pernicious character to a convention where we have
always seen, and we want always to see, only an instrument of peace
and good will among men. It is all the more necessary that, during
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26 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY July
the crisis, I had twice tried to get from the courtesy and sense of justice
of the Paris correspondent of an English paper, who had, to my mind,
misunderstood and misinterpreted the intentions of the foes of M. Del-
cass^, the insertion of a rectifying letter — and twice, to my uttermost
astonishment, in absolute opposition to the fair and broad-minded
practice of the late M. de Blowitz, I had met with a blank refusal.
However, all I have written up to this point is only prefatory
matter, brought in order to get the true value of M. Delcass6 and to
explain the state of mind of the immense majority of the French Parlia-
ment. I pass now to the special point of this paper — to the Moroccan
policy of M. Delcasse and to its bearings on the Anglo-French erUenie.
IT
The history of the renewal of the cordiale etUente in April 1904
has not yet been written, not even sketched. Nothing is further
from my thought than to dream to contest in this business the reign
of the great, universal law of sic vos non vobis. Once more it has
been demonstrated to the full that the best, surest means to reap the
ripe fruit of a great policy is, after having opposed it to the last, after
having exhausted every endeavour to make it miscarry, to rally to it
in extremis and to appropriate the whole credit at the last hour. Nobody
has forgotten on both sides of the Manche the truly deplorable state
into which had fallen the relations of France and England in the last
years of the late century.
The rankling memory of Fashoda had given the finishing-stroke to
the exacerbation of spirit of a noisy faction already exasperated by the
loss of Egypt. Those apostles of an exacting patriotism did not
deign to consider that it was largely the fault of France if she had
declined to take part, at the pjrschological moment, in the British
intervention against Arabi Pasha, and that since that time our diplo-
macy had never relaxed in the futile and irritating habit of harping
untiringly on the chord of evacuation, without taking practically a
single step to make it possible. In the case of Fashoda, too, so-called
patriots did not want to acknowledge that it had been a pernicious
madness to send the Marchand expedition on the flank of the
English position in the Nile Valley, as a mosquito against a Uon ; that
it would have been a crime to push the conflict up to a war ; and
that the greatest service to the true interests of our country was to
cut short this foolish adventure, to sanction at last accomplished
facts, and to renounce finally dangerous and unpractical chimeras.
Unfortunately public opinion, ill-informed, looked on this, after
all, cheap liquidation of a false speculation in the light of a gratuitous
humiliation. It was the time when France, after the long winter
of her discontent and anxious isolation, was exalted by the character-
istic declarations of men who ought to have known better, and who
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1905 THE COLLAPSE OF BUSSIA—II 27
{Mctoied to her the Russian alliance, not as a valuable accession to the
gnaiantees of peace, but as the knightly riding-up of a generous
Paladin coming to the rescue of an afflicted people and offering
them the boon of revanche. Add some obscure contests about New-
foundland and treaty-rights undeniably possessed by France, but as
undeniably noxious to the interests and even to the full life of an
English population; about the delimitation of spheres and the
division of territory in Africa, where Lord SaKsbury had a Uttle
cynically boasted of having given us, in exchange for real advan-
tages, some hundred of miles of sand ; about our relations with Siam
and the future of this colonial empire of Indo-China we had founded
in the last years, when we had had the disagreeable surprise to run
against a somewhat peremptory and threatening veto of Lord Rosebery
— and you will understand somewhat, if not excuse wholly, the state
of the pubUc mind, of the * man in the street.'
Then the organisers of the hateful conspiracy against law, right,
and justice, the criminal exploiters of the vices and virtues of a popular
mass on whose ignorance and patriotism they speculated, the shameless
poUticians who scrupled not to accuse their fellow-citizens, advocates
of a lawful revision, of being the paid agents of foreigners — these men
yielded themselves to calculated rages when they saw the conscience
of the whole civilised world bring us a valuable, because purely moral,
assistance in our great struggle. When England, to the sorrow of
many of her oldest and best friends, undertook a war of conquest
against a small nation of farmers, we had the queer spectacle of the
Jingoes of France engaged in the furious denunciation of the Chau-
vinists of England for practising the self -same policy they tired not to
preach to their own country.
Such was the state of the public mind in France, not to speak
here of some unfortunate manifestations of an analogous spirit in
En^and, to which a poUtician of the first water, Mr. Chamberlain,
had lent the authority of his powerful, if sometimes imprudent,
voice, when some Frenchmen, animated with the conviction, bom of
die experience of more than a century, that it is impossible for the
two great Liberal Powers of Europe to fall into hostiUty or even bad
relations without endangering at one and the same time both their
own material and moral interest^ and the most precious interests of
civilisation, resolved to try and get a better state of things. They
knew that France and England may have — in fact, have— difficulties
in many parts of the world, but that it is not above the arts of diplo-
macy to prepare a peaceful solution of them, and that between
two such Powers the best formula is, when and where they cannot
absolutely agree, at any rate to agree to differ, and to differ with
friendliness.
The undertaking was not easy ; it had nothing desperate. At many
times during the last century, notwithstanding the memories of the
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28 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY July
Great War, such happy ententes have prevailed between the two
oountries. and every time, under Louis-Philippe as under Napoleon
the Third, when Fahnerston and Aberdeen, with the powerful assist-
ance of Cobden, put their hands in those of Guizot or Drouyn de
Lhuys, this policy met with a hearty answer from the mass of
the people, though sinister interests or fanatical, obsolete prejudices
clamoured against it. Every time, too, notwithstanding the mistakes
of the (Governments, either when they put their money on the wrong
horse in the Crimean war, or when they f eU to words and nearly to
blows after the addresses of the Colonels and the acquittal of Dr.
Bernard, the good sense of the people held up the agreement and
made it an invaluable instrument of mutual prosperity, of goodwill
among the nations, of peace and of progress for tiie whole of the world.
It became naturally the working classes on both sides of the
Channel to rise above temporary misunderstandings, to claim the
glorious heirloom of concord, and to pave the way for the renewal of
such a happy, beneficent contract. They did not fail in their duty.
It was in Paris — at meetings of trade unionists and syndiques, at
meetings, too, convened by some of my friends and myself in favour
of Armenia, Macedonia, and the whole of the unfortunate subjects of
Sultan Abdul Hamid — that, for the first time since the crisis, English
voices were heard in France, English guests were made at home
among Frenchmen, the standard of a peaceful understanding was
held up, and the basis of a Uving agreement was established.
All this time, if official diplomacy contented herself with looking
with an ironical aloofness on this good work, M. Delcass6 was prodigal
with discouraging words and acts. He had thrown in his lot with the
Tsar. He saw in Nicholas the Second his patron, his master, his porte-
honhewr. He fancied Russia was the all in all, the alpha and the
omega of a rational French poUcy . The only side on which he attempted
something else than to follow faithfully the steps of Count Mouraviev
was his Italian negotiation.
Here, marvellously served by a first-rate ambassador, M. Barrere,
usefully directed for once by his fixed idea to isolate Germany, he
succeeded in bringing nearer two nations which had been thrown in a
violent and unnatural antagonism by mutual mistakes. The secret of
his success was that he did not attempt more than he was able to accom-
plish. He did not propose to prevent the renewal of the Triplice ; it
was enough for him to relax the bonds of this alliance, to void it from
any hostile or offensive character, and to restore friendship and good
relations with Rome without trying to put an end to the intimacy of
Rome and Berlin.
It was at this moment that the Moroccan poUcy took its final
shape in the mind of M. Delcass6. No Frenchman, no clear-seeing
observer of international things, will contest that the peculiar position
of France, the long conterminousness of the frontier of Algeria with
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1906 THE^ COLLAPSE OF BUSSIA-II 29
that of the Chereefian Empire, 'the unavoidable oorUre-amp of events
in Moiocco on the MtusBoknan populations of our great oolony, many
oilier facts as stubborn, give to the Republic a natural title, a kind of
priority of right on this vast, nearly vacant domain. The question
has always been, and is yet, to assure the necessary preponderanoy
of France in this region, without, on the one side, disturbing the inter-
national equilibrium and giving offence to legitimate interests or
natural prejudices, and, on the other side, without launching us into
a war in relation to which the long struggle for the conquest of Algeria
would be child's play.
M. Delcass4 was anxious to leave behind him a name. He wanted,
as Napoleon the Third with Mexico, to realise the great idea of his reign .
At first there was nothing much to criticise eiliier in his end or in his
means. He gave out as his plan the design to negotiate with all the
interested Powers, in order to get from them a kind of bUrnio-Being,
and to be able to operate on a ground wholly freed from all external
obetades. Some of us made reserves about the price he paid to Italy.
The Quirinal Oabinet could only give or sell us, as the fairest girl in
the worid, what it had — and what it had in Morocco was not much.
In exchange for a somewhat Platonic promise to acknowledge some-
what uncertain eventualities it got from M. Delcass^ a kind of general
assent to tiie establishment of Italy in the Tripolitaine.
There was something a little cynical in this cold-blooded disposal
of part of an existing State. Some people thought that, in the special
conditions of population in our Tunisian protectorate, it would have
been wiser and better not to put Italians in such inmiediate neighbour-
hood, and to preserve between Tunis and Cyreniuca a kind of buffer
land. However, if some were anxious, nobody found fault. It was at
this very moment that M. Delcass^ conceived the thought to use a
raipprochemmt with Elngland, which circumstances had ended by
wiAlriTig necessary even to his mind, to promote his Moroccan policy
and give it the finishing-stroke.
Oar movement for the renewal of the cardiaie erUente had taken
substance and strength on both sides of the Channel. The first and
the second of ike inter-parUamentary meetings had taken place in
London and Paris — ^witiiout at first any encouragement from tiie
French Foreign Office. A powerful current of sympathy drew the
two nations towards one other. At the same time the fibrst signs of
tiie decadence of the Russian alliance appeared on the horizon. France,
happily recalled to her true self, once more engaged in her historical
task to continue the Revolution, to make the Republic something
more than a void form, and to give to democracy, already in possession
of sorvereignty, the boon of social and collective property — France
became a littie uneasy in the bonds of her pact with autocratic and
reacticmary Russia.
At the same time it was evident that the Tsar, held captive by the
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30 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY July
Qrand Ducal coterie, by Alexeief , Besobrasof, and Pobedonostsef,
inclined more and more to throw in the Far East the whole force of
his Empire, and to engage in the formidable adventure of a great war.
M. Delcass6 made up his mind, without relaxing his intimacy with
Nicholas, to seek for a new friendship in England. When we knew
his intentions every one of us, myself among the first, as reporter of
the Committee of Ways and Means on Foreign Affairs, applauded
them. We saluted with joy the visit of King Edward, the visit of
President Loubet. We lent our utmost assistance to the vote of the
Treaty, though naturally, in so complicated a work, some of the parts
of this convention gave rise to strong objections.
The Chamber and the Senate, with a practical imanimity, ratified
the idea to solve at once and by the same instrument the whole of
the questions pending between both countries. Though the con-
ventional rights of our fisheries in Newfoundland were, practically,
important for the recruiting of our navy and for the food of our
working population, and sentimentally dear to a nation which had
enjoyed them since 1715, we made no diJBSlculty on the articles in which
the premier colony of England finds such advantages. We did not
criticise too sharply the African dispositions or the Indo-Chinese part
of the agreement. Nearly every speaker declared himself either satisfied
with, or at any rate perfectly resigned to, the irrevocable acknow-
ledgment of the new status in Egypt, and our final renunciation, if
not to rights, to memories and hopes. In good faith we accepted the
assurances of M. Delcass6 that, England having given her assent to
the peaceful penetration of Morocco, it remained only to complete the
operation ; that is to say, to get the consent of the other interested
Powers.
What gave us chiefly joy was the feeling that henceforward France
and England, hand in hand, without compromising obligaticms, in the
fulness of good faith, of good will, and of freedom, were going to work
for the peace of the world. We hoped that each of them would act
on his ally in the great war in order to moderate his views and to
hasten a necessary cessation of this great trouble. When the lament-
able incident of the Dogger Bank happened we registered with a deep
satisfaction some beginning of this beneficent action. Suddenly we
learned that M. Delcasse had himself, without consulting or informing
anybody, played false to his own policy.
There was a Power, Grermany, with the third rank in the com-
mercial relations of Morocco, with ancient aspirations in this country,
with a Sovereign who has made the development of her navy, trade,
colonial empire the end-all and be-all of his reign. Twenty-five years
ago, when Germany had not yet in these parts the stake she has got
now, she was called to participate in the Conference of Madrid, and
France went out of her way to flatter her. Now M. Delcass6 had
negotiated with Italy, England, Spain. He had officially communi-
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1905 THE COLLAPSE OF BUSSIA—II 31
cated his treaty to Russia, who is not a Mediterranean Power. With
Germany he did not know how to deal.
He dared not keep absolute silence, and he casually touched, in
a conversation with Prince Badolin, on the convention of the 8th of
April, 1901. He did not resign himself to make to her an official com-
munication. Chancellor Billow hastened, in a speech in the Reichstag,
to declare that his Government had nothing per se against the rights
claimed by France, but he took care to add that Germany waited for
a talk, and held herself entitled to explanations or even to proposals.
Such a hint called for some answer. It was foolish to let it fall on
the ground, if one had not adopted a fully developed policy of
conflict and rupture.
M. Delca8s6 knew the temper of Wilhelm the Second, of this
explosive monarch who launches bolts and whose speeches are fire-
brands. German critics have called the policy of the Emperor *a
rush at full steam in zig-zag.' They have not fully rendered justice
to a man who, through his apparent variations and his sudden reversals,
pursues with a rare obstinacy his course. What is more, the French
Foreign Minister had special knowledge of the state of mind of Wilhelm
the Second in these times. He had seen him flutter as a soul in
anguish around the shores ol Italy during the visit of President Loubet,
oncertain whether he should astonish the world by appearing as an
uninvited guest at the feast of two, or whether he should launch a
protest against the flirtation of his ally with the Republic. He had
seen him go back suddenly to Germany and speak three times in
the tones of a man who rages and who threatens.
Now no Frenchman worth his salt wants his country to kneel
before the Kaiser. What we cannot forgive in M. Delcass6 is not
to have known his mind, not to have chosen between a policy
of friendly talk and a policy of silent indiiSerence, and to have
maladroitly given pretext and occasion to what we call in France a
quereOe d^AUemand. When the crisis came, when Wilhelm the Second
went to Fez and talked big, it was not too late to put him in the
wnmg, to take back the interrupted method of negotiations, and to
free the way to peaceful action in Morocco.
That was exactly what wanted, what demanded, the unanimity of Par-
liament, powerfully assisted by the intervention of the Prime Minister,
who saved M. Dekasse by disavowing him and solemnly engaging to
bring him back to the true constitutional practice of common delibera-
tion and conmion action. M. Rouvier promised, first, the immediate
return to neutraUty in Indo-Chinese waters, and we got it ; secondly,
the immediate opening of friendly conversation with Germany ; but
here he was, and we were too, baulked by the obstinacy of his colleague.
I do not think English opinion would have tolerated for an
hour a Minister who, without offering any denial, any explanation, any
answer, before the only legitimate instance, Parliament, after having
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82 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY July
left the head of the Goyemment to save him by makiiig specific picnuBes
in his name, should have immediately taken up his intrigues, should
have put into use in a most dangerous crisis the force of inertia, and
should have secretly got tiie tribe of officious journalists and of
sympathetic correspondents to trumpet his greatness, to traduce the
policy of his critics, and to serve his obstinacy. Time went by. No
progress was made. The advocates of M. DeIoass6 proclaimed that it
was all the fault of Wilhehn tiie Second, and everybody was tempted
to believe it. All at once it was discovered that, while Qermany wilii-
out doubt brought 'no milk of human kindness' to sweeten the
negotiations, it was M. Delcaas^ who deliberately persisted in
keeping silent.
A question was threatened in the House, it was put to him in
the Cabinet. Brought to bay, he let the secret out. This small man
was mad enough to look serenely, even joyfully, on the fearful prospect
of a great Continental war. on such a pretext. Facts came out. It
was proved that, not satisfied with impaling the peace of the world
by putting under his feet tiie orders of Parliament and the instruc-
tions of his colleagues, he negotiated secretly with tiie Vatican at the
time when relations were broken and when France was engaged in
divorcing Church and State.
Such unforgivable mistakes are surely sufficient reason for the
diamJBsal of a politician. France just now has to repair the effects
of this policy. Nothing would be worse for the maintenance and
the development of a concert to which we are attached from the
bottom of our hearts than to give colour to the suspicions of those who
hold that England — * perfidious Albion,' a^ their forefathers said— is
more anxious to embroil France with (Germany than to draw legitimate
profits from a loyal agreement.
I do not need to protest that I have never held, harboured, such
unjust thoughts. At the utmost I could fear that a party — the extreme
Imperialist one, who looks on Germany as on a dangerous rival in
trade and industry, in naval supremacy, in colonial expansion —
shoidd be able to see with satisfaction France drawing the chestnuts
from the fire — ^and from a fire lighted at her expense — for an aUy.
We remember here that the unscrupulous poUcy of Prince Bismarck
made of the legitimate conquest of Tunis the cause or the pretext of a
long and noxious struggle with Italy. We do not care to fall into the
same error in Morocco, not even for the fair eyes of imybody.
France wants above all peace. She threatens nobody. She hopes
to be able, with the friendly assistance of England, not only to work
usefully, under the meritorious auspices of President Roosevelt, for a
good imd solid peace between Japan and Russia, but also, and chiefly,
to put an. end to the ruinous madness of armed peace, to procure con-
ventional, simultaneous, and progressive disarmamenl^ and to inaugurate
the glorious era of unbroken concord, so necessary for the bloodless
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1906 THE COLLAPSE OF RUSSIA— II 88
evolution of freedom and of social democracy. M. Delcass^ had nearly
compromised all these great results. Even if he was not conscious of
the fulness of his wrong, he has justly and opportunely been dis-
missed. France and England have something better to do than to give
disproportioned importance to such an incident. This hearty agree-
ment, happily, is founded on a broader and more solid basis than the
secret plans of a politician. Two great Uberal Powers feel that it is
their interest and liieir duty to live in peace and to give to the
world the benefit of their lead in the ways of material and moral
progress, of liberty, concord, and civilisation.
FbANOIS DK PBBSBSHSifi
{D6puU du Bhdne).
Vol. LVm— No. 341 • D
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84 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY July
TB£ COLLAPSE OF RUSSIA
lll^GERMANY AND MOROCCO
The annihilation of the Russian Navy in the Straits of Tsushima —
Togo's crowning mercy — ^has removed a spectre that for well nigh
fifty years has dominated the entire political situation from Gravcsend
to Vladivostok. Since the Napoleonic disaster and the negative
and nugatory issue of the Crimean War military opinion in Europe
seems to have been obsessed by the idea that Russia was invulnerable ;
and so arose the legend, which in more recent years became nothing
less than an ' id6e fixe/ that Russia, like some huge avalanche, must
necessarily and inevitably move onwards, and in time conquer and
rule over Asia. Bismarck set the fashion, and left as his political
testament to Germany — unswerving friendship with Russia. The
Triple Alliance was formed. Then France, still thinking of the
' revenge,' allied herself with the vast Muscovite Power ; and finally
England, isolated and universally hated, saw fit to break with her
traditional policy and become the ally of Japan. And so, from fear
of Russia, Europe became divided into groups of Powers. Russia,
unvisited by tourists, mysterious and unknown, had but to scowl and
the Chanceries of Europe all quivered and quaked.
Now all has changed. The Island Nation with whom (strange
though it may now appear) Great Britain for a long time hesitated to
enter into alliance on the ground that Japan as a naval Power
was inadequate and consequently not ' bundesfahig ' has astounded
the world by her feats on land and sea. The fictitious glory of Russia
has departed. Humiliated and crippled without, torn and distracted
within, Russia stands on the eve of peace — a revelation to the world.
In every conceivable way autocracy has been tried and found wanting.
Her coffers, that so glamoured certain ingenuous publicists, have run
low. Sadness, as of utter darkness, reigns throughout the land.
Nobody in Russia knows what will happen next ; nobody much cares.
What the best opinion in Europe held to be impossible the Japanese
have accomplished within siicteen months. Even the myth of the
redoubtable Cossacks has been swept away. Scientifically, ruthlessly,
automatically Japan has exposed the weakness of Russia. A new
situation in world pohtics has been created* * The sick man ' to-day
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1905 THE COLLAPSE OF BUS SI A— III 85
is Ruflsia. ' Banzai ' has freed Europe from the spell of Ikon dominion,
has given the world a new civilisation, and restored the balance of
the East as opposed to the West.
Perhaps the most singular thing about it all has been that nobody
— not even England — foresaw the result. At the beginning of the
war military 'opinion in (Jermany prophesied calmly the victory of
Russian arms, and this view was shared by France and the other
great military Powers. When the (German Emperor ' reinsured '
Gennany over a * game of billiards ' with the Czar at Wiesbaden he did
so in the firm conviction that Russia was about to embark on a great
Asiatic war from which she would issue triumphant — mistress of Asia
from the Urals to Pekin. The assurances the Emperor William then
gave to 'the Admiral of the East' enabled Russia to denude her
Western garrisons of men and guns : while the subsequent sale of
Gennan ships to the Russian Government, and her subservient
demeanour towards Russia in connection with the question of emigrants
and deserters, and on the occasion of the seizures of German ships,
stamped the whole attitude of (jermany from the outset with the mark
of * benevolent neutrality.' And France went even further. The
men who met their deaths from Togo's guns and torpedoes in the seas
of Japan would in all probabiUty now be alive in some neutral or
home port had not France afiEorded Admiral Rodjestvensky every
conceivable opportunity for continuing his ill-starred adventure. And
in thus acting France was unquestionably actuated by some vague
notion that the Russian fleet might still save the situation and restore
the prestige of Russia. Even in England many doubteil, and in the
embassies of Europe the issue of the combat was to the last frankly
discussed with doubts and misgivings. Alone Japan never doubted.
And now that the blow has fallen the mask of diplomacy is lifted ;
public interest has been directed from the Far East to the West. Auto-
matically Russia's great ally has been forced to show her hand, and
she has done so — precipitately, many will think — by bowing to the
will of Grermany, and getting rid of M. Delcass6.
The fall of M. Delcass6 is the most important event in European
politics since the conclusion of the Dual Alliance. It is the first
patent result of the collapse of Russia's power in Europe, and opens
a new chapter in French politics. It is the anticlimax to a nation's
policy. The man — and in his case the man stood for a policy — has
been sacrificed, rightly or wrongly, to make way for a new poUcy,
which may or may not be successful. If it has lightened the air, it
has created a situation fraught with diverse dangers and possibilities.
The retirement of M. Delcass^ is the triumph of German diplomacy.
Across the Yosges * Bemhard der Gliickliche ' has been raised to the
title of Prince, and there has been great exultation. For, nebulous
as the situation generally still is, one fact stands out clear and indis-
putable. That is the success obtained by Prince Billow and the German
D 2
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36 THE NINETEENTH CENTO BY July,
Emperor. In a word, the hilure of Russia has weakened France and
enabled Germany to assume the long-coveted role as the central Power
in Europe.
Now, ever since the Boer war revealed to us the hostility of the
German people, England has locdced with favourable eyes upon the
French : who, in turn, having learnt during the Fashoda crisis that
Russia would never be of much service to them, have returned the
compliment. The ' entente cordiale ' has been the result. By this
arrangement England and France settled a number of points at issue
and established a modus vivendi on terms of friendship and equality.
In every respect the pact was an admirable one, and there can be no
doubt whatever that we entered into the bargain not only with our
eyes open but with the determination loyally to fulfil our part in the
agreement. Quite apart from the settlement of various minor ques-
tions, which were none the less a constant cause of annoyance and
friction between the two Governments, two features in the arrange-
ment seemed to call for special attention. The one was the termination
of the dispute about Egypt, and the other — no less important — the
free hand we gave the French in dealing with Morocco. In point of
fact both sides seemed delighted over the deal, and most people
confidently expected the French to step in boldly and establish order
in Morocco under the French flag. It seemed the logical sequence
to the policy of ' pacific penetration,' and as no other great Power,
except Spain, was apparently concerned in the question, it appeared
to all that France had acquired a very fat portion of the earth with
remarkable ease and rapidity. Had France then grasped the situation
with the determination to settle the business, (Germany's opportunity
would never have arisen, and the present pother would never have
exist>ed.
As it is, France finds herself in a very unpleasant position, and
the much- vaunted 'pacific penetration' policy, which in her case
signified weakness and procrastination, has nearly precipitated her
into war, has compelled her to drop her pilot, and kow-tow before
Germany. For, though it is not at all generally known, the relations
between France and Germany for some time past have been strained
and unnatural, and had the French Government not determined to get
rid of M. Delcass6 at the last moment the cri»s through which France
has just passed might well have terminated in a European conflagration
such as has not been witnessed since the days of Napoleon. To
understand the circimistances that had led up to the present d^notie-
ment it is necessary to cast a glance upon the career of M. Delcass^,
and in particular in connection with his attitude towards Germany,
who in the present Moroccan imbroglio unquestionably holds the
trump card.
Now M. Dolcass^ had one capital fault as a statesman — ^he neglected
bis enemies. Diplomacy is the art, not of deceiving oneself, but of
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1905 THE COLLAPSE OF BUSSIA^UI 87
deceiving otheis ; and this is precisely wliat M. Delcass^ fttiled to do.
He was so absorbed in his work, so entirely devoted to the welfare
of his country, that he thought he could treat others as he himself
would wish to be treated. By nature somewhat of a recluse, he lived
apart from the trivialities of diplomacy, and latterly became almost
a Hermit. Unlike Mr. Boosevelt, who understands the importance
of being seen and spoken of, M. Delcass6 kept aloof from the diplo-
matic world, and worked in his study like a student of philosophy.
He avoided showing himself in public ; in jdain words, he was not
accessible. 'Les absents ont tort,' and M. Delcass^ made many
Miemies. The one man in France who from the nature of his office
could not afford to live a studious life, he nevertheless deliberately
chose to do so, r^ardless of pubUc opinion, regardless of diplomatic
usage. Now this was a great mistake. To those who knew and
trusted him it signified little ; but to those who never saw him and
distrusted him it was bitter gall. Moreover, it was undiplomatic.
M. DelcasB^ fell because, like many a man who lives apart from the
world, he ended by deceiving himself and was himself deceived by
others. In a country where there is no king, no figurehead, the
Minister of Foreign Affairs must be his own diplomatist. And this
M. Delcass^ never was. And so, though his friends trusted, his enemies
hated him. His diplomacy ceased to be an art ; it became rigid like
a doctrine. Quite out of touch with the world he directed, he failed to
assure himself that his country was behind him ; and when the crisis
came be found himself alone.
In all things the antithesis to M. Delcass^, Prince von Biilow has
flayed just the contrary game. Though he has committed many
blunders, the German Chancellor is a very astute man. A charming
' causeur,' a man of the world, urbane and level-headed. Prince Biilow
has on various occasions proved that he can successfully wear the
diplomatic ^ pantoufles ' left behind by the great Chancellor. For
sheer bluff and blarney he has no peer in Europe. Years ago he
' spotted ' M. Delcass^ and instinctively recognised in him a dangerous
i\vbI ; and ever since that discovery he has worked with consummate
adroitness to bring about his fall. When the ' entente cordiale ' was
concluded it was the fashion somewhat to jeer at Grerman diplomacy,
and point out that Germany's policy had been a signal failure ; which,
strictly speaking, at the time was doubtiess true. But in diplomacy
tiiere is nothing certain, while circmnstances are all. With com-
mendable wisdom Count Biilow (as he then was) kept silence and
abided his time.
Now what is known as the ^ entente cordiale ' was a great blow
to German diplomacy. In the first place it had become an axiom of
G^man wisdom of State to insist that England and France could never
settle ' k Faimable ' their long list of differences and grievances, and
until that moment Germany had confidentiy hoped to wear down the
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88 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY July
ill will o( Franoe by a sjrstematic policy of * petita soins/ in the accom-
plishment of which the Gennan Emperor is a past master. 'Per-
fidious ' Albion was thought to be too perfidious to enter into any
honest give-and-take agreement, and as England and Russia were,
and still are, considered to be the natural lifel6ng enemies the one
of the other, the oracles at the Wilhelmstrasse were literally dum-
founded to hear one morning that King Edward had upset all their
calculations, and that the ' entente ' had become a hard-and-fast fact.
The Anglophobia of (Germany was known to have left a reverberation
in England, and German diplomatists were openly complaining that
Ghreat Britain invariably turned a fleaf ear to Germany's overtures
and soUcitations. Germany felt herself to be in an uncomfortable
position. Moreover, the armies of Russia were still undefeated.
Something like a panic took place. A few articles in certain irre-
sponsible newspapers and an indiscreet speech or two led the German
Emperor to believe that England contemplated the destruction of the
German Navy, and last Christmas there was a very considerable war
scare in Germany, which England, at the time enveloped in fog, knew
scarcely anything at all about. Meanwhile the understanding between
England and Franoe grew apace, and became a popular arrangement
based on mutual sympathy and common-sense. The German press
campaigns against M. Delcass6 had all failed in their purpose, and
Germany was growing seriously alarmed, the more so as the feeling
arose that the friendship between England and France might easily
be turned into an aggressive alliance against Grerman poUcy.
M. Delcass6 had deUberately abstained from announcing the
conclusion of the Anglo-French agreement to Germany, who, at the
time, pocketed the slight while carefully notifying its significance.
Silently but swiftiy Germany prepared for war. With M. Delcass6
at the helm of French affairs, Germany felt that anj^thing was possible.
It was determined at all costs to bring about M. Delcassi's fall.
Grermany had a long list of grievances against him, not the least of
which were his sending M. Bihourd (a quite unknown man) as Ambas-
sador to Berlin — thereby showing that France did not care who looked
after her affairs in the Grerman capital — and his frigid attitude towards
Grerman overtures. In fact the German embassy in Paris were unable
to see M. Delcass6, who was usually * occupied ' in his own study.
All the Emperor's efforts to establish pleasant relations met with
evasive replies from the French Foreign Minister. Prince von
Donnersmark has discreetly disclosed some further * causes of German
irritation,' which have been published in the OatUois. On one occasion
(narrated the Prince) M. Delcass6 professed to have no time to see
the German Emperor ; Prince Henry, who had been invited to France
by the Automobile Club, was advised not to accept ' in the interests
of pubhc order ' ; Princess CeciUa of Mecklenburg was counselled not
to meet the Crown Prince at Cannes, and so on. When Germany
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1905 THE COLLAPSE OF BUS SI A— III 89
endeavouiced to disciuM an African railway Bcheme with the French
Ministry for Foreign Affairs,' M. Delcass^ vouchsafed no answer ;
Morocco was disposed of withoiit Germany even being consulted ; and
then France * contracts an alliance with a Power professing open
hostility to Germany.*
Again, M. Delcassi had contrived gradually to undermine the
Triple AlUance. Despite the trouble with the Vatican, a rapproche-
rnerU with Italy had been effected, which in no way contributed to
improve French and German relations. But the most heinous crime
committed by M. Delcass6 lay in the agreement with Great Britain,
which, from the French side, may be said to be his and M. CSambon's
joint work.
In fine, M. Delcass6 had ended by flouting G(ermany ; Morocco
was about to become a French colony; America was pro-English,
and the Spanish plans had proved abortive. And worst of all, England
had quite recovered her position in the world — due largely to the
skill of Lord Lansdowne — ^and was held to be very hostile towards
Germany.
This was the position— one might almost say the plight — of Qei-
many, when suddenly the collapse of Russia was revealed to Europe.
\^th consummate skill the Emperor William gauged the situation
and acted accordingly. He went to Morocco. Before the news-
papers had finished ridiculing what was generally styled the Emperor's
' fresh * coup de ASdire^ Germany had established herself securely in
Morocco, and pledged her word to uphold the independence of the
Sultan's dominions. Since his succession to the throne the Emperor
has never done a cleverer or bolder thing. In one day he completely
changed the whole European situation. Though at the time he was
commonly supposed to have committed a ' gaffe,' it will now gener-
ally be admitted that his Moroccan policy was a masterstroke from
the German point of view. The weakness of Russia had left France
practically without an ally ; France's * penetration policy ' in Morocco
since the conclusion of the ' entente ' had been weak ; the psychological
moment had arrived, and with characteristic energy the Emperor
dashed in. From that moment (jermany assumed an aggressive
tone towards France, and M. Delcass6's retirement became merely a
matter of time.
For the plain &ct is, German military opinion no longer fears
France. Moreover, from the most martial people in Europe the
French have become eminentiy industrious and peace-loving. Their
fighting zest has gone. Nobody in France now desires war ; nobody
desires the advent of a second Napoleon. Socialism is so powerful
tiiat no French Government can now afford to ignore the wishes of
the proletariate party. The Dreyfus scandals have unnerved the
people, who have lost confidence in both the Army and the Navy.
Germany, the French are aware, is armed to the teeth, and the * big
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40 THE NINETEENTH CENTUB7 July
battalions ' are all on her side. Defeat would entail the loss of all
France's colonies, and spell absolute ruip. Milliards have been sunk
in Russia, who, now defeated and crushed, has for the time being
lost even the weight of her moral influence. In a word, the French
have grown philosophical, ' bourgeois ' one might almost call it, and
no longer hanker after military glory.
All this the Qerman Emperor was fully aware of. He imme-
diately began to browbeat France, who, it must be admitted, was in
a very delicate position. Qradually the situation grew worse. (Ger-
many continued silently arming, but still M. Deloass^ showed no
sign of relenting, and things rapidly drifted into a dangerous state of
tension. The crisis came suddenly. About the time that the bride
of the Crown Prince was making her state entry into Berlin, the
(German Government was officially informed of certain movements
of French troops near the frontier ; regiments had been brought up
to their full strength, and officers' leave had been stopped. The reply
of Grermany was practically an ultimatum. For a couple of days the
situation was really critical. Grermany demanded that the mRflmng
of troops on the frontier should cease, or it would be regarded as an
unfriendly act ; and to her great relief the long wished-for reply was
ultimately flashed across the wires. M. Delcass6 was to retire. All
immediate danger was averted. Count Billow was elevated to the
dignity of Prince, and by sacrificing M. Delcass^ France proclaimed to
the world her peaceful proclivities.
For the continuance of M. Delcass^ in office would have forced
France to face the eventuality of war with Grermany, who, whether
bluffing (as some suppose) or not, gave France clearly to understand
that further evasion on her part to enter into negotiations with Grer-
many regarding Morocco would jeopardise the peace of Europe. And
so France decided to meet Germany half-way. That is the reason and
the meaning of M. Delcass6's fall. It denotes the determination of
the French Government to consider the German Emperor's views on
the subject of Morocco, and denotes at the same time that France is
prepared to abandon her attitude of ^ passive resistance ' towards
Germany — ^which was the policy of the late Foreign Minister. In-
directly, France's action amounts to a vote of want of confidence in
herself, and incidentally it betrays a certain want of confidence in
Great Britain, who had undertaken to support French policy in
Morocco. The point to be noted is the disinclination of France to
risk what after all may only have been a diplomatic encounter with
Prince Billow, who finds himself suddenly * cock of the walk,' and, for
the time being at any rate, master of the whole Moroccan situation.
At the hour of writing, the question of a Conference to settle the
question is under discussion, and the French, despite the refusal of
the British Grovemment to assent, seem inclined to give way to the
Shereefian Sultan's suggestion, which, as everybody is aware, was
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1906 THE COLLAPSE OF RUSSIA— III 41
the BuggesticHi of Germany. The British standpoint is perfectly
Bunple, becanee we are determined to carry out our obligations towards
tiie Republic in the letter and the spirit. Having declined the Sultan's
proposal of a Conference, we are at perfect liberty to comply subse-
quently with such a request if , in the meantime, France may enter
into an agreement with Grermany to settle Moroccan afiEairs by means
of that instrument. It cannot be too clearly stated that the attitude
of England in this question has been remarkably loyal and straight-
forward. Having pledged ourselves to support French poUcy in
Morocco, we have consistently done so, and we are prepared to con-
tinue so doing. The notion that has been put forward that England
has been trying to drag France into the ring with the object of bringing
on a war between France and Qermany is, of course, sheer nonsense.
Our own desires in the matter have not even been consulted. We
stand, and shall continue to stand, by France simply because we
entered into an agreement with her to do so. Seldom has British
policy been more dignified and correct. It would seem to be certain
tiiat France will in this question ultimately give way to Qermany.
For reasons outlined above, France does not desire to try a bout with
Germany ; nor can it truthfully be said that the insignificant military
Uace that England, in the event of war, could send to her support in
France is calculated to encourage her in this respect. After all,
France is a Continental Power. She is prosperous ; why risk defeat
and complete ruin ? Had England conscription, unquestionably
France would have stood firm against Qermany ; as it is, England
might destroy the Qerman Navy and Qermany's mercantile marine
and foreign trade, but Qermany might recoup from France on land
all that she had lost from England on sea. That is the French — and
also the German — ^view ; and these considerations will unquestionably
govern M. Rouvier's attitude, not only with regard to Morocco, but
on all other questions connected with Qermany.
In all this the most remarkable feature has been the attitude of
Grermany, whose motives in going into Morocco at all are to many
vague enough, but whose reasons for making a casus heJU of the ques-
tion seem surpassing strange. And yet they are not at all strwge.
In tiie first place Grermany's economic interests in Morocco are real,
and those who have closely followed Grerman politics are aware that
Morocco has for a long time been looked on as one of tiie ' possibih-
ties ' of Gkrman enterprise in the future. For years it has played a
prominent part in the Pan-German programme ; and when England
agreed to give France a free hand in the country Grermans instinc-
tively felt that they had been passed over as of no consequence, and
deep was their resentment. If at the time of the Anglo-French
agreement Germany made no sign, it was simply because Russia
still threw her shadow over European politics and was the ally of
France. The great mistake in M. Delcass6's career was his omission
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42 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY July
to notify (Jermany of the arrangement, for by so doing he would
have deprived Qermany of all legitimate ground for interfering, as
she has since done. As it was, Germany was able to play a waiting
game in the hope of something turning up. And when subsequently
challenged by Germany, France, deprived of her ally, had no option
but to brave it out, or admit (Germany into her counsels. Thus, by a
technical fault in diplomacy, M. Delcass6 defeated the whole object
of his Moroccan policy.
But it is not only rancour, or the value of her prospective economic
interests, that has led (Germany to make Morocco a fighting issue.
Her most serious motive was to break up the friendship between
France and Great Britain. Six months ago Germany would never
have dreamed of using Morocco as a lever to bring pressure upon
France, but the dislocation in the balance of European power con-
sequent on the defeat of Russia has placed her in a position of vantage
such as she has never enjoyed before. By posing as the guardian of
the integrity of the Sultan's dominions, the (German Emperor can
legitimately cross-examine France as to her intentions in Morocco,
which he can now use as a thermometer to gauge the temper of France.
From the Grerman point of view the whole thing has been a test case.
The horrors of war have been graphically depicted ; in a word, France
has been given to understand that the friendship of England from
the military point of view is a poor substitute for the legions of Russia.
And as Germany has taken very good care to be prepared for any
emergency, the French Cabinet, fearful of the consequences of beard-
ing Grermany, has acquiesced in Germany's demands. The reason
why Germany dreads the Anglo-French ' entente * is the reason why
M. Delcass^ was compelled to retire. In the firm friendship of France
and England Germany sees hostility to herself. German policy
looks far ahead. It works silently for the future. It seems to have
made up its mind that England is the enemy. That is the situation,
and with the contingencies arising out of that situation both England
and France will have to reckon.
It is the fashion somewhat to poke fun at the German Emperor's
policy, and here and there one overhears remarks about Germany
having 'played herself out.' No more egregious mistake could be
made. At this moment she is the leading Power on the Continent.
Russia, for the next twenty years, is poHtically a dead letter, and
her place, as referee of Europe, will be taken — has been taken — by
Germany. If France cannot brace herself to independent action she
may find herself the dupe or the vassal of the German Chancellor,
the once simple courtier who is now a prince.
Austin. F. Harrison.
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1905
THE COLLAPSE OF RUSSIA
IW^GERMANY AND BELGIUM
If the war between Japan and Russia has levolutionised the position
VI the Far East, we may before long have cause to exclaim that it has
produced a not less startling change in the situation of Western
Europe. A new Power holds the Eastern stage, but at the same
moment an old Power, whose sj^tem of policy has always been merci-
less, has acquired on the Western a military preponderance that will
caQ for all the vigilance of the friends of liberty if it is to be restrained.
The downfall of Russia leaves Grermany under the Prussian segis in-
comparably the first military Power on the Continent. Her numbers,
and still more the strategic advantages of her position, give her an
incontestable superiority over France, and, now that Russia has
become for the moment a qwi'nJtill n^gligeable in Europe, she is not
refraining from showing her sense of it in the old Bismarckian manner.
It is settled design, not tactless egotism, that has led the Emperor
William to affront France in Morocco, and the insult may soon develop
into an injury that no high-mettled nation could endure. The French
President and people are all for peace, but even their patient philosophy
may not have contemplated having to receive orders from. Berlin.
The Moroccan problem was to have provided France with a gratifying
triumph ; the (German Emperor is bent on converting it into a humilia-
tion, and only the prompt and vigorous action of Great Britain may
suffice to save the situation and avert an international calamity.
It is not only in Morocco that German policy has for some time
past been hatching mischief, and in its habitually careless way the
British Government has remained ignorant of, or indifferent to, what
was happening almost before its gaze. No one has ever affirmed
that England follows a settled, systematic policy in her foreign affairs.
It is nearer the truth to say that she commits a succession of blunders,
and then by a stroke of genius or good fortune repairs them all by an
alliance with Japan or the revival of the entente cordiak. But the
situation in Western Europe is not identical with that in the Far
East. In the Chinese provinces and on the Sea of Japan, Japan has
done the work alone ; in Europe, when and if the blow falls in Lorraine,
43
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44 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY July
England must be ready to do her share of the work. If it is made
clear in good time that she has both the intention and the power to
play her part in the maintenance of the balance of power in Western
Europe, the menacing clouds at present obscuring the horizon may
pass ofi without breaking in a storm. But if she falters, the blow will
have been delivered before her intentions are revealed in action,
and the effort to retrieve an initial catastrophe may prove beyond
her power.
While Morocco is in everybody's mouth — and it may just as
easily furnish a casus beUi as did a Hohenzollem candidature for the
Spanish throne thirty-five years ago— there have been still clearer
indications for some time past of Qerman plans in the sister kingdoms
of Belgium and Holland. In speaking of those States it may be
necessary to draw a sharp line between the purpose and projects of
their Governments and the sympathies of their peoples ; but until
there is a revolution the political action of a country is directed by
the ruler and his Government. The immense progress made by the
German propaganda in those States within the last few years appears
to have escaped notice. It has been more remarkable in Belgium
even than in Holland, where a German prince is the sovereign's con-
sort. That the Belgian official world has long been mistrustful of
• France is no great secret. In the last generation it was the policy of
Napoleon the Third that caused the dread ; in the present it is
the fear that a closer alliance with her might lead to an inroad
of Republicanism fatal to monarchical institutions. That fear has
not been diminished by the extreme anti-clerical action of recent
French Ministries, and tiie sjonpathy of the Catholic party in Belgium
— the larger half of the nation — has, consequently, been temporarily
alienated from France. This natural tendency, has harmonised with
and promoted the plans favoured by the Belgian Government. The
gravitation towards Germany through dynastic considerations has
now been encouraged, if not accelerated, by a religious movement
that has stilled, if not stifled, the sympathy naturally felt by two
branches of a kindred race speaking to a great extent the same tongue.
But it may be very much questioned whether the gravitation of
Belgian opinion towards Germany would have been so pronounced as
it has become during the last two years if it had not been also alienated
during that period to as great an extent from England as it has been
from France.
Down to the year 1885 the reliance of the Belgian nation on the
firmness and efficacy of British protection was perfect and without
doubt. In that year speeches were made in the House of Commons
to the effect that England could no longer be expected to champion
Belgium in every eventuality. This was not an exposition of policy
by the British Government, but it was the opinion of responsible
persons who^had been Ministers. The old belief in Belgium that,
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1906 THE COLLAPSE OF BUSSIA-IV 45
whatever the othen might do, one of the gaaranteeing Powers might
be impUcitty troBted, was then radely shaken, and during the Boer
war the unfriendly agencies always operating in foreign countries
widened the breach, not merely by representing that England's
guarantee was not to be relied upon, but that she had not the power
to make it good. Nothing has happened since to undo the mischief
wo^ed by designing men with regard to Anglo-Belgian relations in
1899-1900. On the contrary, those relations have been made worse
by the anti-Congo campaign. There are some persons who feign to
think that the Belgian people ought not to resent the unqualified
attacks on their system and their countrymen in Central Africa.
Thdr views on human nature, to say nothing of national spirit, must
be peculiar. The incontestable truth is that the Belgian people
resent these attacks just as much as we should do any similarly sweep-
ing changes on our rule and our compatriots in India. The realfy
singular thing in the international situation is that the same senti-
mental outburst, pitched in a key of frenzy, which cost us the cordiality
of the Sultan of Turkey— a really indispensable ally for us with sixty
million Mahomedan feUow-subjects and interests that should be pre-
dominant in several of the most important countries of Islam — ^has
now probably lost us the trust and goodwill of the one Continental
people that really desired to possess our friendship and confidence.
But the irony of the two occurrences is revealed in the circumstance
that it is Germany who has benefited by our blunders. At Con-
stantinople her influence has long been supreme ; at Brussels the pro-
tection of Germany is solicited and relied upon. To complete the
contrast between the results from a system of practical statesmanship
and those of an inscmciant zeal for unattainable humanitarian ideals,
it would only need for the truth of my conviction to be established
that the Foreign Office was lured on in 1902-3 to make its attack on
the Congo Administration by the encouragement and half-pronuses
of Germany.
The first object and duty of a Belgian ruler is to preserve the
neutrality and independence of his country and to keep it free from
the ravages of war. In 1870 Belgium, with the vigilant support of
England^ maintained her rights intact; during the crisis of 1875
preparations were made to ensure the active participation of this
country in the defence of Belgium against Germany. Now the situa-
ti<m is altered. The Belgians mostiy fear that in any war the tempta-
tion to the French to move down the Meuse Valley and secure a fair
field for offensive operations from Liege may prove irresistible. The
dcnninant wish now is to keep out the French instead of the Germans,
as in 1870 and 1875. This desire is increased by the conviction that
idiibt a treaty with Germany would deter the French from crossing
the frontier, a similar arrangement with France would not restrain
the Germans, and might very probably impel them to conmience an
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46 THE NINETEENTH GENTUBY July
offensive movement for the protection of their right flank that would
entail the inclusion of a large part of Belgium within the field of
operations. The first advantage, from the Belgian point of view, of a
' protecting ' treaty with (Germany is that it would be the most effica-
cious means of keeping opposing armies out of the country. But it
has other contingent recommendations that make it scarcely less
attractive. The support of a victorious Germany — and no other
result appears, in Belgian opinion, to be possible — ^would provide an
efficient shield for the Congo State against the alleged rapacity of
England. Finally, the ulterior risks from the friendship and protection
of (Germany are deemed less than those from the side of France.
An easily victorious France might wish to convert Belgium into a
Departement de la Dyle, whereas Germany would no more interfere
with the dynasty than it does in Saxony or Bavaria, and would limit
any union to the conditions of a ZoUverein.
There are obvious considerations, therefore, that explain the
gravitation of Belgium towards Germany. The practical advantages
are not to be overlooked ; and additional weight has been given to
them by a feeling of resentment towards the English for their attacks
on the Congo Admimstration, and by no little apprehension as to the
security of that State against our aggression. Of the reaUty of the
movement no doubt can be entertained, but whether it has found
formal expression within the four comers of a regular convention is,
naturally, one of the closest kept secrets of diplomacy. There are,
however, many well-informed persons who are convinced that a secret
treaty was concluded, seventeen or eighteen years ago, between these
neighbours as the consequence of the belief referred to that England
might no longer be impUcitly trusted. If such an arrangement was
concluded, it is probable that its stipulations, through the lapse of
time and the change in the European position, now require some
modification, and possibly some enlargement. The benevolent neu-
traUiy of Belgium on behalf of Germany, to be converted into an
active partnership under circumstances that we do not know, would
seriously embarrass the French position on the north-east frontier,
and would put an end to all the favourite schemes of French
strategists.
In Holland the progress of the German propaganda has been less
pronounced than in Belgium, because there was no need to attain the
same definite results. The strategical position of Holland would count
for nothing in any inmiinent European struggle. The active partici-
pation of her army alone, and without the co-operation of Belgium,
or the South Netherlands, would never turn the scale in any great
struggle. No one menaces Holland at the present time. German
policy is in accord with the wishes of the Dutch people, who mainly
desire to be left alone. There is a spreading conviction in Holland
that httle States such as it is are helpless beside great empires, and
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1906 THE COLLAPSE OF RUSSIA— IV 47
diis has fostered an apathy that pieoludeB the ladoption of a more
spirited and prescient policy. The attitude of the Dutch in view of
German aggression in the future is one of indifference. They are
assured that under no circumstances will Qermany /perpetrate any act
of agression at their expense, and as their dynasty promises before
long to be a purely German one, there are many who will philosophi-
caUy accept that change as an indication of the natural fate of their
country. Of course there is truth in the recent assurances of a Dutch
official, that there is a powerful party in Holland who cling to their
independence and old-fashioned ways, and who detest the idea of
being disciplined by the Prussians, but unfortunately they are not
shaping the policy of their country at the present hour. That is
bdng done by Dr. Euj^r, and the moulding of the destinies of this
little nation in his hands is the more insidious because his policy
harmonises with the characteristics of the nation in requiring only
somnolent inaction until the opportunity for effective useful action
shall have passed by.
The defection of some States, the weakness of others, imposes
<m tiie British Grovemment an enormous responsibility at the present
juncture. On its wisdom and promptitude during a critical period,
the length of which cannot be foreseen, the political fabric of Western
Europe depends. Grermany, well knowing that the Triple Alliance is
almost moribund, and clearly perceiving that the discontent of her
own allies, as well as the profound distrust of her intentions felt by
the whole of the British people, will soon leave her isolated in Europe,
is girding up her loins to crush France whilst Russia is too crippled
to come to her aid, and before the British people fully arouses itself
to the necessity perhaps of sending half a million men to support the
French at Chalons. To strike a people set on peace, and with no
thought of aggression in their minds, in this sudden and unscrupulous
manner will be a crime against humanity, but history shows that it
is a method often favoured by the House of Prussia. There has been
but one slight modification in the HohenzoUem family policy, due
to what is magniloquentiy called the progress of civilisation. Whereas
Frederick the Great could carry out his plans the moment he had
decided to do so, the Emperor William has to take some account
of appearances and to create a justification that shall allay the German
conscience. This may require a littie time, but it will not be difficult.
In such matters the German conscience is not hyper-sensitive. The
Emperor has but to show that through France he is striking the
first blow against England, and the trick is done. ' England's Arch-
enemy ' is too astute not to know that.
The paramount question of the hour is. How is England going to
prevent the perpetration of a monstrous iniquity ? She can only do
so by promptly exercising all the means and all the influence at her
disposal It is said — I know it is believed in the highest quarters —
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48 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY July
that (rennany can be deterred from prosecuting this adventure by
the threat — no, by the clear perception without a threat — of what
England can do upon the sea. It has been glibly written that British
intervention will cost (Germany her fleet and her colonies. This boast
may not bear critical examination. The German navy is not yet strong
enough to cope with the British in a contest for the mastery of the
seas, but ifcs leaders undoubtedly look forward to put our mettle and
our efficiency to the test in the earlier phases of the struggle, and to
saving their fleet for another day in its safe places of retreat during
the later. And as for her colonies, they are probably safe because
they present no great attractions for acquisition. The deterrent
provided, then, by what are called the certain consequences of British
intervention is not so efficacious as appears to be believed. If Qreat
Britain intends to restrict any intervention on the side of France to
the ocean^ that will not prevent the (German Emperor from carrying
out his projects. He must, of course, be prepared to lose something ;
but if he were to triumph over France, as he is convinced that he would,
his gains would so immeasurably exceed his losses that he could be
indiflerent to the latter. Among the most prized of those gains, in his
mind, would be this : If France is again overthrown, one of the con-
ditions forced upon her will be the restriction of her army to a limited
number, which will leave Germany free to diminish the expenditure
on her own army and to increase that on her navy, and to make it a
really colossal force. That peril should be considered by every British
subject anxious for the security of his island home, for it wUl surely
be the penalty of any shortcomings in our support of France, or in
our appreciation of the dangers of the existing position of affairs.
The notification that any co-operation with France against unpro-
voked aggression would not be restricted to naval operations might
have a really deterrent effect, for, although it is the custom in Gtermany
to speak lightly of the British Army, it is still not forgotten that
we did send a quarter of a million men to South Africa, and that,
despite many blunders, we did triumph over an obstinate foe and
great natural difficulties. If it were really believed that we would
do now what we ought to have done in October 1870, after the surrender
of Metz, then in all probability (German aggression would never emerge
from the chrysalis of ' bluff ' ; but, unfortunately, there is sceptic-
ism at Berlin as to the thoroughness with which we would support
France in an hour of danger. If we were on genuinely good terms
with Belgium, a means could easily be found for showing the Germans
that we were resolved to act up to the full letter and spirit of our
engagements and their accruing responsibilities. But, unfortunately,
our relations with Belgium are below the sur^tce as bad as they can
be. If they are not, it is quite feasible to do at this m(»nent what
was done in 1875 during a very similar crisis, and to show by the
despatch of a miUtary commission to the Meuse that we do not intend
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1906 THE COLLAPSE OF BU88IA—IV 49
to shirk onr obvions duties in Western Europe. But at this moment
tlus wmj of speaking does not appear to be open to us. For the present,
at all events, it is to Qermany herself, and not to England, that Belgium
lodes for her own salvation.
How, then, can England act expeditiously and efiEeotually for the
preservation of peace ! There is one course that, if taken promptly,
may ensure it, and our influence properly exercised might avail to
secure its adoption. The peace of Europe may be saved not in Paris
(ff London, but in Vienna. The restraining influence of the Austrian
Emptor may effect what no other agency could accomplish. Austria
is a party to the Triple Alliance, but of course there is no obligation
(m her to assist North Germany in an aggressive war of which she
did not approve. Nor would there be any obligation on her to go to
Ae assistance of her ally if England joined France. The same observa-
tions apply to Italy. But an intimation to this effect from Germany's
two partners might produce a salutary impression at Berlin. The
notification from Italy would not have much effect, because it has for
some time been realised that no active help against France could be
counted upon from her. But such an intimation from Austria would
be of very different import. It would be touching the sore spot in the
imier mind of the North Germans when they talk about the possibility
of their coming isolation unless they strike their blow at France quickly.
Whether the Emperor Francis Joseph can be induced, even by his
fervent love of peace, to give the counsel that will preserve it is uncer-
tain, but there are strong reasons in the internal condition of Austria
beisdf that would justify its ruler in entering a firm protest against the
rampagious assertion of Pan-Teutonism. But of course the essential
preliminary for any action by Austria would have to be an assurance
frcmi this country that it would not swerve a hair's breadth from its
determination to stand by France and all those who sought to restrain
the German Emperor by word and deed.
Austria, indeed, as a member of the Triple Alliance, is not under
the same suspicion at Berlin as Italy is, but there is an uneasy feeling
tiiere that she may not always see with the same eyes as the Emperor
Francis Joseph does. It must be remembered that Austria did not
become a party to that alliance from fear or dislike of France. If
she joined it for any other reason than to deter Prussia from seeking
to repeat and extend her triumph of 1866, it was with the idea of secur-
ing help against Russia. Then, after an interval, came the revelation
tliat Prussia had made an ' insurance ' treaty with Bussia against
her, and since that occurrence Austria has been engaged, and not
without success, in establishing better relations with Russia on her own
account. The fact that Russia is no longer so formidable as she was
will very likely strengtheq Austro-Russian goodwill, as both States
may evidently have need of each other. It is necessity, not affection,
that has made Austria so long subservient to her old rival on the
Vol. LVin— No. 341 E
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60 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY July
northern frontier. A long and gloomy period, during wliioh the
Hapsburgs have lived in a state of enforced self-repression, may be
passing away, and the psychological moment for showing that Austria
has recovered her independent judgment may have come at a moment
when no other agency would serve to restrain what is called Glermany,
but which is really Prussia, from embarking upon an unscrupulous
but distinctly tempting adventure.
Austria, like England, would be permanently injured if the schemes
for the final humiliation of France were carried out. Her subservience
to Prussia would be made permanent, the projects of the Pan-Glermans
would be soon put into effect, and the long-talked-of disruption of the
Dual Empire could not be averted. But a bold stand now may bring
salvation. Opposition to Glermany may remedy the political evils
in Hungary, where the (Germans are hated with a fervour that rivals
that of the typical Ulsterman for his Catholic countryman. It will
rally to the Hapsburgs all the elements of loyalty that still abound in
their wide-stretching dominions. The adoption of such a course in
the present international situation would also have no perils, because
it must be clear to everyone that it only needs the defection of Austria
to produce that isolation of Germany, the fear of which is now said to
be the main cause of the Berlin desire to dispose summarily of France.
That result England must at all costs not permit ; but, with the horrors
of war so vividly impressed upon us by what has happened in the Far
East, we must still continue to hope that Europe may be spared similar
scenes, and that, if no other way can be foimd to avert the calamity,
the Austrian Emperor will say the weighty word at Berlin that cannot
be disregarded, and that must turn the scale against the cravings of
an almost insane ambition.
Dembtrius C. Boulqer.
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1906
THE COLLAPSE OF RUSSIA
\.— GREAT BRITAIN, GERMANY, AND SEA POWER
The march of events in the Far East has opened np, as was to be
expected, many subjects of discussion amongst naval and military
cdtics — ^to say nothing of other writers of less scientific habit and
knowledge. Naturally enough, they have not been able to see eye
to eye on every point, but on one they have shown an absolute un-
animity : they agree in declaring that the course of the war em-
phasises anew the overwhelming value of sea power, and, most of
all, tiiat an enormous^ advantage in naval fighting belongs to the
belligerent who ' gets in the first blow.' There has been no difficulty
m perceiving how much in every way Japan gained by obtaining
an almost perfect control of the sea from the beginning of hostilities,
and also that her success in this respect was in large measure the
i^ult of the sudden and unexpected blow dealt the Russian fleet
outside Port Arthur by Admiral Togo's torpedo-flotillas on the 8-9th
of February of last year. The destruction in the Korean Straits
of the Baltic Fleet — ^Russia's last futile challenge in the contest for
1^ naval supremacy of the Pacific — confirmed the Japanese com-
mand of the sea, but the great action in the Sea of Japan might have
had, perhaps, a somewhat difierent ending if the way had not been
prepared for it by preceding events. Should, however, the Czar,
in spite of the disappearance of his battleships and cruisers, elect
to continue the war, and the war become exclusively a land war,
the world may have to reverse some prevailing ideas and acknowledge
that there are two sides to the oft-reiterated and now generally received
idea of the omnipotence of sea power.
After having attached both in theory and practice supreme im-
portance in war to land power, fashion has swung round with one
of its customary and apparently inevitable reactions, to the other
extreme, and it is now usual to accord a decisive influence in the
whole sphere of military operations to sea power, ignoring the most
obvious fact of geography, which is that the ^earth consists of land
and water. A cursory glance at a map — ^and for this purpose it
matters not at all whether the map be large or small — of continental
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62 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY July
Europe, let us say, makes it manifest that war is possible between
nations of the first rank in whose case sea power would count for
very little in the struggle. Further, it is plain that if Japan had
not been able to conduct with vigour and on a great scale her campaign
on land her naval successes, remarkable as they have been, would
have proved not much better than barren. The transparent secret
of her triumph over Russia is to be read in the admirable co-ordina-
tion of both of her fighting services, which in effective combination
have shown themselves adequate to the task of bringing her mighty
adversary to a position of impotence and humitiation such as a year
ago would scarcely have been thought possible. But without Japan's
large, highly trained, and thoroughly efficient armies Russia must
stiU have held Port Arthur and remained dominant in Manchuria.
Yet if there was one nation, prior to this war, in the whole world
which apparently could have dispensed with land power it was Japan.
Possessed of a navy sufficient for defence, her homogeneous people
dwelt peacefully and in security in her lovely islands, presenting
the spectacle of a race living, as it were, in a detached, self-contained
kingdom, liable to attack only from the sea, and protected from the
nearest shores of the continent of Asia by five times as many leagues
of water as stretch between Dover and Calais. But the forces that
in all powerful States, not in process of decay, make for expansion
were growing and fermenting within her, and this fact found ex-
pression in the fuhiess of her military life, which postulated that she
should be thoroughly equipped for fighting by land as well as sea-
She might have pursued a one-sided policy, and, on the ground that
she had few or no responsibilities outside her islands, considered
large land forces undesirable and unnecessary ; but she felt the call
of empire within herself, and made such magnificent answer to it that
the shadow of her power now falls across the half of Asia, nor can
there be much doubt that her relation to that continent will hence-
forward be one of leadership analogous to that occupied by the United
States towards North and South America, as European Powers with
large Asiatic interests will soon probably be made to feel. Japan
has demonstrated that while fine fleets are essential, formidable
armies are also requisite for the success of extended and protracted
military operations by a Power really great.
A comparison is often instituted between Great Britain and Japan,
mainly because of some more or less superficial resemblance of a
geographical character, both holding insular positions, adjacent to
continents, of special significance from a strategical point of view,
but there the comparison ends, and ends with marked and discon-
certing abruptness. Japan, with an * older' people than Britain,
but young in almost every sense worth considering in this connection,
is still at the beginning of the making of her empire, and that for a
long time to come she will continue to be an expanding military
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1906 THE COLLAPSE OF RUSSIA— V S8
Power with ever larger armies and ever more powerful fleets may
be regarded as certain — ^the golden gates are opening wide for her.
Bat the British Empire is, take it all in all, the vastest empire the
worid has ever seen. Her amaring height of power is well described
by an envious Gterman author in a book (' Der Weltkrieg ') whose real
object is to gloat over her coming downfall, which he prophesies
and indeed illustrates in concrete fashion : ' Every sea,' he says, * is
pbnghed by the keels of Bntish ships, and every coast is studded'
with Briti^ coaling stations, while British fortresses frown from
every shore.'
The British Empire, to tell the truth, is about * made ' ; it is not
Hkely to see much furtl^r increase. It may be that, as some black
pessimists allege. Great Britain is at the beginning of the end of her
empire. Prince von Buelow, the Gtorman Chancellor, used words
in a speec]^ deUvered at the time of the British reverses in South
Africa which seemed to suggest that in his opinion the beginning
of the end was even then in sight. ' There goes the setting sun,'
said a Russian the other day in the Far East as he gazed on the back
of a departing Englishman, * and here comes the rising sun,' he added,
as a trim, smiling, diminutive Japanese officer came towards him.
And with this epigrammatic summary of the situation, so far at
least as the Orient is concerned, many will be disposed to agree, for
the supin^iess, the palsied want of energy and the absence of political
foresight in British administration are tiie constant themes, the
staple, of conversation wherever two or three Englishmen are gathered
together in China and elsewhere. 'Backed down again,' or 'We
shall back down again,' are expressions that are painfully familiar
'uL most parts of the British world as descriptive of British foreign
policy. Tet the British fleet, it is claimed, and no doubt claimed
with perfect correctness, was never stronger, better organised, or
more efibctive than it is to-day. On the other hand, the British
army ! A dash, with a mark of interrogation after it, may un-
fortunately be put as a symbol sufficiently descriptive of that un-
known quantity. Plainly the reason why Oreat Britain, in spite
of her magnificent strength upon the sea, has so often to ' take back-
water,' to use the expressive American phrase for the home-made
to ' knuckle under,' is to be found in the weakness of her land forces.
Great Britain places her reliance on her fleet. Depending on
what is practically a single line of offence as well as defence, almost
if not altogether like a frantic gambler staking his all on one throw
of the dice, Great Britain must take infinite pains that her navy
shall not only be an incomparable instrument in itself, but also that
it shall be so situated that it can be used with the utmost speed at
any ffveaa, point ; in other words, it must be in a position to ' get
in the first blow,' a blow so smashing and terrible that her enemy
shall scarce recover from it — such a blow as Togo administered to
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54 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY July
the Baltic Fleet. If she fail in this effort, as she may, then the chances
aie that against a first-class Power, with great armies as well as a
navy of some strength, she is ^ done,' for in all probability the want
of a powerful army will be fatal. Four of the first-class Powers
possess great armies and a navy of some strength : France, Germany,
Italy, and Japan. Of these France, Italy, and Japan are friendly
to Qreat Britain. Russia still has an army, if she has lost her fleet ;
and her menace to India abides. There remains Germany, with
her millions of soldiers and her growing fleet, and not even the most
flamboyant member of the Peace Society will guarantee for a single
day her friendship for Qreat Britain, I imagine, from the bottom
of his heart. In the minds of men deeply concerned for the welfare
of Qreat Britain in these unrestful and in reality critical times, two
thoughts necessarily link themselves together in considering the
problems of possible war ; one is the hostility of Germany as evinced
overtly or covertly by the growth of her sea power and the preten-
sions she founds upon it, and the other is the way in which — the how —
in the event of this hostility materialising in an armed conflict, that
sea power of hers can most quickly and thoroughly be destroyed.
No longer is the discussion of these subjects of merely academic
importance ; that they are vital nuttters the recent redistribution
of our navy shows.
How much they are in the minds of Englishmen appeared in
a curious and striking manner a few months ago when a newspaper
report of certain sentences represented as having been uttered in a
speech by Mr. Arthur Lee, the Civil Lord of the Admiralty, went
echoing round the world. Most English journals — ^the Times was
an exception — made him out, perhaps on the strength of a report
of Mr. Lee's remarks supplied in the usual way by a Press agency,
as having said : ' If, unhappily, war should be declared, under exist-
ing conditions the British navy would get its blow in first before
the other side had time even to read in the papers that war had been
declared ' {Standardy February 4). Mr. Lee subsequently disavowed
having given utterance to tiiis observation, and averred that he
had made no more than a statement of general principles, put into
the following words : ^ The British fleet is now prepared strategically
for every conceivable emergency, for we must assimie that all foreign
naval Powers are possible enemies. Owing to the growth of new
naval Powers we have unfortunately more possible enemies than
formerly, and we have to keep an anxious eye not only on the Mediter-
ranean and the Atlantic but on the North Sea as well.'
As everybody knows, the first report, attributing to Mr. Lee
the words which he denies having used, created a tremendous sensa-
tion in Germany, where they were in some quarters construed as
a ' threat of war in time of peace,' the semi-official German news-
papers in particular making the most or rather the worst of them,
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1906 THE COLLAPSE OF RUSSIA— V 66
as is theii habit when opportanity serves. Numerous articles
appeared in Berlin and other Grerman journals with such exciting
and extravagant headlines as ' British Challenge to Germany,' and
'Warlike Speech against Qermany.' The Berliner Neueste Naoh-
riehien said that it was now known from an English official source
that Great Britain regarded Germany with much uneasiness, and
Ihat the British fleet had been reorganised with the object of watch-
ing the German fleet. Germany, it went on to say, could not be too
thankful for Mr. Lee's speech, for it showed the danger with which
the German Empire would sooner or later have to reckon — a danger
which must be provided against by the pursuance in the most
sixenuous manner of the necessary forward naval programme. The
Post declared that Mr. Lee's words were a trumpet call to the German
people to work with increased zeal towards the completion of their
sea powCT. The Leipziger TageblaU asserted that never since 1870
—an ominous reference — ^had such braggart words from an official
source been employed towards Germany.
The mouthpieces of the Flotten-Verein, an organisation even
more active than our own Navy League, admonished the German
Government and the Reichstag to give heed to the warning, and to
str^igthen the navy with all possible speed. Even after Mr. Lee's
diadaimer had been published the Taegliche Rundschau maintained
that the revelations of the ' British Admiralty Lord ' of the intention
of England to fall suddenly upon her unsuspecting neighbour (0
excellent words !) were not nullified by the new version of his speech.
And so on. The general trend of German comment was to foster
the idea that Germany was genuinely apprehensive of a surprise
attack upon her amiable and eminently harmless ships at the hands of
unprincipled England, against whom the only safeguard was a greatly
increased German navy. Not that this sort of thing had happened
for the first time. Seven months ago, shortly after the North Sea
outrage, in connection with which it is understood Germany played
a peculiar and equivocal part, there was another war scare in Germany,
and Dr. Paasche declared that a surreptitious attack by the British
fleet was dreaded by the German authorities.
The agitation caused in Germany by the early report of Mr. Lee's
speech was conadered in this country so preposterously absurd that
it was dismissed with contemptuous references to a tempest in a
tea-cup — ^an attitude, however, which all the facts of the case as
between Great Britain and Germany were and are very far from
justifying. If it be too much to say that the quarrel England may
have with Mr. Lee is not because of what he said as reported in the
correct rendering of his speech, but because he did not say what
he was originally reported to have said, there are certainly the amplest
grounds for keeping constantly before the eyes of the British pubUc
the immitigable truth that the German fleet is nothing else, and
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66 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY July
oan be nothing else, bat a perpetual menace to the British Empire,
and more particularly to Great Britain itself, the heart of the Empire.
The most important contribution from the German side to the discus-
sion raised by Mr. Lee's speech appeared in the April number of
the Deutsche Revue^ from the pen of the German Admiral Thomsen,
for it elicited a reply, which was published in the May nimiber of
the same periodical, from the English Admiral Charies Penrose
Fitzgerald, an officer on the retired list. Admiral Fitzgerald's
article was in every way a remarkable paper — ^remarkable for its
fairness, its candour, its grasp of the realities of the situation. Far
from being deterred by the wails of the 'take-backwater' school
who denounced Mr. Lee for having committed a terrible indiscretion
and for having acted in a manner that could have no other efEect
than that of inciting the German Navy League to increased exertions
— that it had another result will be seen presently — ^he stated in plain
terms that the growth of the German navy is a threat levelled
at Great Britain. There is not an officer in the British navy that
does not privately think and say, service rules forbidding public
expression, what Admiral Fitzgerald has had the courage to publish
over his signature. He quoted several instances of German hos-
tility to the British Empire and to British conmierce, and then said
that war with all its terrors was preferable to being quietly but
steadily pushed to the wall. The conclusion he came to was that
if Germany continued to ' increase her navy at the present rate we
must regard it as a menace to British supremacy at sea, which, right
or wrong, we must uphold because it is vital to our national existence.'
While regarding war with Germany as a terrible calamity, he stated
that if it was bound to come he would prefer to see it break out at
once rather than it should b^ postponed to a time when (Germany
had grown stronger on the sea.
The publication of Admiral Fitzgerald's article had one curious
and, for every other Power save Great Britedn, highly diverting
result. As was to be expected, the German Navy League used
the article for renewed agitation for the further increase of the
German fleet ; this was a matter of course, but what followed could
not have been anticipated. One May morning the world was in-
formed that the Eaiser, then on his now famous cruise in the
Mediterranean which is having such a potent influence on contem-
porary events, had addressed a telegram to the German Navy League
disapproving of its action in such terms that its President, General
Menges, and Vice-President, General Eeim, felt compelled to send
in their resignations. The League, apparentiy, suffered this severe
rebuff on account of its excess of zeal, which was mcule to seem in-
convenient ; yet soon after the Emperor's return home, explanations
presumably having passed, both General Menges and General Keim
returned to their official positions at the head of the organisation.
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1905 THE COLLAPSE OF RUSSIA— V 57
which had not in reality abated the vigour of its propaganda in the
sUghtest degree. It is impossible to esoape the oonviction that the
whole bnsiness was a pieoe of the merest stage play, or at best a matter
of taotioB and not of pohoy settled and abiding. The Eaiser knows
very well how much he owes to the League, and it is not easy to
exaggerate the enormous share it has had in helping on the realisa-
tion of his ambitious plans — dreams, I had written, but the thing
has long passed the stage of dreams — for the development of his
navy. Its activity is unceasing ; its energies are directed with high
intelligence ; it is at work everjrwhere in Qermany. Its influence
is especially seen in the education of the jroung in the idea that Ger-
many must be a great sea Power as well as a great land Power ;
ihousandfl of schoolboys are taken on excursions every year from
Bedin imd other centres to see the German naval bases with their
dockyards crowded with battleships and cruisers. I do not see how,
from the Grerman point of view, the League is to be blamed ; it is
for us, however, to read, mark, learn, and digest the facts, and govern
ourselves accordingly.
The law of national expansion, from pressure of population for
one thing, which has operated so powerfully in the case of Japan
operates also in that of Germany, but with stronger force, for whereas
the population of the former empire increases by half a milUon a year,
that of the latter increases at twice that rate. Where is this ever-
expanding German population to find an outlet! And at whose
expense 1 The existing colonies of Germany are not a success ;
German expansion finds no fulfilment, no expression even, in them.
The white popidation of all the German colonies and protectorates in
dua year of grace 1905 does not exceed ten thousand souk. The
ELaiser put the ideas which were fermenting in his own mind, and in the
minds of some of his people, into the now historic sentence : ' Unsere
Zukunft hegt auf dem Wasser '—our future Ues on the sea. Prince
von Buelow, speaking in the Reichstag on the Navy Act of 1898, said :
* It is not to be tolerated that any foreign Power should say to us, " The
wodd is disposed of." We shall not permit any foreign Power to
push us aside whether in commerce or politics. Like the British, the
French, and the Russians, we also have a right to a greater Germany.'
The question which arises is. Where is this Greater Germany to be
established, the Greater Germany of the present time being a confessed
failure ? The world is pretty well divided up. The Monroe Doctrine,
and its necessary corollary, the building of an enormous navy by the
United States, now in swift process of accomplishment, cast its aegis
over the Americas. The success of Japan calls a halt to any further
exploitation by other Powers of China and of the rest of Asia as well.
These were the areas of weakness outside of Africa, now partitioned
off like so much baker's dough, with the exception of Morocco and
lUpoU, which German activity and slarength were to enter into and
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58 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY July
possess, but they are now barred, probably for ever barred. As
regards any project of expansion in continental Europe it may be
said at once that Germany for its prosecution needs no navy, for
continental wars, as already mentioned, are ahnoet of necessity exclu-
sively land wars. Yet Germany goes on increasing her navy.
Why?
The answer to the question is surely abundantly obvious — tauto-
logy is permissible in this connection if it ever is. But if there be any
blhid person let him listen to and ponder the language used by Admiral
von Tirpits in the Reichstag when speaking in support of the Navy Act
in 1900. The admiral said :
In eziBting oiroumstances, in order to protect Germany*8 sea trade and
colonies there is one means only — Germany must have a fleet of such strength
that, even for the mightiest naval Power, a war with her would involve such
risks as to jeopardise its own supremacy. For this purpose it is not absolutely
necessary that the German fleet should be as strong as that of the greatest
sea Power, because, generally, a great sea Power will not be in a position to
concentrate all its forces against us. But, even il it should succeed in con-
fronting us in superior force, the enemy would be so considerably weakened in
overcoming the resistance of a strong German fleet that, notwithstanding a
victory gained, the enemy's supremacy would not at first be secured any longer
by a sufficient fleet.
This, it must be confessed, is tolerably plain speaking. The phrases
* mightiest sea Power,' ^ the strongest sea Power ' are, of course, allu-
sions to England, and the aim of Germany is to make her fleet so
powerful that it shall be able, when called upon, to render the naval
might of England of none effect. Taking into account the insignificance
and general worthlessness of the German colonies, the pretext that
Germany requires a great fleet for their protection is remarkably thin,
but if her navy is intended to strike at Great Britain then is easily
explained that extraordinary shrinking sensitiveness she displays
with respect to the &te of her fleet while it is still in course of construc-
tion up to the limit aimed at and desired. For this sensitiveness is
nothing more than hypocritical pretence, to be thrown aside when
she is ready. In her heart of hearts she knows well enough that
England does not dream of suddenly swooping down on her ships and
destro}dng them. And England cannot stop her from building ships,
and, for that matter, Germany has the right to build as many ships
as she pleases. Admitting this, it yet remains the business of England
to be ceaselessly on the watch, to know exactly what Germany is
doing, and to take what measures are best in the circumstances.
As it is, the German fleet is no negligible quantity. Seven years
ago, the German navy consisted of 12 battleships, 8 coast-defence ships,
10 large and 23 small cruisers. In 1898 there was initiated the naval
programme, generally termed the Sexennate, by which 7 battieships
and 2 large and 6 small cruisers were added. The Navy Bill of 1900
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1905 THE COLLAPSE OF RUSSIA— V 59
provided for the mcreaae of the fleet to 38 battleships, 20 large omiseiB,
and 45 small cruisers. At the same time proTisiim was made for
replacing every battleship at the end of twenty-five years, every large
cruiser after twenty, and every small cruiser after fifteen. Bat the
Reichstag did not pass the Bill in its entirety, and reduced the number
of cruisers by 13. At the end of last year th^ strength of the German
navy was :
BuiU.
16 Battleships, 1st class
4 Battleships, 2nd class
12 Battleships, 3rd class
11 Cioast-defence ships
4 Armoured cruisers
23 Protected cruisers
20 Unprotected cruisers
125 Torpedo-ships, destroyers and torpedo-boats
1 Submarine.
Building.
6 Battleships, Ist class
3 Armoured cruisers
3 Protected cruisers.
The building programme of 1900 was originally meant to extend
over a period of sixteen years, but the construction of the ships has
been pushed on with such vigour and rapidity that the whole pro-
granmie will be completed within the next eighteen months — that is,
by the end of next year. For all practical purposes it may be said
^t (Germany has an effective fleet of 38 battleships. All these vessels
are concentrated in her home waters within relatively easy striking
range of the British shores. Their fersonnel as well as their materiel
is known to be excellent. They have one notable peculiarity — a
comparatively small coal capacity, a thing which points clearly to the
intention of their being used at no great distance from their base, and
certainly is highly significant.
Demands are being persistently made on all sides in Germany for
a further large addition to this already formidable fleet, and the
Kaiser's recent success in Morocco, the basis of which is that France,
now deprived of any effective aid from Russia, is overmatched by the
German army — the German fleet counts for little so far as France
is concerned — will tend to the increase of German national feeling and
{Hide, and enhance the prestige of the Emperor, who will thus be able
to get his Parliament to vote further supplies to be devoted to the
building of ships. The most recent exposition of German ideas is
found in an article in the Neue Deutsche Rundschau for June, its,
author, Herr von Gerlach, pointing out very forcibly, and without
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60 TEE NINETEENTH CENTURY July
any concealment whatever, that it is only by Germany building
a powerful fleet that England can be held in check. Many
Englishmen seem to deprecate calling attention to the fact that
the growth of the Qerman navy is a menace to Oreat Britain,
because they say every statement of the kind is used as a fresh
argument by the Qermans for going on with their forward pro-
gramme with greater zeal. On the surface this is true enough, but
cherishing as Germany does her hope of a future empire on the sea,
may it not be suggested that she would in any circumstances have
been equally in earnest to realise it ! To be very much in earnest is
of the essence of the German character, and it is for the British people
absolutely necessary to learn how very much in earnest Germany is
over her navy ; the lesson has not been fully learned yet, and until it
is all efforts to focus public attention on what is going on in Germany
are to be encouraged and welcomed. It must be driven home to^the
nation that German preparations must be met by British preparations
on a far greater scale. To call this a war-policy is ridiculous ; it is
really a peace-policy, for it is the only way to make certain that the
relations between Great Britain and Germany shall remain pacific.
Thus, for every two German battleships three British battleships
at least should be built, though four would be much better. Unfortu-
nately, the naval programme of the British Government provides for
nothing of the kind, as the following list shows :
Batdeship ProgrammeB, 1899-1906.
Great Britain : 1899, 2 ; 1900, 2 ; 1901, 3 ; 1902, 2 ; 1903, 3 ; 1904, 4 ;
1906, 2.
Germany : 1899, 3 ; 1900, 2 ; 1901, 2 ; 1902, 2 ; 1903, 2 ; 1904, 2 ;
1906, 2.
Totals : Great Britain 18, Germany 16.
The stationing of a British fleet in the North Sea, strong enough to
defeat and destroy any Grerman fleet which could be opposed to it, is
vital to the very existence of Great Britain, for a defeat at the hands
of Germany would inevitably lead to the prompt and comparatively
easy landing of a German army in Scotland or the north of England,
and against it we could hardly hope to prevail. The recent redistri-
bution of the Navy, by which the Channel Fleet, consisting of twelve
battleships and five armoured cruiseis, is interposed between Great
Britain and Germany, is, of course, a step in the right direction, the
only wonder being that something of the kind was not done before ;
but more ships than these are needed for the efiective control of the
North Sea and the absolute safety of the coasts of the British isles. It
is in every way a good thing that the withdrawal of the battleships
from the China squadron, made possible by our alliance with Japan
and the victories of our allies, will set free a number of valuable and
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1906 THE COLLAPSE OF BU88IA—V 61
powerful vessek for defence or offence in home waters. Bat even in
tiiat case more ships are required for complete security.
It is because Germany is an * amphibious ' Power that she is so
extremely formidable, and this is a fact which cannot be too often
impressed on the public. The series of defeats and disasters which
has overwhelmed the Russian army in Manchuria leaves the German
army without a peer in Europe, and gives to Germany a freer hand
throughout the world than she has had for many a year. At this
m(Hnent the Kaiser dominates the Continent — a heady position for any
man to hold, and especially for such a man as the restless and ambitious
William the Second. His magnificent army and almost as magnificent
navy are ready to his hand — the temptation to use them must be
great ! It is painful to contrast the British army, the deplorable con-
dition of which is certainly just as well known to the Kaiser as to us,
with that of Germany. One indeed is sometimes tempted to ask if
ihexe is any British army at all, and yet Great Britain has just emerged
from a long and costly war, which not only taxed her resources beyond
belief, but should have taught her that to be a great sea Power is not
enough.. Our condition, from the fighting value standpoint, is no
better than it was before the war in South Africa. Witness Lord
Roberts, whose testimony is free from all suspicion. In a letter
addressed to the Press two or three weeks ago he said that, while the
British colonies had gained something from the war, ' England alone
seCTos to have learnt but little .... and to be content to allow the
nation to sink back into its old state of unpreparedness and ineffi-
ciency, unmindful of the unnecessary sacrifice of life and money which
such unpreparedness and inefficiency may again entail, and to even a
greater extent than was the case in South Africa.' In the same letter
the Field Marshal pleads strongly — conscription being set aside as
impracticable — for the manhood of the nation to turn its attention
seriously to becoming proficient in the use of the rifle, so that it shall
1>ecome a vast, unenrolled army of first-class marksmen. The subject
is of tike utmost importance, and it is to be hoped that his words will
not fall on barren ground, but one doubts. If remarks such as those
credited to Mr. Lee stir up Germany, they should surely have had
an enormously powerful reflex action in waking up England and
Rfigliitli public opinion to tiie deep gravity of the situation ; but at
tiie moment it seems as if nothing in the world would have this efiect.
Robert Machbat.
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62 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY July
NATIONAL DEFENCE
A CIVILIAN'S IMPRESSION
It is doubtful if any paper written by a * mere man in the street '
can be of aervioe. If general oonsiderationB may be weighed, it can
only be on the principle, too common amongst us, that setB too high
a value on half-trained observation. On the other hand, experts on
special work may be inclined to take too limited a view, and an all-
round sketch of a civilian's impressions may have, in some measure,
a truer perspective.
Let us see, then, how the average civilian Volunteer looks at the
necessity for national defence.
First, it is striking how unanimous has been the impression that
as long as we keep up a powerful fleet we may be remiss, as com-
pared with other nations, in regard to the maintenance of numerous
land forces. We are a happy-go-lucky people, anxious to give our
natural love of individual independence as much scope as possible.
We dislike to be ordered about. We persuade ourselves that it is
not necessary we should be ^ dragooned ' ourselves, if we pay fairly
heavily for substitutes, who can navigate and fight our waiships and
secure us against invasion. We were successful at sea in the days
of our grandfathers ; why should we not be successful now f
This attitude of mind is, to say the least, very optimistic. Science
has made great progress since the time when the last great naval
battles were fought. The fleets that can steam from twenty to twenty-
three knots an hour can hardly be compared with the old ' wooden
walls,' dependent on the winds. Nor can the two- and three-deckers,
fitted with steam-engines of the period of the Crimean war, be com-
pared with the fast-moving ironclads of to-day. The relative work and
tactics to be got out of such machines during a war with our neigh-
bours, similarly armed, cannot be accurately known, nor can the
result be looked on as certain to prove our superiority. The new
guns, the new explosives, will tell at sea, and will greatly change
all known conditions of battle. It is not only work on the surface
of the sea, but work below water, which will tell in a new struggle
for victory. The torpedo, and above all the submarine vessel.
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1906 NATIONAL DEFENCE m
are new iaotois. Ships will be built which will carry * submarines/
whose powers of destruction may ' knock into a cocked hat ' the best
of our * floating citadels.' Vertical or plunging fire» that shelb
may pierce decks, will co-operate with torpedoes and submarines.
Qiemistry is constantly altering the force of explosives, and mechani-
cal improvements ensure accuracy of range and novel powers of attack.
The estimate made that no enemy will ever be able to land more
than small expeditionary forces on our coast seems to rely more on
hope and on imagination than on any certain base of calculation.
What army have we to depend upon if our calculation fail re-
garding t^e power of the fleet to keep all enemies at a distance,
however powerful may become their naval armaments !
It is strange to read now of the pride with which Lord Aberdeen's
Cabinet regarded their equipment of 30,000 men to fight the Rus-
flians in the Crimea. It was said that no such armada, carrying so
great a power, had ever put to sea. The French, the Turks, the
SaidiDians, with whom we carried out the behests of Europe to
'curb the Muscovite,' showed, to be sure, in far greater strength
in proportion to their populations, but we gloried in our * n^ignifi-
cent' achievement. Yet at the end of little more than a year's
war we were enlisting Glerman legions, and had in the field to be
thankful for French assistance in resisting the Russian attack at
Inkerman. Agwi, when a mutiny broke out in Bengal, we were
only able to vanquish a sepoy army by the aid of the gallant native
troops who remained * faithful to their salt.' It was only by a series
of happy accidents on both these occasions of trial that we were
able to pride ourselves on success, and that our Gtovenmient escaped
the obloquy of sacrificing our brave soldiers to political needs.
Meanwhile we had seen what giant forces were necessary to wage
war by the sacrifices made by Americans to maintain the Union
under Grant and by the Confederate armies under Lee. The same
lesson was taught by the slaughter near the Rhine and the
surrender of Napoleon the Third at Sedan, when Germans camped in
Paris, not, as in 1815, the allies of others, but * fighting for their
own hand,' unaided by any power but the mighty force of their
own prudent prevision and preparation ; and yet we did practically
nothing but adopt a breechloading rifie. The necessary expansion
of a small trained army in peace into a larger trained army for war
stall remained unprovided for, save for a reserve so limited that it
but emi^iasised our policy to ^ resist militarism.'
And now the Boer war has occurred, and we have been a little
startled to find that against farmers and ranchmen we could not be
sure of success save by the help of our colonial friends, and by the
absence on our opponent's side of any ally who could hamper the
free passage of our troops by sea. What would have been our fate
had any European ally been found by the Boers ? It is humiliating
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64 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY July
enough to have to ask the question, and contemplate the inevitable
answer.
And now, turning to the reserve power, what have we ? Have
we kept up the tradition of our forefathers, who insisted that a ballot
for service for the MiUtia was part of the British Oonstitation I Who
has ever heard even his grandfather talk of such a thing as the Militia
ballot as belonging to the practice of his time ? Does any Militia
officer believe that his regiment could meet foreign trained troops
and not be at terrible disadvantage in relative shooting and manoeuvr-
ing power in the men and knowledge in the officers ? Artillery is
all-important. What artillery have we provided for the 'Conati-
tutional force * ? — ^nay, the ' fine old Constitutional force.* Every-
one knows that against the foreigner's batteries these gallant county
boys would be led as sheep to the slaughter. 'Unfit' says every
critic. Unfit indeed, but not by their own fault. They do all they
can in the time and with the means allotted to them ; but it would
be simply wanton cruelty to put the MiUtia into the field even against
a regular army of 100,000 foreigners in training, and with the artillery
such foreigners would have. All honour to the members of these
regiments that they persistentiy camp and march and drill each year,
knowing how they would be sacrificed. Were it not that many of
these officers and men saw the Dutch farmers fight in South AMca,
and can now give some instruction, one might be tempted to call
their yearly training a mere parade.
And, lastly, the poor Volunteers, hapless makeshifts, gallant stop-
gaps ! who would vainly sacrifice themselves for a thoughtiess country.
It is pitiable to think of Britain depending on a reserve which has one
field-artillery gun where it ought to have 100, and can only show
trained officers in about the same proportion. The Volunteers in
face of a trained army's invasion would have no chance of fighting
successfully as regiments. If their corps were disbanded, very
many of them would be of use individually as men able to reinforce
the rank and file of the Regulars. Some, also, would undoubtedly be
of service in the garrison and heavy batteries.
It is for experts to point out in detail how this mob of gallant
fellows can be organised, improved, officered by men trained to be
officers, and generally made capable of doing what the auxiliary
forces wish to do for the State. It is for ' the man in the street '
as represented in the Conmions to say that aU excellent theories must
be backed by material and money to work out the theories. Unless
we have enough men, and enough skill in the leaders provided for the
men, we shall never be able to consider ourselves morally, or in a
military sense, the equals of foreigners. Our men may individually do
their best, and after all may only have the bitterness of thinking that
all their self-sacrifice is merely sacrificing the nation, in giving it a
false conceit of itself and in lulling it into a false security, by dreaming
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1906 NATIONAL DEFENCE 66
it has a defence which is no leal protection. What is not given by a bad
system is, however, partly supplied by the patriotism of individuals.
Individual effort comes to the aid of the nation. Militia regi-
ments bound to serve only at home, or within a given radius away
from home, ask to be sent to the ends of the earth. These Militia
i^;iments in the late war were employed intact, often to guard railway
and other lines of communication. A large number of Militiamen
](Mned the Regulars, as did also a large number of their officers. The
Volunteers also did all that individual pluck and patriotism could do
to make good a deficient general army organisation. Their home
battalions sent companies which were attache^ to Regular regiments.
These Volunteer companies served under their own officers. Besides
these, many Volunteers joined Yeomanry and mounted corps as indi-
viduals, and were incorporated in the temporary organisation they
joined. Thus did the South African war show what a good make-
shift army could be got together. It also proved that we had little
organised expansive power. Individual devotion supplied the place
that organisation for such emergencies ought to supply. More good
officers, especially for India, must be obtained. We must have the
power to caD on large numbers of men able to shoot and f all^into
their places in disciplined ranks.
^ But why the useless plaint renew V It is known to all that
officers cannot be created in a day. It is known to all that artillery is
aO-eseential, and is not sufficiently strong with us. We leave it all to
John Bull's divinity, good luck, or good pluck. John Bull has the
money, and he thinks the men will ' turn up ' at the right time. All
his inquiries, the last being the Duke of Norfolk's and Lord Esher's
Commissions, have told him the same tale. ^ 'Tis always so after a
war,' he grumbles, and goes again to sleep. ' Our electorate will not
stand conscription.' All service, if only for home work for six weeks,
would be called so by patriotic politicians anxious to make 'party capital'
to the damage of any Government proposing such a thing. Will any
Government face the danger of making such a proposition as that
of compulsory service for our youth ? It is to be hoped some Govern-
ment may, but it is to be feared that no Government will, so we must
make the best of what we have of the army and army organisation,
and see if we cannot get the results of conscription in some measure,
at all events, without it. Meantime we must do nothing to damage
the forces we have, in what seems the hope of some that matters may
be made to look bad enough to induce a future Government to propose
conscription. We may hope for the old Militia ballot, but we have
not got it. In the meantime we must make the most, not the worst,
of the mixed mob of soldiers, trained and untrained, that we possess.
We can at all events educate more officers, and we can, without offend-
ing tiie constituencies, make our artillery far more formidable.
What can we do more ? Perhaps the answer may be found for the
Vou XVm— No. 341 F
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66 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Julj
immediate future in the introduction of drill and miniature rifle-
ranges in all schools which may be influenced by Government action
and Government grants. We do not object to a certain amount of
discipline in schools. The boys like drill, and Volunteer corps have
long been popular among the boys of most of the large public schools.
Why should there not also be tactical classes — good military instruc-
tion— ^and a field day occasionally with the Regulars of the district ?
Abroad it is not considered sufficient to have compulsory service.
The State takes especial care that the youths who are to be subjected
to military service are enabled as boys to have their bodies streng-
thened for that service by phj^cal exercises at school. The Swedish
exercises are perhaps better known than those of other countries.
But almost all have the good sense to encourage bodily fitness. A
regular gymnastic course is part of the education of boys in Switzer-
land, and Government manuals give the drill required of all pupils in all
boys' schools and normal institutions. In France, the Minister of
Public Instruction does the same, an elaborate book being issued giving
illustrations of all the best methods of exercise, from boxing and single-
stick to running, leaping, and vaulting. In GOrpiany ^Tumier'
festivals are the outcome of preparatory /training in the excellent
schools of every State in the Empire. Japan exacts training in arms
and discipline and service from all fit for instruction. Now, if all this
is considered essential, even when the Governments are sure to catch
the youth in the miUtary net, why should we have so little Government
encouragement in Great Britain 1 Would it not be wise for public
school boys to have a little less knowledge of the love-songs of Horace
and Anacreon, and other theoretic ' mind training,' and be a little more
^ quick at the uptake ' of knowledge how best to use their limbs, enlarge
their chests, and have an idea how to work in unison with their fellows
in military defence ? Cooking, camping, marching, shooting, and the
practice of drill can all be taught if an hour a day be given to the
essential knowledge how best to defend hearth and home and the
freedom on which we pride ourselves. To make men fit for war is the
best way to prevent war from reaching us. Such general training
would add no temptations to make war, but would give security that
when ' a strong man armed ' comes to our house he need not hope ' to
take away that which ' we have.
Religion and worldly prudence alike demand from all some self-
sacrifice for the good of the nation. If we are unfit for the patriotism
which asks that all should serve in the defence forces when they are
grown men, let us at all events see that the boyhood of our countrymen
be not passed without the preparation necessary to make them fit
when grown up to be thorough soldiers at short notice. Until we have
this supply of force in reserve we should not impose disabling condi-
tions on the Volunteer reserves we possess.
Argyll.
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1906
THE PROVISION FOR THE MAINTENANCE
AND REPAIR OF OUR FLEET
C0MPABI8OK8 of the lelative stiengtliB of war-fleets aie based not
nnfrequently on lists of ships in which are inchided vessels built,
bmlding, or projected ; and no attempt is made to ascertain what is
die real effective strength of each fleet in vessels ready for service
immediately or at short notice. Under exiflting conditions, when the
great navies of the world are undergoing rapid development, there
are considerable numbers of ships, the expenditure on which repre*
sents enormous sums of money, still incomplete and in various stages
of progress. None of these adds to the present fighting force of the
navy to which they belong, nor can the expenditure upon them become
productive until they are anned, equipped, and commissioned for
service. Amongst completed ships also there must always be some
undergoing small or ordinary repairs which require only brief with-
drawals from active service, and others undergoing refits or reconstruc-
tioDS that put them out of the fighting line for considerable periods.
Until allowance has been made for all these vessels, the real fighting
force of a fleet capnot be estimated. This is a truism, no doubt,
but it is often overlooked in discussions of programmes of naval
construction. Not a few cases have occurred in which mere projects
for additions to foreign fleets have been used as arguments for imme-
diate additions of a similar character to the Royal Navy, whereas
subsequent alterations of the foreign programmes have involved
senous modification or abandonment of these projects. In other
instances the laying down of certain foreign ships has led to pressure
for immediate action of a corresponding nature here, no regard beiog
paid to the greater possible rafodity (^ construction in this countiy
or to advantages obtainable from a policy which, while it defon
commencement of our new ships until detailed designs of foreign
rivals have been settled beyond the possibility of large alterations,
seeores t^ c(»npletion kA our vessels before those built abroad. It
is unnecessary to multiply illustrations of this fact ; that of our modem
annoured cruisers will suffice. The Drake class were laid down
]m% after the Jeamie d^Are^ and the Gressy dass after the Mof^toalm,
but in each case our ships were first in eommission and wer^
67 F2
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68 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT July
individually superior in power. Thorougli settiement of the designSy
careful pre-arrangement and organisation of the work of construction,
ample financial provision, and rapid execution should always be
embodied in our naval policy. In this manner the period which must
necessarily elapse before expenditure on new ships becomes productive
will be minimised.
Possibly the magnitude of this expenditure is not generally appre-
ciated, and it may be well to illustrate it from the current Navy
Estimates (190&-6). In the appendix dealing with new construc-
tion there are enumerated as in progress on the Slst March, 1904,
12 battieships, 16 armoured cruisers, 13 protected cruisers and scouts,
34 destroyers, 4 torpedo-boats, and 24 submarines, the aggregate
first cost of which approaches thirty-eight millions sterling, exclusive
of armaments. Some of these vessels are now completed, others
are weU advanced, and some have only been commenced recentiy.
Their aggregate first cost somewhat exceeds the total first cost of
all combatant ships and ships building for the Royal Navy in 1887,
and the contrast illustrates the gigantic scale on which shipbuilding
operations for a first-class naval Power now proceed, while it
emphasises the necessity for the utmost possible rapidity in
construction.
Turning to completed ships and the influence of repairs and refits
upon effective force, the Navy Estimates may again be used for
purposes of illustration. In the year 1904-6 the 'large repairs'
included work on 11 battleships of modem types, 6 first-class cruisers,
and 6 second-class cruisers. This year (1905-6) 4 battieships,
3 armoured cruisers, 10 protected cruisers, and various smaller vessels
are to be refitted, and nearly 600,0001. will be spent upon
them. These ' large repairs ' are distinct from expenditure on repairs
and maintenance of the fleet in commission and reserve, whose
repairs involve only temporary suspension of ships from active
service. The aggregate estimated expenditure on the repairs
to ships in conmussion and reserve in 1905-6 is estimated to
require about 1,433,0001., and 927,0001. is required for sea stores
for ships, so that on repaipi, refits, and maintenance of the fleet in
1905-6 a total of over 2,950,0001. will be spent. This huge sum,
however, certainly does not err on the side of excess, having regard
to the numbers, character, and equipment of our war fleet and its
aggregate first cost. Indeed, there are reasons for thinking that the
real requirements of the fleet demand a larger average annual expendi-
ture than three millions on repair and maintenance if efficiency is to
be fully maintained. Any falling-off in efficiency of completed ships
consequent on a neglect of repairs necessarily means loss in relative
power, and there is the highest authority for stating that such a loss
has recently occurred in the Royal Navy. When large additions
of new ships are being made and fleets in commission are being
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1905 MAINTENANCE OF OUB FLEET 69
constantiy lecniited from the new ships, theie is the greater danger
that lepaiis of the earlier ships may be overlooked or deferred, and
we are officially informed that this has happened. More than once
in the recent history of the Royal Navy arrears of repairs have become
80 formidable that special measures have had to be devised for over-
taking the work. Mr. W. H. Smith did this in 1877-9, largely increas-
ing the vote for repairs, and calling in the aid of private firms to deal
with machinery. Lord Selbome took special steps in 1902-4, and
for repairs made much larger demands on private firms than Mr.
Smith had made. The facts are important and suggestive; it is
proposed to summarise them.
In his statement explanatory of the Navy Estimates for 1902-3
Lord Selbome said :
That the repairs to ships in the dockyard Reserve should be promptly
executed and that the ships themselves should be passed into the Fleet Beserve
is a matter of great importance. There is no doubt that there has lately been
some congestion of this work in the dockyards, and in order to effect a radical
cure it has been decided when convenient to utilise also the private yards where
ships were built for the purpose of their repairs.
This policy was represented in the Estimates by an addition of
60,000{. on the provision made for ^ repairs and alterations by con-
tract,' and by an increase of nearly 265,00(M. on the total provision
for reconstruction, repairs, and alterations. The total amount assigned
m 19Q2--3 for the maintenance of the fleet (including sea stores)
was 2,963,0(XM. The total expenditure on these heads was about
3,082,OOW.
In his statement for 1903-4 Lord Selbome said :
The policy of relieving the congestion of repairs in the dockyards by sending
ships to be repaired by the private firms which built them has been largely
ic^wed, and the Board propose to continue the policy, which I am convinced
is for the advantage of the Navy.
In this year the provision made for contract repairs was 722,2502.,
as against 175,6002. in 1902-3, and about 116,5002. in 1901-2. The
total estimated expenditure on maintenance and repairs of the fleet
(including sea stores) was over 3,900,0002. in 1903-4, and the actual
expenditure was nearly 4,084,0002. The magnitude of this expenditure
will be better understood when it is stated that from 1886 to 1900 the
corresponding expenditure varied from 828,4002. to 1,942,0002. and
averaged about one million and a quarter.
This vigorous effort to effect necessary repairs of the fleet was
undoubtedly praiseworthy, but there was a want of thorough con-
sideration and provision in framing the scheme, and no trustworthy
estimate was made of the cost involved in its execution. Ships were
sent for repairs to private firms which had not built them, and in
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70 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY July
some cases to finns which had little or no experience of building ships
or engines for the Navy ; while other and competent finns who had
built ships and engines for the Navy and who were well acquainted
with Admiralty work were left unemployed, and both time and cost
were thus increased. As the scope and character of the repairs
needed could not be determined exactly beforehand, it was decided
to proceed on the basis of actual cost of labour and materials, and to
add agreed percentages for establishment charges and profit. The
firms concerned no doubt acted in good faith and the work was super-
vised by Admiralty officers, but the actual expenditure consider-
ably exceeded estimates made by officers of the dockyards on the
basis of their large experience on work of a similar character, and
no sufficient or satisfactory explanation of the excess has been forth-
coming. The Public Accounts Committee dealt with the subject in
successive reports, their attention havin ; been drawn thereto by the
Comptroller and Auditor General. Without entering into details,
one example may be given from the report on the dockyard expense
accounts for 1903-4. On seven battleships and cruisers 788,140{.
was spent in repairs, the corresponding original estimate having
been about 468,0002. The Comptroller also noticed the facts that
in two years (1902-4) over 165,0002. was spent on the repairs of nine
cruisers placed on the sale list early in 1905, and about 284,0002. on
the repairs of six vessels then passed into the list of ships for sub-
sidiary services. He made no further comment; the facts speak
for themselves.
Another notable incident in the year 1903-4 was the transfer to the
dockyards of three battleships which were shown in the shipbuilding
programme as to be built by contract, and for which the anticipated
expenditure in that year was 132,0002. It is admitted that private
firms are better equipped for new construction than for repairs, and
the events mentioned above show that repairs are more costly in
private establishments than in the dockyards. The action taken,
therefore, naturally caused great surprise and disappointment to
private shipbuilders, and Lord Selbome endeavoured to explain it
in his statement on the Estimates for 1904-6. He said :
The progress of the work in the dockyards towards the end of 1908 had
been so satisfieuitory that it became a matter of importance to commence new
constraction in them at as early a date as possible. It was decided, therefore,
to reverse the procedure, and instead of giving out three battleships of the
1908-4 programme to contract, to commence them in the dockyards.
This explanation is neither complete nor satisfactory, and is shown
to be so by facts and figures published a year later in the Estimates
for 1905-6. According to this official statement it was anticipated
that the dockyard expenditure on new construction in 1904-5 would
be nearly 807,000Z. on labour and 489,0001. on materiab (exclusive
of armour). The probable expenditure on labour fell tax short of
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1906 MAINTENANCE OF OUB FLEET 71
tiib estimate, being about 731,6001., a little more than 90 per oent.
of the estimated expenditure ; and this sum included about 26,0001.
for labour on the three battleships transferred from the contract pro*
gramme. It will be seen, therefore, that at the time when this transfer
to the dockyards was made these establishments were not keeping
pace with their original programme for new construction. Of course,
it may be argued that dockyard requirements made it desirable
to commence tiie three ships at tiie date upon which they were trans-
ferred so as to have the work on them in full swing in 1904-^6 ; but
here, again, the published figures do not justify the contention. More-
over, if the necessity existed it ought to have been foreseen in framing
the programme for 1903-4, and not have been an afterthought, as
it admittedly was. In regard to the efiect of the transfer on private
industry it will sufBoe to say that iostead of securing orders for three
battleships, on which in 1901-6 probably two millions sterUng would
have been earned, orders for only two ships were placed, and this
so late in the financial year that the probable expenditure is only
70,0001. Further, the third battleship originally assigned to private
yards has now been ordered to be buQt in a dockyard. Events in
the Far East have necessarily affected our recent shipbuilding pro-
gramme, but such changes as were made in 1903-4 do not indicate
eflSdent administration. Although in regard to both new con-
struction and repairs that year witnessed a want of reasonable
foresight in arranging programmes and estimates, there is comfort
in the Blue-book, which shows that in two jeoxa (1902-4) nearly
seven and a quarter millions were spent on the repairs and main-
tenance of the fleet — or about three times the average expenditure
on a similar period between 1886 and 1900. In 1904-6 it was pro-
posed to spend about 3,600,00U., and this year nearly three millions
should be spent. Special action was necessary, and has been tak^i,
to overtake arrears ; if it was not so wisely directed or economically
organised as it might have been, still the Royal Navy has been
made much more effective. Lord Selbome claims (in his Statement
of February last) that ^ the arrears in the repairs of the fleet have
been overcome,* and adds, *I do not believe the fleet has ever
been in a more perfect state of repair than it is at the present
moment.' He had good reason for satisfaction, and naturally was
disposed to take an optimistic view of the position ; but when he
suggested that in consequence of what has been done in eflecting
repairs, and in removing from the Navy list ships of small fighting
value, the ' liability for repairs ' can be diminished safely to the figure
appearing in tiie Navy Estimates of the current year — less than three
inilUons — ^many of those who have carefully studied the subject
must differ from him. The writer is of that number, and will briefly
state his reasons for ccmsidering that a larger provision ought to be
made if the efliciency of the fleet is to be maintaiQed. He has already
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72 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Jul/
indicated in these pages (see this Review for May 1905) the con-
clusion that the removals of ships from the Navy list recently
carried out or projected have had only a small influence on the reduc-
tion of 541,0002. made in the item for ' reconstruction, repairs, &c.,'
for the current year, and now proposes to deal with the general
question of the principles which should govern that provision in
future years.
In connection with the maintenance and repairs of structures
and machinery, the principle is universally recognised that the cost
of upkeep must be proportioned to first cost. The ' cajHtal account '
cannot be ignored. As the age of a particular structure or machine
increases, the cost of maintenance becomes proportionately greater,
and at length a stage is reached when it is wiser to introduce a new
structure or machine rather than to repair the old. Taking a great
organisation like the Royal Navy, and considering it as a whole with
items of differing ages and types, it may be stated broadly that the
total annual charge for maintenance and repair ought to bear some
proportion — determinable by experience and recorded expenditure
— to the capital account or aggregate first cost. Allowances must
be made, no doubt, for changes in structure, equipment, and types
of ships. For instance, the armour in a modem battleship may
cost about one-third of the total cost of ship and machinery (ex-
clusive of armaments). It would clearly be absurd not to take account
of this fact, as well as of the practical non-deterioration or need of
repair of the armour, in estimating the proper allowance for repairs.
On the other hand, modem warships are full of mechanical appliances,
more or less deUcate in character, while there is a tendency to extend
the use of mechanical power and to depend less on manual power.
CompUcation consequently increases, and the expense of mainten-
ance grows. Increased speeds demand much more powerful and
costly propelling apparatus; the continuous efiort to keep down
the ratio of weight to power leads to greater refinement in design, and
all this tends to increased cost of upkeep. Water-tube boilers cost
more than cylindrical boilers, both originally and in subsequent
service. Quick-running engines cost more for maintenance than
slower-running engines of greater relative weight. Torpedo-boat
destroyers furnish extreme illustrations of these general statements ;
the hulls are of slight constmction ; engines and boilers are of great
power in relation to weight. As would be anticipated in such stmc-
tures and with such machinery, the cost of maintenance expressed
as a percentage of first cost is exceptionally high. A torpedo gun-
boat is relatively more costly to maintain than a third-class cruiser,
and a small cruiser than a larger one or than a battleship. These
differences can only be dealt with on the basis of experience;
but when accurate accounts for preceding ships are available
differences can be allowed for, and a fair approximation made on
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1905 MAINTENANCE OF OUB FLEET 78
ike basis of the first cost of typical ships and the capital value of
a fleet.
The writer has repeatedly and publicly drawn attention to the
remarkable increase in the capital value of the British fleet which
took place while he was the responsible designer for his Majesty's
ships (1885-1902), and to the great effect which that increase in
value must have upon expenditure necessary to efficient mainten-
ance. One of these occasions was the delivery of an address as Presi-
dent of the Institution of Civil Engineers in November 1903. It
was then stated that in 1887 the aggregate first cost of completed
combatant ships of the Royal Navy was about thirty-four millions,
and that ships building represented fully three millions, making the
grand total about thirty-seven millions. When the writer resigned
office in 1902, the corresponding grand total for combatant ships,
built and building, had become one hundred millions. According
to the latest returns (1906) the completed combatant ships aggregate
over eighty-three miUions in first cost ; the ships now classed as of
comparatively small fighting value aggregate six and a quarter millions,
and the vessels building will cost nearly thirty-eight millions, making
a grand total of about 127 miUions. This total makes allowance
for the removal of all the ships recentiy struck off the effective
Hst; and the figures are exclusive of guns, ammunition, and
reserves, which in a modem battleship represent over a quarter of
a million, or about 20 per cent, of the cost of the ship exclusive of
armament.
Expense accounts for the Navy are published annually, and
usually receive but little notice, but they deserve careful study by
all interested in naval mcU^ridy and are treasuries of information,
notwithstanding their unpromising appearance. One can find therein
from 1869-70 onwards a record of the annual expenditure on new
construction, as well as that for repairs and maintenance of the com-
batant ships of the Royal Navy — ^which record is of great value when
associated with the corresponding capital value of the fleet at various
dates. Further, the diligent student can ascertain the first cost
and date of completion for each existing combatant ship in the Navy,
and the cost of maintenance for each ship after completion. Any-
one who will undertake a series of simple, if rather wearisome, calcu-
lations has therefore the means provided for arriving at an approxi-
mation to the annual cost of maintenance of various types of battle-
ships, cruisers, and torpedo-vessels, of different ages, and so can
form an opinion as to a reasonable allowance, in proportion to first
cost, for subsequent cost of maintenance of the several classes and
tjrpes. In this manner — Shaving regard to the value of armour, which
does not sensibly deteriorate, and to other considerations mentioned
above — one can arrive at a figure for the annual minimum amount
which ought to be provided for the efficient maintenance of the
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74 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY July
existing fleet. This method of investigation, carried out in detul
and with full knowledge on the part of the writer of the character-
istics of the ships in question — ^which with a few exceptions have
been built from his designs and under his direction — Pleads him to the
conclusion that, under present circumstances, for efficient mainten-
ance of the fleet and provision for a certain amount of reconstxucticm,
annual outlay of at least four millions sterling is requisite. As the
costly battleships and cruisers now building come into service and
the capital value of the fleet in commission grows, this amount for
maintenance will require a corresponding increase, although more
ships may be struck off the effective list during this period.
When the capital value of the fleet was about one-third that of
the completed ships we now possess, it was found necessary to spend
about one million annually on repairs and maintenance, and there
was reason for thinking that amount insufficient. From 1887 to
1898 the capital value rose from thirty-seven millions to ninety-seven
millions, and the aggregate first cost of completed ships rose in about
the same ratio, but the annual expenditure on maintenance only
varied from about one million to one million and a half. This was
an inadequate provision even when allowance was made for the
large number of new ships built in this period, which were com-
missioned as completed, and which required small outlay on repairs
in their earlier jrears of service. It is now agreed that during this
period repair work fell into the arrears described by Lord Selbome
in the preceding quotations ; and even now, notwithstanding large
recent expenditure, it may be doubted if the condition of some of
the older vessels still reckoned effective is as satisfactory as Lord
Selbome supposed. In any case it would be unwise to presume that
the present year's proposed expenditure can be treated as a normal
provision adequate to maintain the fleet in full efficiency. The
reduction made this year as compared with the two preceding years
is probably excessive; it has been previously shown that recent
removals of ships from the effective list have contributed but littie to
the reduction, and consequently the smaller provision this year must
result either in increased demands hereafter or in lessened efficiency
of important vessels whose thorough refit should be imdertaken at an
early date if their services are to be utilised fully.
There is now general agreement that, in the pubUc interest, it is
desirable to carry out repairs and refits of his Majesty's ships in the
Royal dockyards rather than by private contract. Circumstances
may require, of course, exceptions to this procedure, and private
yards will always remain available for emeigendes. But experience
during the last few years has been conclusive, and Lord Selbome,
in his Statement of February 1905, admitted this when he wrote :
* Henceforth it should be borne in mind that the first business of
the Royal dockyards is to keep the fleet in repair, and accordingly
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190S MAINTENANCE OF OUB FLEET 76
tiie amount of new construction allotted to those dockyards should
be Buboidmated to this main consideration.' This is by no means
a new doctrine, as Admiralty records would show. It has been de-
parted from seriously at times, but always with unfortunate results ;
and it is satisfactory to hare it reaffirmed by Lord Selbome towards
tiie end of his career at the Admiralty, and after a trial on a large
scale has been made of the alternative system.
In the Parliamentary Papers issued this year describing ^ arrange-
ments consequent on the redistribution of the fleet,' and in the
Admiralty instructions to Commanders-in-Chief, an outline is given
of the future scheme for repairs and refits. For the fleet in commis-
sion the repairs of the Channel Fleet are to be done in home dock-
yards, those of the Mediterranean Fleet at Malta, and those for the
Atlantic Fleet at Gibraltar. It does not appear, however, that the
latter establishment is, as yet, adequately manned or equipped to
carry out the whole of the work that will be required by the Atlantic
Fleet. *The aim of the Board,' says Lord Selbome, 'will be to
ensure that in the case of the duumel Fleet never more than two
battleships^ and of the Atlantic and Mediterranean Fleets never more
than one, shall be in dockyard hands at the same time.' The aim is ad-
mirable and will command universal assent, but in practice this is often
likely to prove a ' counsel of perfection,' and the recent accidental
coDiaions in the Channel Fleet illustrate what departures therefrom
may prove necessary under the conditions of actual service. From
the nature of the case, m a great fleet it is the unexpected that happens,
and repairs to essential features of armament, hull, and machinery
must never be unduly delayed. It is further laid down that no ship
shall be in dockyard hands for more than thirty working days in
each year, and that refits are to be ' governed by the condition that
these ships are to be ready for sea in cases of emergency at four days'
notice, unless their lordships' special permission is obtained.' A
ccmsiderable experience leads one to believe that there will be numer-
ous applications for that ' special permission.' When it is requested,
'the desirability of turning over the crew to another vessel will be
considered, and it will be carried out if the refit will take more than
thirty working days.* This rule, it may be anticipated, will fre-
quently have small practical force ; as it is not an unconmion occur-
rence for repairs to occupy a longer time, and to cost more, than was
anticipated. It has always been in the discretion of the Admiralty
to consider and decide whether a commissioned ship requiring
considerable repairs shall be paid off or not ; and that is still the main
feature of the situation. No doubt when other ships are available
to take over the crews of ships which must be in dockyard hands
for Icmg periods it is usually advisable to make the exchange ; but
' hard-and-fast rules ' cannot be universally applied, and their publi-
cation has litUe practical value, since the decision in aU cases must
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76 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT July
rest with the Admiralty. Similar remarks may be applied to the
^ periodical surveys ' provided for in recent regulations^ the first after
four or five years' service, and the second after eight or nine years'.
Such surveys are matters of established practice, and the exact dates
at which they take place or at which the necessary repairs are effected
must be governed by many circumstances and be subject to Admiralty
orders in each case.
At the end of April it was officially announced that the ^ Com-
mittee appointed to inquire into the working of the naval establish-
ments commences its labours at Portsmouth on the 1st of May.' The
First Sea Lord is President, and the Committee includes the Controller
of the Navy, the Secretary of the Admiralty, the Accountant-Gtoneral,
the Director of Dockywls, an Admiral Superintendent, and the
manager of the Fairfield Shipbuilding Company. The TimeSy in
making this announcement, appended an explanation of the scope of
the inquiry ; this was not stated to be official or authoritative, but it
appears to rest on full information. The most important passages
may be quoted :
This inqniry is the necessary corollary to the changes that have been
effected in the distribution of the fleets and the maintenance of all ships in
active commission, or in commission with nucleus crews in readiness for
immediate service. Under these conditions it is essential that the dockyards,
victualling yards, ordnance depdts, and all other naval establishments shall be
administered in such manner as to deal promptly with the repairs and refits
of ships attached to the several fleets not only in peace but in war, and also
with the more extensive refits of ships. . . . Under the new order of things
the prompt and efficient repair or refit of all ships must be the predominant
feature in the dockyards, and it will be the task of the Conmiittee to reorganise
the dockyards with this essential object in view, and at the same time to
introduce such modifications of administrative procedure as will bring the
dockyard organisation into line with that which ensures the financial success
of well-conducted private shipbuilding establishments.
Attention was also drawn to the congestion arising from the large
amount of new construction undertaken by the dockyards, and to the
necessity for a change of system.
It is not proposed to offer any observations on the composition
of the Committee, except to express the opinion that a stronger repre-
sentation of gentlemen experienced in the conduct of private ship-
building establishments might have secured a greater chance of
' bringing dockyard organisation into line ' with that of the former.
But there are certain general considerations respecting the dockyards
which may be stated, as they cannot be disregarded in any arrange-
ments that may be made for improved administration.
The Royal dockyards are primarily naval arsenals established and
developed for the service of the fleet. Their situation on the south
coast was due to strategical considerations. Portsmouth Yard dates
from the reign of Henry VU., Chatham from that of Elizabeth, Devon-
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1906 MAINTENANCE OF OUB FLEET 77
port was established more than two handled jeais ago ; Sheemess
and Pembroke date from 1814, and when they were established steam
propulsion was in its earliest stages, while tiie use of iron for shipbuilding
was not b^[un. At the three principal dockyards, and at Portsmouth
best of all, one can trace the developments and extensions that have
accompanied the growth of our fleet and the introduction of steam-
power, iron and steel as materials for shipbuilding, armour, and modem
ordnance. A walk round Portsmouth Yard furmshes an epitome of
the last century's progress in naval matSriel. During the last sixteen
years the extraordinary increase in the numbers and size of our war-
ships has outgrown the resources of our naval ports and estabhsh-
ments; large sums have been provided under the Naval Works
Loan and spent on extensions and improvements at home and
abroad. Even so, existing home yards have not kept pace with the
advance in shipbuilding, and Rosjrth has been proposed as a new
naval base, while further extensions at Chatham are contemplated
before the great additional accommodation at Devonport is ready
for use.
Throughout the history of the Royal dockyards, building as well
as repair and refits of ships have formed a considerable part of their
operations. Indeed, prior to the introduction of iron and steam for
nai^ purposes nearly all shipbuilding was done in the Royal dock-
yards under peace conditions. Pembroke Yard was established
solely for shipbuilding. All the other yards built ships, and
private firms were called in when emergencies arose, as in the
Cdmean War and wh^i the first iron ships and tiie earliest
ircmdads had to be built. On the machinery side, the steam
factories, established at all the existing yards except Pembroke,
were empfoyed only on repairs, new engines being built exclusively
by private firms. Since 1869, when our first seagoing irondads were
ecmmienoed, private firms have had an increasing share of shipbuilding
for the Royal Navy, but the Gk)vemment dockyards have been em-
ployed continuously in building, as well as on repairs. When the
Naval Defence Programme was arranged (1889), and seventy ships
of various classes had to be completed within five years, thirty-
eight ships were assigned to the dockyards. The materials for these
ships, their machinery, gun mountings, and much of their equipment
were supplied by private firms, and the real dockyard expenditure was
on labour, whidi cost about three and three-quarter millions ; over
six millions was spent with private firms on materials and machinery
for dockyard-built ships. This is a condition which holds good
generally for dockyard shipbuilding. In a few cases engines as
well as hulls have been made in the dockyards, but engine-making
was practically ended several years ago, except on work done for
instructional purposes in connection with the training of yoimg naval
engineers. Experience proved that greater certainty of delivery of
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78 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY July
machinery and moie rapid oompletion of ships oould be obtained
when engines were built by private firms. The demands of the fleet
in commission were predominant and pressing, and the lesouioes
of the steam factories frequently had to be devoted to meeting these
demands while the work on new engines stood stilL In these cir-
cumstances neither economy nor speed of production was possible,
and the programme of shipbuilding suffered in consequence to a degree
which led to the abandonment of the system and a return to depen-
dence on private engineering firms for propelling and otiier machinery.
The keen competition between these firms in excellence of design as
well as in price furnishes good guarantees for the preservation of public
interests and tiie introduction of successive improvements. On the
shipbuilding side hitherto the dockyards have maintained their rela-
tive standing and secured a large share of tiie work. In 1901-5, for
example, the shipbuilding programme showed nine battieships, seven
armoured cruisers, two protected cruisers, and two sloops in hand at
the dockyards. The total vote for wages &o. of men in the home
yards was 2,328,000!., out of which 837,000{. was assigned to new
construction, and 1,046,000!. to repairs and refits. For the current
year the corresponding figures are 2,126,0001. total wages vote, 791,0001.
being assigned to new construction and 881,0001. to repairs and refits.
In 1887 the wages expenditure for new construction was 700,0001. out
of a total wages vote of 1,311,0001., and in 1897 927,0001. out of a total
wages vote of 1,567,0001. for home yards. These figures show that in
recent years, although the sums assigned to labour on new construction
are still large, they are both absolutely as well as relatively to the total
wages vote less than they were some years ago. But it is obvious
that with the great increase in the fleet and in the cost for maintenance
it is no longer possible to devote anything like the same amounts to
new construction in the dockyards. Their resources will be absorbed
to a very great extent in dealing with repairs and refits — a class
of work for which they are exceptionally well adapted, while their
experience is unrivalled.
There is naturally a strong desire on the part of dockyard officers
and workmen to maintain their position as shipbuilders, and not to
terminate a history which is as old as the dockyards. Apart from all
controversy as to the relative costs or quality of shipbuilding work
done in the dockyards or in private shipyards, it is indisputable that
the former have done well, under many difficulties, as r^ards speed
of construction and excellence of workmanBhip. The MajesUc and
Magnifioenl, dockyard-built battleships, still hold the record for rapid
construction, and many other instances might be given of efficient
performance. On the other hand, the position must be faced that the
enormous increase in the capital value of the fleet brings with it a
proportionate increase in the annual expenditure on maintenance and
repairs. This need can best be met by the dockyards ; and it has been
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1906 MAINTENANCE OF OUB FLEET 79
demoDstiated that, ezoept in emergencies, it is not desirable to have*
repairs done on any large scale in private yards. These private
establishments, however, have shown their entire capability and effi-
oienqy in the work of warship-building, and the empire owes its naval
supremacy at the present time to the courage and enterprise of those
who founded tiie great shipbuilding, engineering, and steel-making
wc«ks which this counlay possesses. When the Naval Defence Pro-
gramme had to be faced there would have been no hope of its accom-
pUshment but for the existence of these private firms. Since that
time our resources in shipbuilding, engineering, armour-f^te making,
and gun manu&cture have all been enormously developed by Uie
enterprise of non-official persons, and in consequence of Admiralty
requirements. Now a point has been reached that necessitates a
reconsideration of the national resources as a whole and their best
utilisation. Obviously it is out of the question to embark on large
farther extensions of plant and appliances for the Royal dockyards in
order to enable both repairs and new construction to be maintained
in their old relation, seeing that private yards exist which can
efficiently carry out the lai^est shipbuilding programmes; while
tiie enterprise of the proprietors deserves recognition and reward.
This does not necessarily involve the cessation of dockyard ship-
building, but its considerable restriction. The Admiralty, with the
advice of tiie Naval Establishments Committee and any other assist-
ance it may obtain, must decide what is the proper provision to be
made annually for the maintenance and repair of the fleet ; what this
providon will require in the form of dockyard labour under peace
conditions; what margin above the wages vote and corresponding
number of workmen ought to be secured to meet emergencies ; and to
what extent new construction ought to be maintained in the dockyards
for various good and sufficient reasons. The key of the position is the
expenditure necessary for the efficient maintenance of the fleet on the
oneside; and on the other side lies the absolute necessity for having in
the Boyal dockyards a ^ standing arm^ ' of skilled and well-disciplined
artisans who may be trusted to do their duty faithfully under the
conditions of war as well as of peace, and who would form a nucleus
around which in times of emergency might be gathered any niunber
of recruits from the private trade which the circumstances might
demand.
It is.undoubted tiiat the artisans of the dockyards are a body of
men who need not fear comparison with any oi^r workmen in the
wodd for intelligenoe, education, good conduct, industry, and skill in
their various crafts. Continuity ol employment counts for much, the
standard of discipline is high ; in many respects — and especially in
connection with education — ^the Admiralty has been a model employer
for half a century. The system of establishment and pension at
assigned age-limits or in case of disablement which exists for a certain
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80 THE NINETEENTH CENTUB7 July
proportion of the men has also great influence. At the present time
in the home yards there are 6800 men on the establishment out of a
total of nearly 36,000. Those not established are classed as ' hired '
men, and are liable to discharge, but the great majority of them serve
continuously for long periods and receive gratuities when they retire.
Isolated from the great shipbuilding centres as the dockyards are, this
continuity of employment is advantageous to employers and employed.
Indeed, the conditions of free entry and discharge that prevail on the
Clyde or the Tyne and involve little hardship could not be adopted in
the dockyards. Consequently the strict demarcations of labour
between different trades whieh are enforced in private establishments
and form such a fruitful cause of dispute between trade unions, are un-
known in the dockyards, and discipline is much stricter there. When
workmen have the advantage of long-continued employment they
appreciate their position and are more amenable to control, because
their homes and associations are local and settled and disturbance
is a serious matter. There is a widespread belief, no doubt, tiiat
dockyard workmen are less industrious than their fell6w tradesmen
in private yards ; but as one who has had experience with both
classes the writer thinks otherwise, and is convinced that under
similar conditions — either day-work or piece-work — there is nothing
to choose as between the two. The dockyard employes, no doubt
in consequence of their training and continuity of employment, feel a
pride in the reputation and work of these establishments which is
most notable, and the rivalry between different yards engaged on
building sister-ships is often keen and pronounced, both as regards
cost and rate of production. All these conditions are interesting and
important, and experience in time of war shows that these local
attachments tend to keep men from leaving even when there are con-
siderable financial inducements elsewhere. This was proved half a
century ago during the Crimean War, and is equally true to-day.
The fttct is noteworthy and has a national importance, for much must
depend upon the efficient woddng of the dockyards and the good
conduct of the men in time of war.
The professional officers in charge of the shipbuilding and en-
gineering operations of the Royal dockyards are an exceedingly able
body of men whose technical training is of the highest character.
Their capability has been emphasised by the selection from their
numbers of many men who have risen to the highest positions in
private establishments of the first rank. In the dockyards they are
subjected necessarily to conditions and limitations that do not occur
in private employment, but in the circumstances they do all that is
possible and form a body of valuable public servants.
There has been a great increase in the wages vote of the dockyards
in recent years, as wiU appear from figures stated above. This repre-
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1905 MAINTENANCE OF OUB FLEET 81
sents a considerable growth in nombeis. In June 1893 there were over
22,000 employ^ of whom 5800 were established ; ten years later the
total approached 38,000, of whom more than 6000 were estabUshed ; now
the nnmber stands at about 36,000, of whom 6800 are established. Each
man borne represents an average annual wage of (roughly) 701. This
jrear there is a reduction in the wages vote for the home yards of about
200,0001., so that there will be a considerable number of men dis-
charged. The reduction is approximately 6^ per cent, on the labour
on new construction, and only If per cent, on the labour for repairs
and refits ; but it will reduce the numbers by 3000.
Reasonable retrenchment will always find favour, although it may
bear hard for a time upon men whose services are no longer required.
Reorait events in the Far East must involve a reconsideration of our
shipbuilding programme, and it would be a matter of universal satis-
faction and general relief if advantage could be taken of these special
drcnmstances to come to some mutual agreement as to the future
construction of the great naval Powers. For after all, relative force
is the primary consideration. The British Empire must at aU costs
maintain its relative supremacy, and can do so thanks to its splendid
private establishments added to its Royal dockyards. In estimating
our naval strength due regard must be paid to the actual condition of
our completed ships ; the maintenance of their efiGiciency is essential,
and any disposition to cut down the provision for maintenance
and repairs such as is displayed in the current Navy Esti-
mates is open to serious question for reasons stated above.
Improvements in dockyard administration and organisation are
desirable, and all will unite in good wishes for the success
of the present Committee. History is in this respect repeating
itself in many ways, and those who took part in the corresponding
inquiries of 1885-6 may not be so sanguine as others are in regard to
the present effort. It may be doubted from the nature of the case,
and because of essential differences between naval aifenals and great
private shipbuilding establishments, whether it will be possible to bring
the Royal dockyards even approximately ' iuto line ' with private
shipyards which are continuously subject to the test of commercial
success in the form of dividends on capital invested. The dockyards
are primarily naval arsenals, designed and equipped for the mainte-
nance and repair of the fleet, and this feature must always be para-
mount. Private shipbuilding establishments are designed and their
plant is chosen solely for economy and speed of production, and all
the great leading firms occupy yards of recent date. The dock-
yards exist for different purposes, and must have absolutely differ-
ent tests of efiiciency and methods of control. Decentralisation
is again in the air, and may assume a more definite shape than on
previous occasions when it has been advocated most strenuously by
Vou LVin— No. 841 G
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82 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY July
those who had experience both of Admiralty methodfl and the mani^-
ment of large oommeroial undertakings. However this may be, a far
more important and pressing question is the reasoned and thorough
investigation of what should be accepted as an adequate annual
provision for the maintenance of the fleet. The principles on which
that provision should be determined are clear and definite; the
responsibility for a decision thereon must rest with the Board of
Admiralty.
W. H. Whttb.
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1905
THE SECRET HISTORY OF THE
TREATY OF BERLIN
BEING A TALK WITH THE LATE LORD ROWTON^
I nr Lord BowtoQ in August and September 1898 at Wiesbaden. We
were both patients in the Augen-Elinik of Dr. Pagensteoher, the famous
ooolist. Lord Bowton was sufiEering from iritis, brought on by over«
work, but throughout his stay he was extremely agreeable to everybody
Aere, very much interested in the otiier patients, and constantly going
out of his way to be kind to them. We had many jdeasant conversations,
and of oourse a certain amount of Lord Bowton's talk turned upon his
lelations with Lord Beaconsfield. One thing that particularly struck me
about him was this, tiiat, although he had been for so many years asso*
ciated with Mr. Disraeli, he could not in the least be described as a
Disraelian. I remember that the first thing he told me about him was
that throughout his Ufe he had been a very poor man. His wife,
whom Lord Bowton did not care so much for, ha said, had a good join*
tore, but Mr. Disraeli himself, beyond his salary, was never well o£E. A
eoiious point about him was that, whereas in the early part of his life
he was very fond of jewellery, he died with hardly any. Lord Bowton
said he only left a single set of onyx studs, and a watch without a chain,
while at the time of his death he was not even possessed of an umbrella.
Obviously he had the highest opinion of his great chief, but he did not
seem to be saturated with enthusiasm about him ; in fact, he took
rather a critical attitude, though strongly believing in his genius.
I leokember asking him one day whether Mr. Disraeli was really
sincere in the strongly Protestant views which he expressed. All the
answer I got was, with a shrug of the shoulders: *My dear fellow, is any
man ever quite sincere in his religious opinions ? ' Very interesting
also was his account of the way in which he became Mr. Disraeli's
private secretary. They met at a country house where Lord Bowton,
is quite a young man, entertained the company by singing nigger
* The writer promised Lord Bowton at the time not to publish anything of tl^e
eoorerBation here reported daring his lifetime. The condition is now, nnfortunatelj,
fulfilled, and the conTersation, of which a transcript was made shortly^ after it took
place, 18 now reproduced totidem verbis.
88 o2
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84 TJSE mNMEMiB CENTVnt July
songs and dancing a breakdown. Mr. Disraeli was ddig1ited» and
the next day he went up to him and thanked him for his perform-
anoe. Mr. Corry, as he then was, said: *Ah, you think I played
the fool ! * Mr. Disraeli replied : ' No, you pleased me so much
that I want you to oome and be my impresario/ and the bargain
was there and then concluded.
This reminded me of a curious story which Lord Rowton had
previously told about the late Sir Patrick Talbot, Serjeant-at-Arms
in the House of Lords. He had been private secretary to the great
Lord Derby, when Prime Minister, and afterwards married one of
his daughters. One day, when a large party was present at Enowsley,
Lord Derby burst out at table with the remark: 'It's a curious
thing one never knows what a lot of damned fools there are in England
until one becomes Prime Minister.' Thereupon Talbot, at the other
end of the table, said : ' Yes, and one never knows what a damned fool
a Prime Minister may be until one becomes his private secretary.' Lord
Derby's reply was, ' Thank you, Pat.' I asked Lord Bowton if he did
not see that this was a parallel to his own story of the introduction
to Mr. Disraeli. No Prime Minister is a hero to his private secretary.
But my most interesting conversation with Lord Bowton took
place one day in the Kurgarten, at Wiesbaden. We were sitting
smoking under the trees, and I ventured to ask him what was likely
to happen with regard to the Life of Lord Beaconsfield. He said,
' You speak of the Life. Those who talk in that way cannot have
read, or at least they can't have studied. Lord Beaconsfield's will.
He left his papers to me, absolutely in my discretion as to publishing
them or not.' * Allowing that,' I said, *why should they not be
published now in the interests of history ? ' * With regard to that,'
came the reply, ^ there are, of course, many difficulties. I can quite
imagine if I were to publish some of the papers in my possession that,
when I hereafter met my old chief in the next world, he might say
to me, ^\ My dear fellow, surely you have very much changed since
I left the world. Was it quite discreet to publish so-and-so, and
so-and-so % " and then, what should I have to say ? ' I took the
liberty of submitting that the interests of history perhaps were para-
mount in this connection, and then as an illustration gave him a
point which we had previously been discussing. T^th regard to
the Chinese question, which was then agitating England, I said it
was very difficult for an ordinary observer quite to understand how
the difference came about between the present situation and that
which existed at the time of the Berlin Treaty, adding that obviously
Lord Beaconsfield, at the latter time, had successfully negotiated
and carried through a policy of ' bluff,' whereas now Lord Salisbury
did not seem even to attempt to * bluff.' How was it ? He inter-
posed at once : ' You say '* bluff " ; that is a wrong word. As a
matter of fact Lord Beaconsfield was absolutely serious dl through.'
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1906 SECBET HISTOBT OF THE BEBLIN TBEATY 85
I said I should very much like to hear about that. * Well, some
day/ he replied, 'when you have half an hour to spare, 1 will teU
you the whole secret history of the Berlin Congress, which will cer-
tainly interest you. Perhaps some day, when I am dead and gone,
yon may tell the story/ There is no time like the present, and sitting
under those trees in the Eurgarten we gradually drifted into a con-
versation on this very point, which, naturally, I was somewhat anxious
to hear aU about, tiord Bowton said : ' At the time when the Berlin
Congress was agreed upon I was very unwell, suffering, in fact, from
the results of twenty years of overwork. Lord Beaconsfield was
also unwell, and it became a question. whether he could attend the
Congress ; in fact, he refused to go unless I would go with him.
When he told me this, I was naturally in a difficulty. I did not
want to desert him, but I really did not feel up to the undertaking.
After talking the matter over with him, I said, '^ Well, Til tell you
what I win do. I will go and consult Sir William Gull, and follow
Ids advioe ! '' And I went. After hearing all I had to say. Sir William
remarked : ^* On the whole, I should advise you to go, but don't
do any secretarial work ; simply go as Lord Beaconsfield's general
adviser, and throw all the work on to the official people." I accepted
Ids advice, and may say in passing that I was perfectly well all through
the Congress. It seemed to act as a sort of stimulant to me, and
I was decidedly better than I had been in England. However, back
I went to Lord Beaconsfield and told him I would agree to go. " But,"
I said, " I have a plan in my mind. Don't let us go with Lord Salis-
bury and the Foreign Office crowd ; let us start a few dajrs before-
hand by ourselves. We will go to Calais first, and stay at the old
hotel where Sterne began his * Sentimental Journey.' Then," * he
continued, ' I said to Lord Beaconsfield, " we will go on to Brussels,
a pretty place, which you have never seen, and from there we will
go to Berlin quietly by ourselves, arriving, on my calculation, about
four days before the Congress begins." We carried out this programme,
and eventually arrived at our hotel in Berlin a little before ten o'clock
one ni^t. Lord Salisbury and about forty of the Foreign Office
officials came straight to Berlin together by special train.
* I gave the necessary orders about the rooms and the unpacking,
and had hardly seen to these things when a card was brought up to
me, and I was told that its owner was waitii^ to see me. It was
tiie well-known Herr von Radowitz, afterwards Ambassador.^ When
I went down to see him, he said at once, ^* I come from Prince Bismarck,
who wishes to know when he can see Lord Beaconsfield." This was
about ten o'clock. I went straight back and told Lord Beaconsfield,
who said, " TeU Prince Bismarck that I will wait upon him at once."
So it was that within a few minutes we set out for the Rad^iwill
Palace. On arriving there about 10.30, Lord Beaconsfield was shown
' Now Qerman Minister at Madrid.
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86 TEE NINETEENTH CENTUBT July
up to the Prinoe. I lit a cigarette and began to stioU about tinder
the trees. Whilst I was walking there, what was mj surprise to
hear my own name called out, ^'Hy dear Monty I" I turned in
astonishment, and beheld Count SohouvalofE, who was then, as jrou
know, the Russian Ambassador in Ix>ndon. We were old and intimate
friends in London, where we saw a great deal of each other. *' My
dear fellow," said he, *^ what in the world are you doing here ! "
I readied, *' I am waiting for Lord Beaoonsfield, who is now closeted
with Prince Bismardc.'* His face feU. Obviously he had come
upon the same errand, and Lord Beaoonsfield had forestalled him.
That was the first move, and I haye no doubt at aU that already at
that first interview Bismarck had taken the measure of his man in
Lord Beaoonsfield, and I traced from that a great deal of what sub-
sequently occurred.' Lord Bowton added something here about a
former occasion on which Bismarck had met Mr. Disraeli and had been
impressed with him, but the details of that have escaped my memory.
* Well, then, the Congress went on.'
I interpolated a perhaps somewhat foolish question. I said:
* With regard to that time in Berlin, I do not know if you can tell me
whether there is any truth in a rather curious story which I have
heard about Lord Beaoonsfield.' * What is it ? ' asked Lord Bowton.
* It was very hot weather at the time, was it not ! ' I said. ' Tes,
it was,' assented Lord Bowton. ' The story was this,' I said. ' At
the beginning of his stay there Lord Beaoonsfield engaged a double-
bedded room and ordered both beds to be prepared. Naturally
the people in the hotel got very interested, and thought the old man
had some intrigue on ; in fact, the story goes that they lay in wait
for him in the corridors and watched to see if any one visited the
room. Then they discovered the explanation of the mystery to be
that in very hot weather Lord Beaoonsfield got up in the middle of the
night and changed from one bed into the other, so as to enjoy the cool
sheets.' Lord Bowton smiled and said : ^ I am afraid there is no truth
in that ; at least, I don't remember it, and, as I had the ordering of
the rooms, I should have known if anything of the sort had occurred.'
Lord Bowton went on to describe how the Congress used to meet
and discuss matters. ^ If any important question arose it would
adjourn for a day or two, when the Ambassadors would consider the
point, another meeting would be smnmoned, and their decision would
be stated. Eventually, the thing came to this, that the English repre-
sentatives put forward four points which were described as an ulti-
matum for the acceptance of Bussia. The Bussians at once said that
these points were of so great importance that they could not possibly
decide upon them by themselves, and that they must refer them to their
Emperor ; and not only so, but they must send, not an ordinary general
or bearer of despatches, but a diplomat of higher rank, to St. Petersburg
to obtain the Emperor's opinion. Consequently the sittings of the
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1905 8ECEET HISTORY OF THE BEBLIN TBEATY 87
CoDgiess were adjourned for three or four days to allow the Riunans to
commnnicate with the Tsar.
' On tiie morning after that deobion Lord Beaconsfield came into
my room. He said : '' I have been thinking over this matter very
seriously most of the night, and I have quite made up my mind what to
do. It seems to me impossible for Russia to concede these points, and,
if they refuse, I have sketched out my plan. We will return to England
at once. My desire is, if possible, to get to London upon Sunday night
and to have a good night's rest. On Monday morning I shall go down
to Osborne — or Windsor — and after lunch I propose to lay my report
before her Majesty. A declaration of war with Russia will follow,
blindly make the necessary arrangements for our journey." I rang for
a Bradshaw,' said Lord Rowton, * and spent some time in studying it.
I found, as a matter of fact, that it would be impossible for us to carry
out Lord Beaconsfield's plan. The trains did not suit. We could
only get to London on the Sunday night if we took a special train from
Odogne. Accordingly, without any hesitation, I wrote out a telegram
to the station-master at Cologne — whom I happened to know — a
Colonel somebody — they are all old military ofiGicers in Germany —
ordering him to have a special train ready for Lord Beaconsfield and
myself at such-and-such an hour on the specn^ed day.
' Tou may be surprised to hear it, but that telegram was the turning
pcHut of the whole affair. The next day, or the day after, I was walking
along a few yards from our hotel when I met Prince Bismarck driving
in an open carriage. He stopped it and asked me where Lord Beacons-
field was. I told him that he was in the hotel, and Prince Bismarck
asked : *' Can I see him ? " '' Tes," I replied. Then he pulled
out his watch and said : '* Look here, at the present moment it is
twelve minutes to four, and I am due with my Prince at the Palace at
four o' dock. I wish to see Lord Beaconsfield, and I shall go up to him,
but I wish you to come to us at five minutes to four sharp, and announce
to we the exact time." We went along to the hotel, and I showed him
up to Lord Beaconsfield's room. Punctually at five minutes to four I
knocked at the door. When I went in the two were talking about the
horribly bad paving of the Wilhelmstrasse. I begged their pardon,
and told Prince Bismarck that it was five minutes to four. He bowed
and thanked me, and I left the room. In two minutes the door opened,
Prince Bismarck came out, got into his carriage, and drove away. He
would reach the Palace pimctually at four o'clock. I went in to Lord
Beaconsfield and apologised for having intruded. He said, *' Don't
mention it, my dear Gorry ; you no doubt had a very good reason for
what you did. But a very carious thing occurred. The moment
after you left the room Bismarck turned sharply to me. We had been
talking on indifferent subjects before, but now he said : * Lord
Beaconsfield, do these four points really represent England's ultimatum
to Russia ? ' And I said : * Yes, they do.' "
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' The Congress met again for a final decision on this matter at the
appointed time. Whilst the meeting was going on I waited outside as
usual. After a sitting of a couple of hours the door opened, and I
noticed particularly that the Russians came out first, Schouvaloff at
their head. Lord Beaconsfield, as was his custom, came out last of all,
and, when he was going away, he took my arm and said : *' My dear
Corry, I have seen what I never expected to see. Russia has given way
on all four points." We subsequently discovered, of course, that my
telegram to the station-master at Cologne had been promptly trans-
mitted to Prince Bismarck. He thereupon saw that Lord Beacons-
field was in earnest. He knew, and this we did not discover until a good
deal later, that, as a matter of fact, the Russians had received orders from
the Tsar, practically to submit to anything rather than go to war with
England. . He knew that, but we did not. Both at the first interview,
of which I told you, and after that lucky telegram of mine to Cologne,
he saw that Lord Beaconsfield was in earnest. He had taken the
measure of the man ; he told the Russians what the fact was, and the
result was that they gave in. I may tell you further that the Russian
pretext that they must consult the Tsar upon the question of those
four points was a mere blind. They did send off a messenger, one of
their highest diplomats, but we learned later on that he left the train
at Konigsberg, and did not proceed any farther.'
' As to this,' I said to Lord Rowton, ^ why in the world should it
not be published so as to show them up t ' He said : ^ My dear
fellow, what is the good ? Their answer would be at once to repudiate
the whole thing, in accordance with their traditions ; and they would
say about myself : " Here is this fellow trying to push himself forward,
to make himself prominent with regard to these matters, with which
really he had nothing to do." It would be impossible.'
Having heard all this, I returned to my original point with Lord
Rowton. I said : * Now, accepting all you have told me about Lord
Beaconsfield, was it not after all a game of '' bluff " on his part ?
Supposing we had gone to war with Russia over these points, what
earthly chance had we of success ? ' * Ah ! ' he said, * there you
make a great mistake. England would not have stood alone in that
war. As a matter of fact, all our plans were ready then for fighting
Russia, and had been thought out for the previous two years. Tou
forget that we should at that time have had the Turks as our allies,
fresh as they were from a by no means unsuccessful contest with
Russia. In addition, it is ahnost certain that Austria would also have
joined us in fighting the pretensions of Russia. That Power would
have been beaten, and she knew it. Now compare that with the
present situation. You complain of Lord Salisbury not adopting a
similar policy ; but remember that, if we went to war with Russia to-
morrow about these places in China, we should have to fight alone,
without allies. Furthermore, it would be impossible for us to prevent
Russia from taking these places. She now is beginning to recognise how
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1905 SECRET HISTORY OF THE BEBLIN TREATY 89
strong she is, and what she can do ^ ; and even if we conld prevent her,
these places are not worth going to war about. In my opinion, Lord
Sahsbury deserves the greatest credit for resisting all the pressure that
has been brought to bear upon him to go to war with Russia just now ;
and I may tell you that I never in all my life was more impressed by a
political speech than by what he said at the opening of Parliament
this year. Leaning across the table in a most grave and impressive
manner, he warned England not to attempt tasks which were beyond
herstrengdi/
I ventured then to say that I was afraid a very bad impression had
been made upon the minds of the publi6 about this China matter,
because, owing to the revelations made by the Pekin correspondent of
the Times^ it was made to appear that at every point we had been
beaten by Bussia, and that she had broken promises made to us with-
out our having resented their breach. * That is perfectly true,* said
Lord Rowton, ' but to those who have been in diplomacy it is no strange
tiling. Russian methods of diplomacy are imique, and I can give you,
curiously, now we are speaking of it, a typical instance which occurred
at that very Berlin Congress which we have been discussing. As you
know, I went to Berlin as Lord Beaconsfield's right-hand nxan, doing
really no work to speak of, but simply supporting and advising him,
and in that capacity I was the enfant gaU of the Congress. In other
words, I was allowed to play about. I could go into all the rooms
where the sub-conunittees were sitting ; in fact, I had the run of the
place. One morning I made use of that privilege to be present at the
meeting of the Military Conmdssioners of all the Powers, who had met
to settle, finally a question of the frontier between Russia and Turkey.*
* What I am going to tell you will strike you as extraordinary. But
if you donH believe me, ask Sir Lintom Sinunons, who is still alive,^
and who was then our chief military representative, or his assistant, a
very able officer, Sir John Ardagh. Ask them whether they can confirm
my story or not. At the previous sitting of these Military Conmiis-
sioners a frontier line had been agreed upon, which took a zigzag form
thus' (indicating the position on the gravel with his walking-stick) —
* At the next meeting, which I attended, we found a most curious
alteration of the map. Instead of the frontier running as indicated
above, it ran thus : [the dotted Une].
* This was said, be it observed, seven years ago.
* This is a noteworthy point. Lord Rowton inost have meant the frontier between
Turkey and Bonmania or Bulgaria.
' He died in 1903.
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90 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT July
* The effect of that was to give Busaia a oertain pass whioh the
Commiflsioiieis had previoualy agreed should lemain the property of
Turkey/ ^ Ton mean,' I asked, * that the Bnssians had altered the
map ? ' ^ Of course,' said Lord Bowton, * the Gommissioners put
that right ; and although I had nothing to do with it, that instance made
a great impression on my mind, and in fact made me very angry. I
found an opportunity, during the course of tiie same day, of putting
myself in tiie way of Count Schouvaloff . As I have already mentioned,
he and I were great friends. I had met him practically every day of
my life in London ; he was a regular type of the Bussian diplomatist,
spent all his time apparentiy in going about in society, and flirting with
aU tiie pretty women. He used to say he never felt fit for business
until he had drunk a couple of botties of *' dried " champagne. Being
very indignant about this matter, T challenged him about it, and said,
*< Look here, are you aware what your fellows have done t " I told
him how they had altered the map, and apparentiy, had they been
allowed, would have stolen a piece of Turkish territory. What
followed was very curious. He looked straight into my eyes for a
couple of seconds, patted me gentiy on the shoulder with his right
hand, and then turned and walked cdlently away.
' Such are the methods of Bussian diplomacy.'
A. N. Gumming.
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1905
A COUNTRY PARSON
OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY "^
It \b jnst thirteen years since I contributed to this Review an article
which attracted some little attention at the time, and which was an
attempt to draw a faithful picture of the manner of life of a Norfolk
Countiy Parson in the Fourteenth Century,^f the sort of man he
was, of his household and his influence, of the example he showed to
others, of the good he did and the solid benefits bestowed by him
upon his parish and his people, from the beautiful church which still
remains as his noble monument to the Fair which he established within
bis borders, and which for centuries proved a real and most valuable
boon to that part of the county of Norfolk in which he lived and died.
The unique document on which this account of the Rev. John
Gumay, Rector of Harpley during the first half of the fourteenth
century, was based, furnishes us with a complete and minute balance-
Bheet of the good man's expenditure, and some account too of his
iQcome, during the year 1306, affords us at the same time a curious
insight into certain events of local importance, and throws a curious
light upon the habits and sentiments of the country folk of Norfolk
8ti centuries ago.
' What a lucky man you are in your finds ! * said the late illustrious
Bishop of Oxford, writing to me shortly after the appearance of this
essay ; and how proud I was as I read his letter and whispered to
myBelf, * Praise from Sir Hubert * !
It is ahnost exactly six hundred years since that bailiff's account
of the Rev. John Gumay was drawn up, and times have changed since
those days.
They are always changing, and it is well they should. As the
great poet of our time puts it —
Meet is it changes should control our being
Lest we mst at ease.
* Mtmofials of a Boyal Chaplain, 1729-1763 : The Correspondence of Edmund
Pjle, D.D., Chaplain in Ordinary to George U., with Samuel Eerrich, D.D., Vicar
of Dersingham, <frc. . . . Annotated and edited by Albert Hartshome. (John Lane :
the Bodley Head, London, and New Tork.) Svo. MCMV.
91
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92 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY July
The question is, have we grown upwards as the centuries have
moved on, grown up to a higher level of thought and sentiment, and
manners and ideals ?
Does man grow slowly up to nature ? or were the former days
better than these ?
• ••••••
The picture which Macaulay drew of the manners and life of the
country parsons during that dark time when the people of England
were painfully and slowly recovering from the effects of the Great
Rebellion and the social disorganisation that followed, is now generally
acknowledged to be full of exaggeration, not to say of caricature ; but
the mischievous effect which that brilliant piece of writing has had upon
ike half-informed public is chiefly to be deplored in that whatever
measure of truth there may be in Macaxday's account of the country
clergy in the days of the later Stuarts is commonly believed to be as
true of the country parsons in the days of the first (Georges ; and that
among the latter there was little change and no improvement. The
assumption has been tacitly taken for granted that during at least the
first half of the eighteenth century the incumbents of the country
parishes were an ignorant, plebeian, down-trodden class, careless in
their ministrations, lacking in any high sense of duty, and exercising
little or no moral or spiritual influence upon their parishioners.
I have long had a strong suspicion that this view is unsupported by
facts, and could be shown to be altogether erroneous, if only the
evidence which is needed could be collected from the holes and comers
which are not easily accessible. I was therefore extremely glad to learn
that there existed just such a body of evidence as would throw quite a
new light upon this subject — evidence which had been carefully pre-
served, and a portion of which was being prepared for the press by
a diligent and competent editor ; exactly the sort of evidence which
would show us how the country parsons lived in Norfolk during the
reigns of the first two (Georges in an area of say fifty or sixty square
miles, and where people high and low were presumably neither better
nor worse than in other equal areas elsewhere.
Obviously it did not tend to lessen the interest of this body of
evidence wilii which we are invited to deal, when it turned out that
it was in large part and specially concerned with the district in which
his Gracious Majesty, during the last forty years, has become the
largest landowner, and with whose interests he has so intimately
identified himself that we in the East have of late presumed to designate
that district as ^ the King's country,' without leave asked or granted.
Mr. Hartshome has been for many years a distinguished Fellow
of the Society of Antiquaries, and has long been known as a diligent
* collector,' and the fortunate possessor, among other things, of a huge
mass of family letters, numbering several thousands, which have
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1906 A PAB80N OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY 98
been ananged by their owner in twenty-eight folio volumes^^the
eariioBt of these dating as &r back as 1633, the latest being com-
prised in two volumes of conespondence from Francis Douce, the
accomplished keeper of the MSS. in the British Museum, and dating
from 1804 to 1827.
Personally I cannot help regretting that we have here only the
letters of a single correspondent writing to his friend Dr. Kerrich.
For we are assured by Mr. Hartshome that tiiere are in his possession
actually seven other volumes of similar gossipy revelations, and
covering the whole period of K^rrich's incumbency of the Rectory of
DerringhaTn — a parish contiguous to Sandringham in Norfolk — irorxi
1729 to 1768, i,e. covering the whole reign of Qeorge the Second and
eight memorable years of the reign of Oeorge the Third.
However, this instalment — ^for we can only regard it as such —
makes a very valuable contribution to the domestic history of this
period, helping us to become intimate with good people who were
neither politicians nor social magnates, nor fools nor knaves, but
simple, homely country parsons and tmaU gentry, fairly cultured,
and passing their days for tiie most part virtuously and usefully,
decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to their household gods.
Samael Eerrich was a Norfolk man, bom at Harleston in 1696,
educated at St. Paul's School, where he became a diligent and accurate
scholar, and entered at Corpus Christi College, Cambridge — tiien usually
called Benet College — in 1714. There he had the character of a very
hard reader, being rather more addicted to tea tiian to any stronger
potations. In due course he was elected to a Fellowship in his College,
soon rose to be tutor and then a successful ' coach,' with as many
pupils as he chose to take. This continued for ten years. He was
evidently a man of winning manners and considerable intellectual gifts,
with a remarkable faculty for making friends. About 1722 he managed
to win the affection of a Cambridge beauty with a comfortable fortune
entirely at her own disposal. But the loving pair were prudent, and
resolved to delay their marriage till the bridegroom should obtain
some preferment. He was evidently making a steady income by his
pupils, and the Fellowship at Benet's College was not to be Mghtly
parted with. The engagement had lasted little more than a year
when the young lady died, leaving the whole of her fortune to her
fimcz. Eerrich kept on at his pupils, doubtiess saving money, and
two years after the death of his first love he became once more engaged
to *a famous Cambridge beauty,' whom he married in May 1729.
Of course he vacated his fellowship, but he remained still at Cambridge,
Kving in his own house and prospering. He was not without expecta-
tions ; for he seems already to have received the promise of the living
of Dersingham from his friends the Hostes of Sandringham Hall ; the
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94 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY July
inoumbe&t was a very old man, and the probability was that Eenich
would not have long to wait for the vacancy. He had not been married
more than a few months when a messenger came from Andrew Rogers,
the Rector of Saodringham, telling him that the Rev. Thomas Qill,
the incumbent of Dersingham and West Newton, was tin airtioulo mortis^
and if he hoped to succeed to the second of these livings, which was in
the gift of the Crown, it behoved him to bestir himself and lose no time.
Thomas Oill, who lay a-dying, was the son of a very staunch old
Royalist in the time of the Rebdlion who had su£Eered for loyalty in
more ways than one. Nathaniel Oill — ^the father — ^was bom in 1606,
and presented to the Rectory of Burgh by Aylsham in 1638. He
was an M.A. of Cambridge, and was possessed of a landed estate
which entitled him to assume the style of Esquire, when that word
meant that he was above the degree of j^eoman. In 1643 he was
denounced as a ddimqueifU and his living was sequestered ; but he
persisted in serving his cure with obstinate fidelity, persisted in baptiz*
ing children with the sign of the cross and marrying young people with
the ring in scornful defiance of Puritans and malignants. It seems
that his people trusted and loved him ; but this kind of thing could
not be expected to be tolerated by the dominant faction, and in 1650
he was driven out of Burgh and took up his residence at Bungay, where
he continued to live till the Restoration. He took with him the
Parish Register of Burgh, which he retained as his private property.
It has been preserved till the present day, and is a very curious volume.
The seventeenth-century Norfolk * sqmrion ' has made a number of
miscellaneous enlsnes in the book, most of them written in Latin, and
many of them giving us scraps of information about his own career,
which had a certain romance in it. On Christmas day 1660 the ejected
Rector once more ofiBiciated in Burgh Church. What a pity that we
have not even a note on the subject or the manner of that sermon !
It was this gentieman's son, Thomas OiQ, who now lay a-dying.
I assume that he was bom at Bungay during the time of his father's
banishment. In 1683 he became Rector of Elnapton and was pre-
ferred to Dersingham and West Newton in 1705. He was at this
time (1728) between seventy-five and ei^ty years of age. The poor
old gentieman was past work now, for you must please to observe that
there was no thou^t of leaving the services in his churches to take
care of themselves. It was regarded as a matter of course that they
should be duly provided for, and it seems moreover that it was de
figuefu/r that a weekly sermon should be preached in the church. So
Mr. Oill had as curate a man of some distinction and ability. Some-
how he had not succeeded in the clerical profession ; but the following
letter gives us one littie episode in his career :
SAndringham : 16ih of August, 1728.
i There has lately been a wedding in our neighbourhood, of a very uncommon
and sorprising nature ; and becaoae it msy possibly affeot your afiEaira in its
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1905 A PABSON OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTUBY 95
ecmseqiienoeB, I therefore thonghi it would be the part of a friend to acquaint you
with it at large.
Mr. Ctill has a daughter, of about fifty years of age, who has been a widow
about twenty years and has for many years past kept a boarding-house at
Yarmouth. Her name, Glarges. She has been a merry wife and a merry widow ;
she has two dau^ters women-grown. The younger of these lasses (Penelope
by name) has kept Mr. GiU*8 house ever sinoe he has been a widower, and is a
eheerfnl, ^rightly little tit. Mr. Gill has had a curate in his house about
b&Lf a year ; one Mr. Seward, whose true character I am a stranger to ; but it
is possible yon may know something of it, he being that Senior Westminster
lad that missed of a Fellowship at Trinity. Ever since he has been at Mr. Gill's
he has behaved with so much gallantry towards Penelope as to raise very
tender emotions in her breast, and their mutual fondness soon became apparent,
Dot only to their own feunily, but likewise to the whole neighbourhood, in so
much that everybody concluded it would be a match ; especially Mr. GiU seemed
to acquiesce in it.
Penelope's mother, hearing something of the matter, hastened over from
lannouth, to make her Father Gill a visit at Dersingham, and brings her eldest
daughter (Suky) along with her. And perceiving that her daughter Pene and
Sein^ were like to make a match (to which she seemed averse) she
takes away P&ne home with her to Yarmouth and leaves SuJcy to keep Mr.
Gill's house, and so become a sharer of his favours. It was natural enough
fcHT Seward (taking it for granted that his passion was honourable) to pursue
his nymph P&ne to Yarmouth. He did so. But when the widow got him
there she was so frank in her declarations to Seward, as to let him know that
•he (the widow) had conceived such an ardent passion for him that either death
or enjoyment must be the result of it. The noble Doctor took pity on the
langui^iing widow, married her before he returned to Dersingham, and has
kft poor Pene to weep and call him father.
Mr. Seward has no prefiorment but Mr. Gill's curacy (£15 per annum and
board) ... he is well acquainted with the Lord Chancellor's son. He is a
man of fine parts and learning and has gskined the esteem of the Colonel and
Mijor [Hoste] by his preaching and conversation ; and I don't know how far
his artful address may be conducive to the attainment of his ends . . .
The writer of this letter was the Bev. Andrew Rogers, Beotor of
SandringhftTn, he too a Cambridge man and M.A. of Benet College ; he
had but lately been presented to Sandringham, held it apparently for
no more than three years, and then was saoceeded by this very Francis
Sewaid, who died in 1732 and was buried in Sandringham Church,
where a ledger-stone to his memory may still be seen.
To retom to our friend Eerrioh, he lost no time in securing the two
pieces of preferment he sought for, and a fortnight after old Mr. Gill's
death he was instituted to Dersingham and West Newton, having
during those fourteen days presented himself before Sir Robert Walpole,
idio received him coorteously, and famished him with a letter to the
Lord Chancellor (King), one of whose sons greeted him cordially as an
old acquaintance at Cambridge— peradventure that very son upon
whose good offices and intercession poor Seward had built some idle
hopes and languidly reckoned without quite knowing why !
Oh ! ye young asiorants for promotion and preferment, ye may do
wone than read this volume if ye would learn the trick of climbing
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96 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY July
the slippery ladder. The game that some men seem to play by in-
stinct— as if to the manner bom — ^has its own rules and methods ; and
success is only achieved by continual practice never quite remitted.
Would ye win ? Then ye must play the game, and play it hard !
The question whether it is worth your while is another question.
That I must leave. But all this is digression.
Mr. Eerrioh being now in possession of his two pieces of prefer-
ment, found himself, nevertheless, houseless and homeless. At
neither place was there a parsonage — at any rate, none fit for the
residence of a clergyman of some fortune. The first thing he did
was to provide himself with a commodious dwelling. Accordingly,
he set to work to alter and enlarge an old house of some pretension
at Dersingham, and prepare it for the reception of the young wife
whom he had lately married. While the building and furnishing was
going on he was hovering between Dersingham and Cambridge. The
house was just ready when the young wife died. She never saw the
home that her widowed husband had provided for her. He was just
thirty-five years old. He had ' burnt his ships,' as far as any pro-
spect at the University was concerned ; and now what remained ' but
to bury himself in the country, poor man, with nothing to do, and
nobody to talk to, and no society ' ? Are you quite sure of that, my
commiserating reader % Be not rash with those lips of thine. It
so, happens that the neighbourhood in which Mr. Eerrich had made
up his mind to settie down in this year of grace 1729, and in
which he continued to discharge the duties of his sacred calling for
the next forty years or so, was a very desirable neighbourhood
indeed.
To begin with, in the contiguous parish of Sandringham there lived
at the Hall a considerable squire and his son, who kept up a good
house and were held in high esteem by all classes in the county. The
Hostes were quite above the petty meanness of trafficking in their
CSiurch preferment. They had a strong regard for Eerrich, whom
they had known intimately at Cambridge, and had learnt to respect
and admire. They were patrons of the benefice of Sandringham^ and
the rector of the parish at this time was the very Andrew Rogers,
the writer of the letter to Eerrich giving the news of old Mr. Gill's
moribund condition. Mr. Rogers was a Cambridge M.A. He had
only very recentiy been appointed to Sandringham, and was himself
death-stricken. His time was short. Mr. Rogers's immediate pre-
decessor had been Robert Cremer, M.A., a son of Sir John Cremer, of
Ingoldisthorpe, High Sheriff for the county in 1660. He himself had
sold the Ingoldisthorpe estate to the Hostes at the beginning of the
eighteenth century, and had taken holy orders.
At CaMe Ruing the rector for the past thirty years or so was a
scholar and divine of some note in his day, one EUsha Smith, M.A.,
a great writer of books, and esteemed a learned personage, whose
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1905 A PARSON OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY 97
erudite works may be occasionally found on old bookstalls here and
tiiere.
At Anmer ami Shernbume (for he held the two parishes together)
the rector was an old gentleman who had been the incmnbent for some
Uiirty years, and who lived on till 1748. I presmne that he was a
gradnate, but whether or not, he had married a daughter of John
Spelman, of Narburgh, M.P. for Castle Rising in 1660, and one of the
Norfolk magnates.
At Harpley — my old Mend the Rev. John Gumey's benefice —
there had actually been three doctors in divinity in succession, who
held tile benefice between 1706 and 1744, one of whom became a
prebendary of Bristol, and another ended as Dean of Durham.
I say nothing of Lynn during this period, partly because there is
BO much to say.
With such an entourage as this, with half a dozen resident clergy-
men of education and character and more or less culture and learning
living within a short walk of his own door, it is hardly conceivable
that a man like Eerrich could have wanted for stimulating and
sympathetic companionship. He had collected a large library, which
he had been studiously using from his boyhood. He was a great
leader of Shakespeare. I wonder which folio (for it seems it was a
folio) he was the possessor of, and which he had annotated laboriously
on many a precious page. He was so faithful a preacher that his
hdiB or representatives kept more than two hundredweight of his
wntten sermons till the beginning of the nineteenth century; he
earned on a large correspondence with his old pupils and Cambridge
fziends, which it is to be feared has all disappeared — for he wrote too
much to think of keeping copies of his letters ; he had a great taste
for art, which his son inherited and would have adopted as a pro-
ieesion if he had not been deterred from that by the advice of Hogarth ;
he loved music, and among his neighbours we hear of one young lady
at least who was a performer upon the organ ; he kept himself abreast
of the theological learning of his time, though he seems to have dis-
liked religious controversy, and there was abundance to interest him
in the sayings and doings of the great folks to whose houses he was
admitted as a well-mannered and well-informed guest. He appears
to have been on somewhat intimate terms with Sir Robert Widpole
during the last few years of that great man's retirement in his Norfolk
palace ; and when Walpole died, Eerrich felt that any hopes that he
might have had of cathedral or episcopal preferment were at an end.
Ab Bishop Gooch puts it, writing in 1746 : ' The truth is, you lost
your benefactor before you lost your friend. The first ended with
his loss of power ; the last, with the loss of life. He intended you some
dignity in the Church, when he could conveniently obtain it for you.'
Eerrich was never, it seems, consumed by a hankering after pre-
ferment. Obviously he was conscious of more than ordinary powers.
Vol. LVUl— No. 841 * H
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98 THE NINETEENTH CENTUB7 July
bat be was ratber laoidng in push. He took bi3 D.D. degree in 1765
in view of wbat migbt bappen some day. Let it be lemembeied tbat
tbe exercises and disputations of a candidate for tbis, tbe bigbest
title tbat tbe University could bestow, were at tbis time by no means
a mere form. As an undergraduate, Eerricb bad started a debating
society among some promising young men, and tbeir debates were
carried on in Latin, in view of tiie disputations wbicb were tiien
invariably carried on in tbe divinity scbools. Wben tbe time came
for Eerricb to maintain bis tbeological dissertation against all comers,
tibere appears to bave been a considerable number of apponmU to
bring forward tbeir formal objections to tbe postulant's tiiesis, and
Kerricb was put upon bis mettle, and * kept in tbe rostrum for nearly
tiiree bours/ * It was tbe longest Act,* be says, * tbat bas been known
a great wbile. ... I may send you word that I bave lost no reputa-
tion by it.*
Thd mania for building splendid bouses in Norfolk bad begun
before Dr. Eerricb took up bis residence in tbe county. Tbe example
bad been set at tbe close of tbe seventeentb century by tbat gentle-
bearted and noble-minded old non-juror, Boger Nortb, wbo de-
molisbed tbe old bouse of tbe Yelvertons and built up trom bis own
designs tbe Hall at Rougbam — a bouse mucb too large for tbe estate,
insomucb tbat bis grandson, wbo could not afford to live in it, pulled
it down. Tbb Hall at Raynbam bad been designed by Jones in
1630, but was greatly altered and enlarged by Gbarles, tbe tbiid
Viscount Townsbend, nearly a century later.
Sir Robert Walpole's palace at Hougbton was begun in 1722 and
finished in 1731. Wolterton Hall, built by Sir Robert's younger
brother Horatio, Lord Walpole, was begun in 1724 and finished
seventeen years later. Holkbam, tbe vast mansion of Lord Leicester,
was begun in 1734, and was still unfinished wben be died in 1759, and
was completed by bis widow. At all tiiese palaces much state and
profuse hospitality was going on, excepting at Rougbam ; and Eerricb
certainly bad tbe entree of them all. But tbe Townshends were not
to bis liking, though be accepted tiie hospitabty at tbeir bands wbicb
be could hardly decline. Eerricb's friend. Dr. Pyle, detested both
tbe brothers, Qeorge, the first Marquis Townsbeni^ and tiie brilliant
CJharies, whose gifts dazzled even tiiose wbo bated him. * They are
looked upon,' be says, * as a couple <A profligate creatures who will
stick at nothing to serve their own purposes of interest or revenge.*
Less than three years after this letter of Dr. Pyle*s was sent to
Dersingham, Pyle bad to tell a very ghastiy story. It is very extra-
ordinary tbat the secret which it reveals bas been kept so close for
neariy a century and a half. On tbe lOtb of May 1759 Fyk writes
to bis friend tbat Lord L. bad died of wounds received in a duel witii
G. T. Tbe ground of quarrel was tbat Lord L., by whom undoubtedly
is meant Lord Leicester of Holkbam, bad spoken, apparentiy at bis
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1906 A PABSON OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTUBY 99
own table, severely against Lord Townshend's favourite measure of
caDing out the militia ; whereupon Lord Townshend, a professional
soldier, if he was anything, sent a challenge to Lord Leicester, who
was a harmless and somewhat accomplished gentleman and Fellow
of the Boyal Society, and double the age of his ferocious antagonist.
Dr. Pyle says that that antagonist ' was (by the confession of his
fimds) drunk when he wrote to Lord L.'
I should be sorry to think that our friend Dr. Eerrich ever accepted
of any more civilities at the hands of such a noble assassin.
There is very little more to say. The rector of Dersingham lived
on his quiet life tiU ^ death came placidly and took him ' on the 8th of
March 1768, in his seventy-third year. He had survived a large
niunber of his lifelong friends. Dr. Pyle, who, professionally, was a
mudi more success&l man than the other, lived on some nine years
longer. He was so pleasant, and innocent, and right-thinking a
deigymmn — such a delightful gossip, and with such a remarkable
haolty for packing up information and conveying it with extra-
ardinaryaccuraoy to his correspondent — that it is to be hoped we may
have some more of his amufring letters offered to us from Mr. Harts-
home's great storehouse. Peradventnre we may gain from them
oUier illustrations of the ways and d(Hngs and daily life of other
ooontry parscMis in Norfolk in the eadier Gteorgian era. I, for one,
am iiot afraid to look for fhem. Let tbem c<»ne by all means, if
only
To shame the boast so often made
Tha4 we are wiser [or better] than our sires.
Augustus Jbssopp.
It 2
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100 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY July
THE SACRED TREES OF ROME
During the first age of the Republic, and in the kingly dajm before
it, theie weie numbers of holy groves in Rome, and in the latter
days of the Republic, and on into the succeeding Empire, there re-
mained, if not many groves, several individual trees which were sacred.
Many of these may have been surviving representatives of the former
sacred groves {nemora : hid) ; but probably some, at least, were tiie
result of deUberate planting, while others may have sprung up in sacred
areas from accidentally dropped seeds, which were permitted to grow,
as it were, owing to divine favour thus manifested. The Poniifioes
would have decided for or against. Thus : a fig-tree sprang up in
front of the temple of Saturn, B.C. 493, and overturned most incon-
siderately a statue of Sylvanus. Whereupon came the Vestal Virgins
and solemnly declared it to be sacred (cf . Plin. H, N. xv. 20).
Inquiry into the story of the * sacred trees * inevitably leads one
to infer that the cult of the divinities of forest and field, of g^e
and woodland, must have enjoyed full sway in the very earliest
times of Latian history— to be more precise, at that period concerning
which our information remains nebulous, where it is not absolutely
wanting ; I mean a period, of course, when stone temples were not
known—ere yet (at least for the Latin tribes) the casual tree-trunks
of the forest had been metamorphosed into a strong phalanx of ordered
columns by the craft of some hired or enslaved Tuscan. One reason
which makes toward this inference is that, as the story of Rome
develops, we find the groves were not exclusively sacred to Sylvanus
and the forest divinities ; but that, after the Greek fashion, they
might be rendered sacred to any god or goddess, whether primitive
or introduced. The timber then became used in the sacrifices, and
the worshipper wreathed himself with the sacred leaves. But, although
arehffiological memorials of those remote times have reached us
sparingly, we are made aware (through surviving literature) that the
sacred tree itself, by means of its descendants, often dung faithfully
to the consecrated spot through all the changes and chances of
advancing centuries. It even remained to some Romans of the
cosmopolitan Empire, as a message, though perhaps an unheeded one,
out from the dim past — ^an evergreen ' abstract and brief chronicle *
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1906 THE SAC BED TBEES OF ROME 101
of an ancestral cult — and its leaves (for those who had ears to hear)
still murmured the same mysterious music, * Sive Deus, sive Dea/
heard of old when the leaves sang together in the forest, by Latian
shepherd and Sabine maiden.
That tree-worship is one of the most primitive forms of worship
is a matter of ordinary knowledge. The fact may be deduced f^m
the universality of its practice. Evidence regarding it has been
forthcoming from lands as far removed from one another as Finland
is from Madagascar, Mexico from India, or Dahomey from Japan.
Before Rome was founded, we have it described in the Homeric poems.
Before Homer's age the Canaanites had their 'Aschera,' or grove-
worship, and their holy oaks = Elim, and Tophet ; and it became
imperative for the rulers of Israel to utter as a divine conmiand,
* Ye shall not plant unto yourselves a grove * (Deut. xvi. 21). The
Astarte-cult of the Phoenicians was of the same nature ; and long
before the days of Ganaanitish or Phoenician history Egypt had her
own sacred trees ahd plants, her palm, her larkspur, and her lotus.
At one period or another, therefore, tree-worship has obtained in
every country ; moreover, it is far from extinct in some. If we
reflect a moment, there are surnames yet lingering among us which
foithfully hark back to the days of grove-worship. For have we not
some of us encountered here and there a Bfr. HoUwood, or Signer
Sacroboeco, a Delia Queroia, or Delia Rovere ? Need I recall
how a sacred linden-tree in Southern Sweden, by truly curiosa
fdicUaa^ gave name to the family of one of the greatest of botanists—
Limueus ! The half-legendary dynasty of Alban kings, the Silvii,
acquired their name by a similar association, their reputed ancestor
having been called Silvius, because bom in a sacred wood, lucus sacer.
But we are not under any necessity to infer that the Alban agri-
culturists who, guided by tiieir augurs, founded Roma Quadrata,
instituted tree or grove-worship as a thing at all new to them. They
had no known actual contact in those days with Hellas, nor need we
suppose even that they required to borrow tree-worship (Uke their
architecture and ceramic art) from their Etruscan neighbours. Rather,
it would be safe to believe that tree-worship had been a prehistoric
inheritance common to aQ the Indo-Oermanic races, an inheritance
which developed and elaborated, and finally decayed, with each of
them alternately, though not coetaneotLsly.
And if we consider well, this universal prevalence of tree-worship
is not at all surprising. The tree is an organic form of force in the
natural worid. Tree-worship is a simple deduction from this especial
manifestation of it. Sharing with ourselves and the animal creation
the alternating phenomena of life, health, maturity, sickness, and
finally that of death, it is but natural the possession of some sort of
vfint should have been ascribed to trees, a spirit partaking of the
character of a conscious being. This is why we read that the Hama-
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102 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY July
dryad's life was bound up with her tree ! She cried outwhen the axe
threatened, she was hurt when the tree was wounded, she died with
tiie fallen trunk. To the tree was» therefore, assigned a spirit which
came into being with it, and would perish along with it. The Brahman,
like Shelley, feels himself linked to the meanest herb that grows, by
a common affinity. He believes, with Wordsworth, 'that every
flower enjoys the air it breathes.* Some of our finest moments thrill
with consciousness of this same spiritual centrality in all living things.
That tree-worship often consisted in the deUberate selection of some
particular tree, remarkable for size, shape, or age, is extremely
probable. To it were made offerings or propitiations, in the same
manner as certain Indian and other tribes stiU do. There followed the
institution of guardians or priests, whose duties were to mark out and
preserve the sacred or consecrated * area,' observe the growth, prevent
profanation, to determine the feast-days of the divinity, and lastly
to interpret the responses.
From this it is but a step to the veneration of an entire Orove, the
extension of the divinity to the cluster, and possibly, later on, from a
particular tree to a whole species ; and so we arrive at the definition of
a sacred tree as (1) either a tree which is individually worshipped as
the abode of the god or oracle ; (2) or a tree which grows in a sacred
area; and (3) a tree which is sacred because of its species, wherever
it is to be met with. It is obvious that the conceptions * a sacred
tree ' and * a sacred grove * blend indistinguishably. The tree often
represented the grove; the grove was the collective tree. Both
equally signified places of spiritual resort.
But although the selection of the tree or grove might largely be
influenced by appearances which inspired wonder, by the whisper of
the leaves, and by their shade, which instilled awe, it is not to be
gainsaid that these saUent features often accompanied extremely
material recommendations. Nor is it unnatural or unworthy of him
that primitive man (especially Roman primitive man) should have
found it irresistible to venerate those forms of force which ministered
to his natural appetites and necessities. He propitiated the spirit of
the woodland whence he derived his food, his shelter, and his fuel.
One may, therefore, say that the ascription by him of spiritual tutelary
qualities to trees and groves may have been determined by distinctly
utilitarian considerations. For man is practical before he is poetical.
There must be a stalk before there can be a flower. The Roman
remained municipal to the end ; the Greek alone attained to the
poetical. The Etruscan failed to be either, and frittered himself away
in degenerate mysticism and debauchery.
At any rate, it is undeniable that the environment of the site which
Romulus selected for his settlement among the low tufo hiUs beside
the Tiber was rich both in native * oak ' and 'ilex.' It somewhat re-
sembled that of Veil, and consisted of a group of narrow vales over-
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1905 THE 8ACBED TUBES OF ROME 103
sbadowed by rocky oliSs, jutting with eveigneaiL I do not go so
far aa to deolaie that the first sacred tree or grove worshipped in and
about this site was of * oak ' ; it may possibly have been a dnster
of fig-trees, bnt it is tme that most of the groves attached to the
earhest * saoraria * known to us, on the EsquiUne, Cselian^ and Capitol,
were composed of oaks, and most probably with them also may be
indoded the ' Nemus Yestee ' on the Nova Via of the Forum. The
bas-relief at Florence representing the * Mies Vestas' dearly reveals
a sacred tree, and it is * Quercus robur,' not * Ilex.*
The connection between the vestal-worship brought from Alba and
tzee-worship, or that of the Silvani, is, of course, an intimate one.
For the sacred hearth-fire was kindled by the friction of two sticks
or 'igniaria,' composed respectively of the oak and the laurel — ^a
hard and a soft wood, and the resulting predous spark was caught
in the dry leaves or tinder of sacred wood, the resulting ashes becoming
litoal food for the earth — ' ad terram alendam.' The fire, once caught,
was continually fed with logs and twigs of the same material, for which
it needed a consecrated supply. And then the fire-hut {focus pubUeus)
or temple itself, and finally the earliest statues, were ^ey not
neoessanly made of the same material t Little wonder, then, that
this peculiarly holy * fire-hut,' or primitive shrine, possessed a sanctified
'nemus,' on the boughs of which the first votive offerings to Vesta
were suspended. The original hearth is said to have been shaded
by a laurel, which was above all sacred to Mars, the paternal Divinity
of the Regia, and of Rome. All woods, it follows, which were
employed by preference in the sacred uses, became considered ^ lucky '
or ' {slices ' ; while others, especially evil-'fmited or dark-berried ones,
were considered ^unlucky' or ^infelices,' and, like ivy and black
beans, pertained to the gods below.
But we are referring more espedally to those primitive days when
the people of Septimontium adored their gods without ^ images,' that
is to say when they worshipped tutelary abstractions to whom they con«
aecrated rude altars (such as the much-discussed ^ sacraria Argeorum '
or Argean chapels), in dearings among the woodlands, just as do the
Ehonds of Orissa to-day. For we read that when these latter people
(who depend chiefly upon the produce of the cotton-tree) settle a new
viOage, tiiey first of i^ plant a cotton-tree, with solemn rites. They
then place beneath it a roughly shaped stone, which is thenceforth
supposed to enshrine the village ddty. A priest or guardian is then
tdd off to devote his attention to it.
Now, precisely what the cotton-tree is to the Ehonds, the oak or
acom-bearer was to the Latin and Sabine.
The animal upon which they depended most was the pig. Hence
the tree whose acorns fattened his hogs, and whose boughs supplied
hii hearth with fire, had a double daim upon a Roman's veneration.
We find, therefore, that the most acceptable offering to the gods
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104 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY July
among aQ animals was the pig — ^praoticaUy the * Gldckschwein.'
From this we understand what is shown by Cato's instructions to the
woodman, as to how he is to proceed before thinning the trees of a
sacred grove : ' Be thou god or goddess to whom this grove is sacred,
permit me by the expiation of this pig to restrain the overgrowth of
this grove, by cutting these trees ' (De Re RusUca). To the Bona
Dea the wife of the Pontifex Mazimus and the Vestals sacrificed a
black pig, as Qodius witnessed.
livy tells us that Romulus vowed a shrine to Jupiter Feretrius,
on the Gapitolium, after hanging upon a sacred oak which flourished
there the spoils taken from Acron, King of the Gseninenses. Now,
whether we credit the story or not, two distinct sacred groves were
long venerated on the Capitol, for Dionysius states that the temple
of * Vejovis ' (the evil counterpart of Jove) stood on the central or
(originally) depressed portion of that hill (called the * Asylum '), ' inter
duos lucos* — ^tiiat is, between two groves. A remnant of these was
still surviving there, a.d. 69, at the time of the famous assault and
burning, by the YiteUian party, of the Tabularium and Temple of
Jupiter.
It is certain, likewise, that the oak was sacred among the Etruscans,
for Pliny mentions {H. N. zvi. 87) that an oak stood in the Vatican
region which had been worshipped from time immemorial, and that
it was inscribed with bronze letters in the language of Etruria. It is
quite possible that if the ghost of Pliny, or of the Etruscan priest,
could revisit Viterbo to-day, they might be tempted to recognise
something faintly resembling their ancestral cult in the votive offer-
ings made there to ^ Madonna della Quercia,' who also has a church
in Rome. But before leaving the subject of the ilex or oak I must not
omit to refer to other extremely interesting groves of the same kind,
which surrounded the twenty-four Argean chapels. As to the nature
of the Argei, I may be absolved from inquiring here. At any rate, in
the very earliest period of Palatine Rome, these consecrated centres
were scientifically dotted about the woodlands, on the neighbouring
hills, and clearings were probably made between them. From one
sacrarium to another processional paths were naturally formed, and at
the intersection of these paths ^ arsB ' became esiablished, in honour of
the deities of crossways or Lares Compitales. We know, at least, that
when Servius Tullius girdled the four regions of the then expanded city
with the walls named after him, the two portions of the Esquiline, = the
Oppius and Cispius, each contained six of these ^ sacraria Argeorum,'
and that to each of these pertained its own ' lucus * or grove, though for
all of them there was but one festival. Varro {De Ling. Lot. v. 49), in
naming these groves, calls one of them * Fagutalis,' which shows that
it was composed of beeches — a tree sacred to Jove. Had the rest
been composed of trees other than oak, he would probably have
mentioned the fact.
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1905 THE 8ACBBD TREES OF ROME 106
The CSaelion hill is held to have owed its andent name, Querque-
tolanus, to its giove of oak (Tao. Ann. iv. 65). It may be said that one
such holy grove has survived to our day, by means of its descendants.
It is situated outside the city walls, at Santo Urbano delle Caffaielle,
near the tomb of Oeecilia Metella.
From all its noble qualities of toughness, endurance, nutritive
power, therefore, it is easy to perceive reasons why the reward for
saving the life of a Roman citizen, the Corona Civica^ was woven of
oak-kaves in preference to those of any other tree, and why the
Latin tribes should have elected to hold their federal meetings in
the likewise surviving sacred grove, bosoo-sacro, near Marino (Castro-
moanium). With regard to Aricia, Nemi, and the * Golden Bough,' or
mistletoe, or the modem survival of its uses, no reference is needed
here. The literature relating to oak-worship alone would, of course,
fin volumes.^
Before considering other sa<»red trees, however, I should repeat
that the vanishing of all these holy groves to some extent connoted
the survival of many an individual sa<»red tree in Rome of the later
Republic. That is to say, that the elaboration of town-life, the value
of ground, and the enclosing of the city by the Servian walls, may be
held to acpount for the gradual thinning down of sacred groves into
mere dusters ; and these clusters, in turn, will, for similar reasons,
have dwindled until probably individual trees alone remained to
lepreeent the original grove or ' lucus.' Finally, these individual trees
win have depended for their preservation upon priestcraft, or upon
popular veneration. Through the discovery in 1887, near the ' sette
sale * on the Esquiline, of an inscribed slab of * travertine,' we were
made aware of a praiseworthy, if vain, attempt at a revival of these
' sacred centres ' on the Oppius and Cispius. Upon it was laconicaUy
described how tiie magistrates and flamens, during the late Republic,
had re-^idosed them, and replanted them with trees. But no doubt
Rome had by then become too HeUemsed or too irreligious deeply to
care. Trees had to make way for builders and traffic, and occasion-
aUy, no doubt, vandal officialdom (as it does to-day) proved fatal to
an historic relic ; and certain people here and there in Rome probably
experienced such a sensation as we should feel if we awoke some
morning and found the pine on Monte Mario gone, or if that
beautiful solitary pahn which (like an exquisite Venus) stiU reigns
over the site of the ' gardens of Adonis ' on the Pdatine had vanished
for ever.
* Since writiiig the present pages the author has been fortunate enough to discover
in the Campagna, and deliver to the British School at Borne, a nnlqne second-century
inserq>tion niaTking the site of a hitherto nnknown saored grove. This stone, which
is oofmplete, gives us the curious formula Lucu Sanctu, instead of Lncns Sacer. It is
presumably a nominative with the * s's ' omitted. Ovid (Fastis iii. 431) tells us that
these groves were sometimes enclosed with stone walls. It thus appears that they
\ inscribed.
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106 THE NINETEENTH CENTUB7 Jnly
Fious— Fio.
It has been already su^^sted that many of the saoied trees of
which we hear, and to which dung distinctive legends, weie most
probably survivals, and represented clusters which had formerly
flourished on consecrated spots. They became both venerated
because they were old, and old because they were venerated. They
remained respected long after virtues once attributed to them had
become mere nursery stories.
The reputed oldest sacred tree in Rome of which we have any
record was, of course, the 'Ficus Ruminalis,' which, according to
the legend, had kindly detained the floating cradle wherein lay
Romulus and Remus, and which had become entangled by its roots.
Its shady foliage already gave shelter to a she-wolf, which, thence-
forward, convenientiy performed the duty of Budding the motherless
twins. Hence Ruminalis, from ' rumes,' the breast, says the etymo-
logist.
But whatever originally may have given rise to this pious and
picturesque legend, it bears on its face something which may give us
speculative pause. It is well known that the Roman honoured little
that was not conjoined to the strictly practical, and his appredations
usually depended upon material considerations. It may tiierefore
be suggested that, in view of the obvious and exceptional qualities
possessed by the fig-tree, there may have been more ,than merely
acddentin the historical assodation of the fig-tree with tiie legendary
wolf ; and that the fortuitous shelter thus accorded to the twins does
not fully enough discover for us the reasons for the peculiar veneration
of the Ruminal fig-tree. The fig from extremely remote times has
been regarded as a spedally representative fruit-tree in many lands,
particularly in lands inhabited by Indo-Qermanic races, of which the
Greek and Italian are but two first-rate offshoots. But this view of
the fig-tree hsjs not been confined to them. It was sacred in Egypt.
It is sacred in Japan. In India the ficus (Pippala) called * reUgiosa '
has for ages been regarded as embodjHing the essence of the god
Brahma. It was also the favourite of Oautama. Qeese, andentiy
sacred birds in many lands, as also in Rome, were found spedally to
thrive upon figs. Horace and Maecenas were only too well aware of
the fact. The poet speaks with gusto of the predous deUcacy of the
liver of a goose fattened upon figs. It is probable the geese of Juno
on the Capitol were fed upon the same holy diet. At any rate, so
marked is that transcendent virtue in the fig that it has actually
transferred its name to the French language as ' foie,' the liver, and
to the Italian as ^ fegato.' Other convenient properties attributed
to the fig are familiar to us through the narrative concerning Hezekiah,
and the fashionable electuaries to which our simpler ancestors had
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Tecomse. As firaifrbearing, as shade-giving, as long-Hying, as medi-
dnal, theiefoie, the fig-tree possessed universal claims to human
veneration.
If there be any virtue in this mode of reasoning, we may reckon
the Ficus Ruminalis of the Palatine to have been a survival of an
ancient sacred cluster near the primitive hut of the f oxmder. In that
esse, it may have been a patriarchal representative of an extinct group
of fig-tzees plaiUed by, or at any rate saored iOy the deified Romulus.
The necessity of rendering that Palatine settlement more and more
impregnable by means of scarp and wall gradually interfered with the
last remaining tree, and it was permitted very strangely to disappear
into the atmosphere of legend, from which it did not originally come.
This will help to account for the averred spontaneous trans-
plantation of this historic tree from the Palatine to the Comitium ;
for although quite diMimilar early legends had belonged to the fig-tree
of the Comitium, in the days of PUny and of Tadtus (Arm, ziii. 68) it
had become absolutely identified by people with the Ficus Ruminalis
of the LupercaL The latter historian, in fact, writes that it showed
its first signs of decay in the reign of Nero, 841 years after the twins
had found shelter beneath it ; while Pliny (H. N, xv. 20) writes :
In the very midst of tbe Comitium of Borne a fig-tree is oarefoUy cultivated
(at a spot sacred because a thunderbolt once fell there) for a token of the wolf
which nursed Bomnlus and Kemus, the founders of our Empire. The tree,
through the agency of Attns Navius, the augur, passed spontaneously from its
original position to the Forum. There the tree has withered away : but, thanks
to the care of the priesthood, it has been propagated.'
Here we have probably three distinct legends fused together.
At any rate, it is assured that this fig-tree of the Comitium gathered
to itself legends of its own, some of which closely connected it with
Attus Navius the augur, and the burial of the miraculous razor and
whetstone of Tarquinius Prisons. It sprang up there on a con-
secrated and, later, very crowded spot, close to where another legend
states that Romulus prepared, or intended to prepare, a sepulchre for
himself, a place which became the political centre of republican
Borne. The tree became oracular, like the oak of Dodona, and was
at <me time called * Navia,' but later ' Ruminalis ' ; and the bronze
wolf stood beneath it.
In any case, the Comitium was associated with the earliest solemn
assemblies ; and this place, and all that it afterwards contained,
formed a focus for national legend. This fig-tree was dear to the
heart of the national life, for Festus (169, 10) relates that one saying
concerning it was to the efEect that * so long as the tree should last,
so long should last the liberty of the Roman people.' It died after
the reign of Nero.
Yet another fig-tree in the Forum (as already shown) once grew
' ' In eo loco oomplores ficus enat» essent.' — Festus, 169, 10.
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108 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY July
in front of the temple of Saturn, and was found to be upsetting a
statue of the tree-spirit, * Sylvanus.' This aggression on the part of
the tree seems to have determined the authorities to consecrate it ;
on which ominous occasion the Naturalist states that the Vestal
Virgins celebrated a special rite.
Elsewhere Plinj records that a bronze group was made represent-
ing the statue of Sylvanus beneath the fig-tree.' Still another
flourished with a vine, and an olive < fortuito satu,' beside the
Curtian pool.
It would take too much space were I to enlarge upon tiie various
sextons* tales and incidents narrated hy this and that author con-
nected with these various fig-trees in the Forum ; and some of them,
especiall7 those connected with the worship of Cybele, are far from
polite.
As to the wolf, it probably stood for tiie ^ totem ' and animal sign
of the Alban tribesmen, just as the frog stood for Argos, and a snake
for Sparta. The primitive Latians were not the first who used
it so. The she-wolf had been connected with the primitive Apollo
of the Greeks, as she became connected with the primitive Mars of
the Romans. We read that LaUma came to Delos in the farm of a
she^wolf at the birth of ApoUo, That is why there was an iron wolf
kept at Ddphi, and wolf-men protected the treasures of ApoUo.
(Miiller, Doric Race, 1 179, 449.)
Mtbtlb.
Varro {De Ling. Latina, v. 154) writes that the valley called
* Murcia,' Ijdng between the Palatine and Aventine Hills, was held to
have derived its name from a myrtle-grove situated there, sacred to
Venus, to whom belonged the *Procuratio hortorum.' This, he
says, was still traceable in his day, ^ quod ibi sacellum etiam nunc
Myrte» Veneris' (cf. Festus, p. 289). Whether we accept this
etymology or not, we may remind ourselves that Venus (the reputed
ancestress of flower-and-tree-loving Augustus) was the ancient
Roman garden-goddess, at a later day absorbed into the Cyprian
Aphrodite. The myrtle was sacred to them both, and perhaps
(291 B.C.) contributed to render their ultimate amalgamation the
more easy. Their worshippers crowned themselves with myrtle
sprays. But long previous to this amalgamation of Venus and
Aphrodite, we find the myrtle ako^sacred to Quirinus, the Quirinal
Mars, whose festivals were termed * Quirinalia ' (Mommsen, i. 207).
Hence Postumius was not crowned with oak or laurel or pine after
his victory at Lake Regillus, but with myrtle. In like manner the
favourite Roman god, Hercules, was usuaQy represented crowned
' The Silvani were specially associated with the fig-tree, and by some writers are
called * faani fioarii * : i^. the * gente selvatioa ' of modern Sicily.
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with it. Dio Cassius tells ub of a temple of this war-god, Qmiinua,
which Augustus restored in B.C. 16, in front of which stood two
great myrtle-trees, which were respeotively called *' Patricia ' and
' Plebeia.* Pliny (xv. 36) adds that it was beUeved that a mysterious
sympathy subsisted and was manifested between these two trees
and the fortunes of the respective orders they represented. How
much gentler a significance became attached to the myrtle than the
oak in later timea is revealed by the fact that the ^ corona ovalis '
worn by the Emperors and generals at the ' Ovatio,' or lesser triumph
celebrated on the Alban Mount, was composed of myrtle, perhaps
typifying that the war or campaign had not been very sanguinary.
Laubel.
Speaking of the achievements of Ancus Martins, who was held to
have united the Aventine to the city, Dionysius describes that hill
as having been covered with laurels, wherefore one portion of it
gdned the name of 'Lauretum.' In his day he declares that the
hiU was covered by buildings, mostly temples, chiefest among which
was that dedicated by Servius Tullius to Diana, goddess of groves
and forests. But laurels are found associated with the Aventine at
a still earlier date, for we read that a cluster of them encircled the
grave of Tatius, the Sabine Eing.^
It is safe to assume that at least some of the especial virtues
which, in Greece, had rendered the laurel sacred to Artemis, to Apollo,
and to iEsculapius, were known to the Latin and Sabellian tribes.
Witii the Romans, who were inveterate believers in Muck' and
'ill-luck,' and worshipped Fors-Fortuna (whose dice were made of
oak), trees and plants divided themselves into two categories — the
' lucky ' or * felioes,' and the * unlucky * or ' infeUces,' out of which
latter, for instance, were made the gibbet (poti&tflum) and the cross
(crux). The laurel was of the former cat^ory. The thin rods, or
wands, presented to priests on their induction were made of laurel.
The softer half of the fire-stick was of the same, and it must have
been assumed as a particular token by the solemn confraternity of
the ' Arvales ' ; for they consumed at their holy feasts certain ' panes
laureatos,' or laurelled loaves. Again, it formed a flattering com-
parison for the repubhc, which considered itself *' evergreen ' like the
laurel (Festus, 117). A laurel crown was bestowed on all who
acquired 'proconsular' dignity. With it also were wreathed the
knights who gathered to the Festival of Castor in the Forum, in
memory of the victory at Begillus.
Perhaps with the earliest invasion of Hellenism far more elaborate
* * In eo Lanietam ab eo quod ibi sepoltos est Tatiaa rex, qui ftb LaurentibaB
mterfectuB est, yd ab Silva Laorea, qood ea ibi exoisa, est adificatus vicas.'— Varro,
D0 Ling. Lot, ▼. 146.
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110 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY July
and lovely ideas swelled the Roman liteiatnie of the laurel. It was
adopted as the symbol of healthy and as being sacied to Apollo and
his son i£sculapius. Boughs of it were suspended before the doors
of the siok-chamber ; laurel water was the fashionable antitoxin;
and the tree was, above all, a safeguard against lightoing,
Branohes of laurel were borne before the Flamens, and it was
planted before the doors of the Curi» Yeteres, and it flourished in
front of those of the Begia. When the latter was a second time
burned in 118 b.o. we read that the laurel-trees and tiie saorarium
of Mars were saved.
Julius Ceasar, possibly impatient of his baldness, says Dio Cassius,
received no honour more eagerly than that of the laurel crown. He
wore it constantly and everywhere. His reasons may have been
very different, however ; for who would despise so great a gift as a
preservative against the wrath of Jove t Augustus, after his rela-
tive's ezamfde, loved the laurel, and by unanimous consent he might
always go crowned with it. It was even decreed by the Senate that
laurels should be planted in front of his palaoe (m the Palatine, and
that oaken crowns should be suspended on them — ^mark the reasoning,
* as though he were the perpetual conqueror of his enemies and saviour
of citijEens of the Republic/ After the death of Drusus, Augustus is
said to have carried the laurel into the temple of Jupiter Feretrius,
and laid it in the lap of the statue (Dion Cass. liv. 55). A humbler
use to which tiie laurel was put was as a fumigator. Festus tells
us that tiie scddiers who followed the chariot of a victorious general
into tiie city on tiie day of triumph were censed with laurel fumes
to purge them from taint of slaughter. This laurel is the Bay-laurel
of England.
Spina Alba.
The Spina Alba, or white thorn, was considered especially a lucky
tree ; and the Fax Nuptialis, or bridal torch (' Spina auspicatissima,'
Plin. H. N. xvi. 30), was made of it, and had to be borne before the
bride by a lad whose parents must both be living (Festus, p. 245).
It was sacred to Minerva Cama, goddess of enclosures. Hedges
of it were raised to protect the fields of com. It was a cure for
wounds in children made by claws of owls.
GOBNUS.
From this let me pass to the Comus, or Comehan cherry-tree,
whose wood was valued for spear-shafts and axe-handles. Con-
nected with it we have the pretty legend of a 'Comus Sacra,'
which flourished on the Palatine near the Scal» Caci. Romulus,
it was fabled, desirous one day of proving his strength, hurled his
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javelin from the Aventme thitherward. Striking the Palatine it bo
fixed itself that none could remoye it, though many tried to do so.
Appreciating the exoellenoe of the soil, the shaft presently put forth
sprouts, and soon became a tree, which its owner surrounded with a
protectiye fence. Its boughs, we are told, likewise became oracular,
like the willow of Samos, and foretold to passers-by what should
ensue (Pint. Bom. 20). This tree was preserved with great reverence,
and lasted weU even into Imperial times. But in the reign of Caius
Oaligula (a.d. 37-41), whose operations for rendering access easier
fiCMn the Palatine down to the Circus Mazimus had interfered with
its roots, it withered down and died, reminding one of the lines of
Whether the Sensitive Plant, or that
Which within its boughs like a spirit sat,
Ere its outward form had known decay,
Now felt this change— I cannot saj.
Ancient Tarquinii has become called Oometo from a grove of
Cornelian trees. Varro mentions groves of it ; also mentions a spot
at the top of Sacra Via as Oometa ; from which the ComeUan Gens
likewise derived its name.
Lotus-Tbbb.
Among the most conspicuous trees which were both sacred and
ornamental in ancient Rome was the lotus-tree, otherwise Diospyros
LotoB. The plant may have been imported from Africa in the early
days of Roman maritime power.^ The name having been applied to
quite a number of different plants has led to no little confusion ; and
this confusion is of old standing, for Pliny himself fails to make neces-
sary distinctions between one and another. Suffice to state that
it * had no connection with other plants of the same name,' belonging
to the water-Uly genus, symbols of Isis in Egypt and of Divine
Beauty in India. It possesses a mountain-ash-Uke foliage, a brownish
blossom, and small berries like prunes, which were accounted good to
eat. Of the wood, according to Pausanias, the statues of the gods at
Megara were made.
In his Metamorphosei (ix. 346) Ovid relates how a beautiful nymph,
escaping from the attentions of Priapus, became changed into a tree
which bore her name, Lotis. It would be intereeting could we ascertain
whidi was the first example of this plant raised as a sacred one in
anctent Rome, but that in all likelihood we shall not leam. One
fact is noticeable regarding the specimens recorded by historians as
kaving flourished — namely, that they nearly all occur within an area
of a few hundred square yards. This suggests that birds may have
In the gftrden at Vioar*8 Hill, Lymington, Hants, it doM nmarkably welL
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carried^the seeds from temple to temple, though very few took root.
A lotus-tree, we are told (Pliny says * planted by Bomulus,' * ex
victoria de Decumis, sBqusBva Urbi intelligitur '), grew on the Volcanal
beside the temple of ' Concordia,' and in this protected position it so
survived as ultimately to thrust its roots into the Forum Julium
(' per stationes Municipiorum,' Plin. H. N. xvi. 86), a topographical
record of no little importance. From the same source we learn that
yet another flourished on the opposite side of the same temple of
Concordia — ^namely, toward the temple of Saturn. Pliny, however,
informs us regarding a still more remarkable specimen than these.
This grew in the atrium of the temple of Juno Lucina, on the
Gispian portion of the EsquiUne. In it several men could stand
together upright. Qossip gave this tree a greater antiquity than the
temple itself, which had been built in 374 B.C. There likewise seem
to have been beautiful examples of the same tree planted on the
Palatine, probably hard by where the casino of the Famese now
stands — ^namely, in the gardens of Lucius Crassus, the orator, the
same whom Cicero nicknamed the ^Palatine Venus.' Cicero, how-
ever, purchased the house himself in the year 62 b.o. in order to
enjoy increased splendour. One of its peculiar attractions, we read,
consisted in a peristyUum containing six great lotus-trees. These
outlived their various masters, until we hear of Csacina Largus,
Consul in a.d. 42, being the proud possessor, and showing them to his
friends. They may have perished in Nero's fire.
But the most interesting example of all was a lotus-tree whose
appearance must have seemed truly portentous, and that not merely
from its great age, which is given as five hundred years, but because
it was hung with virginal tresses of hair, and was therefore termed
* Capillata.' This tree grew in the garden-court of the Vestal Virgins,
and the tresses dark and fair upon its boughs had belonged to those
ladies themselves. I believe that the novice of to-day, on entering
an order of nuns, loses her hair ruthlessly, once and for ever. On
the other hand, the vestal, upon initiation, lost her tresses, but only
once, and for a time. The surviving statues clearly reveal that they
were permitted to grow again. Whether they were removed again
and again in accordance with any as yet unknown votive ordinance
it is not possible to determine. The severed tresses, at any rate,
were taken and attached (possibly ticketed with the owner's name
and date) as votive tokens to the lotus-tree (Plin. H. N. xvi. 86).
What was ultimately done with them who shall say ? We do not
yet know where the Vestals were buried ! Their convent has been
thoroughly explored for the first time by Commendatore G. Boni,
but the exploration has not revealed this secret.
The question arises. Why was this custom observed ? It would
be manifestly difficult to explain this, except as a survival of tree-
worship — ^that is to say, the tress had originally served as a veiy
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1906 THE SACBED TBEE8 OF BOME 113
penonal subetitate for its owner, dedioated to a tree-deity, and in
later days may have been regarded as a symbol of purification,
typifying severance from the secular world. The cropped hair of the
Flamen Dialis had to be buried under an arbor felix. It would be
iateiesting to know how this particular tree got there. It is possible
(but not probable) that the earhest ^ Nemus Vestsd ' was composed
of lotuB-tiees, of which this was a survivor and representative.
There may be reason to connect it with the medical divinities
(Pausanias, 2, 22, 5 ; and 1, 35, 3). For Diospyros Lotus is the green
ebony-tree.
llie * Nemus Yesto ' was probably much reduced in extent before
GaUguIa pushed northward the line of the Nova Via for the purpose
of overbrowing the Forum with his gigantic palace (Domus Caii).
If any shred of it survived, it must have perished in the fire of Nero,
AJ). 65. New Zealanders still offer locks of hair to sacred trees at
bads of rivers and landing-places. The Malabarese exorcise demons
from possessed folk by cutting off their hair and hanging it on a tree
as a propitiati<m to the wood-fiend. Tylor says there is ground tof
interpreting the conseorataon of a boy's hair in Slavonic countries
as a lepresentative sacrifice. After all, do we not stall have our
Christinas-trees, and decorate them with yellow tinsel still called
'angel's hair '1
In passing to another sacred plant, I will merely notice what is
apparently a coincidence connected with the lotus-tree. Dioscorides
states plainly that a decoction of its juice — but it scarcely seems to
have been tiie Diospyros of which he was speaking — ^is exceedingly
beneficial both for dyeing the hair yellow and for preventing it falling
oat. ' Bubrificat capillos, et stringit eorum radices ne cadant ' ; and
Galen confirms this finding. Whether or not it may have been de
rigueuTy for any State reason, for the Vestals to adopt a particular
odour or tint for their hair, evidence is not at hand to prove. But
yellow or golden hair was faiihionable, and probably a Hellenism,
which survived throughout the Empire until the Middle Ages, with the
Angevins (^ flavi leones ') and Venetians. Probably fair hair was a
token which helped tiie Flavian dynasty to popular favour, seeing
that, according to one tradition, Romulus and Remus were fair-
haired (^ flavffi coum '), as also was ^ the goddess Roma.' It is
interesting to find this Lotus still known in Southern Italy as ' legno
santo/
Verbena.
Lastly, I must refer to the * Sagmina,' or Verbena (Herba Sacra),
now Erba di San Giovanni, another lucky plant.
It was a tradition in ancient Rome that when Tatius, the Sabine
King* sometime the coadjutor with Romulus, Uved, the augurs waited
VoL.LVin-No. 341 I
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114 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT July
upon him at each new year at the Capitol, and for a new yearns gift
presented him with branches of holy verbena. This originated the
custom (occasionally a tiresome one, apparently) known.as * Angorinm
Salntis.' The custom came to be too obviously associated with
begging of one kind and another, and we find the Emperor Tiberius
and others adroitiy removing from town on its approaching return.
The gifts themselves an these occasions were called ' Strencd,' in honour
of a certain divine nymph Strenia, who was believed to preside over
that festival. Her' sacellum/ Varro says {Ling. Lot. v. 47), was on the
* Via Sacra.' Strense are still familiar to us under the Italian term
^ Strenne utili ' and French * ^trennes.' The word, or name (according
to Lydus), was a Sabine word signifying ' health,' and from it some
derive our adjective ^stEenuous,' and our qualitative ^strong'
— a new year's health i Well, these ' verbenn ' were grown in a
sacred enclosure on the Carin» under the custody of an offidal
called * Yerbenarius ' (Plin. H. N. zzii. 3). The leaf was considered
to resemble that of the oak {H. N. xxv. 59). It was used for
lustrations, for brushing the tables of the gods at the * Epulum
Jovis,' or banquet of Jove ; and was held specially useful for bring-
ing about friendships. It is still employed in medicine, and more
especially in wizardry and magic to hinder witches of their will.
The most impressive use of the plant, however, was the following :
When the twelve heralds, or Fetiales, were despatched to a foreign
people to demand reparation, or to make a treaty, some of these
verbense (probably three, six, or twelve) were torn up by their roots
by the Prsetor or the Consul, and given to them to take witii them
as a sign of their mission.^ Their procession would doubtless have
started from the ^ saceUum ' of the goddess (Strenia) (Festus, p. 313,
ed. MiiUer).
It is, then, no difficult matter for us to recognise that for the
Roman citizens of old these immemorial trees must have possessed
the charm of patriarchal sanctity, however hazy had become the
historical atmosphere in which they had seemed to thrive. To orators
and critics, during the decline of the Republic, the presence of these
trees in their midst may have served as pathetic reminders of the
sane and simple ideals of less corrupt times. If by chance they found
sermons in the sacred stones which glittered from famous temples and
statues around them, the* green leaves of these national trees may
have served them for wise commentaries. Among his many reforms
Augustus commanded the replanting of sacred trees and flowers.
But this measure could not prevent the disappearance of the
veterans, and to us it may seem curiously significant that while
Rome was losing her last vestige of liberty, while her inhabitants
were fatally advancing in Oriental splendour and luxury, ancient
• Livius, xzx. 43. Cf. Drayton, *A wreath of vervain heralds wear.*— ilfi*s««*
Elyzvum*
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1905 THE 8ACBED TBEEB OF BOME 116
sacred trees, one after another, withered— that the green and glossy
laurels tamed into fatal gold, even like autumn itself, around the
hrowB of epileptic tyrants ; that the * Cornelian ' of Romulus withered
when the insane CaUgula widened the way leading down from the
Palatine to the dissolute Circus Maximus; and that when Nero
flourished the fig-tree of the Comitium went near to die.
&r. Claib Baddelbtj
I 2
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116 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT July
ORGANISED LABOUR AND THE
UNEMPLOYED PROBLEM
Whateveb may be the object of the Goyemment in introducing
the Unemployed Workmen Bill, whether for the same reason
which induced the Premier to parade *01d Age Pensions' on his
election card in 1895, or from a genuine recognition that there is
an unemployed problem and a sincere desire to grapple with it, certain
it is that t^e introduction of tiie BiU marks the entrance into the
domain of practical politics of this much-debated question. The
Press no longer dismiss it with ridicule, and the pubUc are at last
realising that tiiere is not work for everyone who wants work.
It has taken some twenty years of very persistent agitation to
bring the people of this country to a recognition of this fact, and,
now that it is recoj^iised, the air is full of unemployment and its
remedy, reUef funds, schemes, Government reports, labour bureaus,
unemployed committees, &c., all no doubt doing more or less good,
but calculated to rather confuse the inexpert with the multitude
of their proposals.
The Trade Union Interest.
Of those interested in the question probably none have more
to gain or lose by the State or Municipal intervention than those
connected with tiie trade union movement. Not only is it tiie
trade unionists upon whom unemplojnnent most sorely presses,
and the extent of that pressure, even yet, is scarcely fully realised.
It is general in all parts of the United Kingdom. In populous
London and sparsely inhabited districts of Scotland and Ireland it
has led to congestion of the former and the depopulation of the
latter. It is constantly with us, varying in intensity between an
unemployed army of 200,000 during good trade to upwards of
1,000,000 in times of exceptional distress.
. It is the nightanare which haunts every working man and woman
anxious to maintain his or her position as a respectable member
of society ; it is responsible for the decadence and wreckage of more
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1905 THE UNEMPLOYED PROBLEM 117
fiyes than any other agency beyond tiie individual workman's
control
It creates a demoralising feeling of dependence which frequently
leads either to the sapping of the workman's best characteristics
or to reckless revolt. It crushes freedom and fosters tyranny, and
daily compels the workman to choose between a sacrifice of his self-
lespect and the happiness of his wife and family.
Affecting the trade unionist as it does in this way it can be readily
understood that great efforts have been made by organised labour
to meet the problem, and it is no exaggeration to say that for over
fifty years the trade union has been the only agency which has sought
to solve the problem. This effort at solution has largely shaped
the whole trade union policy so &r as working-hours are concerned,
botii as regards the taxation placed upon excessive overtime and the
desire for a shorter working day, these demands being made with
a view to so regulate employment as to prevent periods of rush and
stagnation. The great agitation of the early nineties for an eight-
hour day was an effort to obtain a shorter day not so much for the
pleasure of the extra leisure, as because of a beUef that shorter hours
meant more regular employment. And even now at trade union
and labour meetings reference to the opportunities for study, for
more time for recreation which a shorter day would bring, result
only in a modicum of applause, while an appeal by « speaker to the
best in tiie worker, a word picture of horrors of unemplo3rment,
zarely fadls to elicit the tumidtuous appreciation of a working-class
audience.
The Tradb Vnion Financial Stake.
Added to this the trade union financier, the real backbone of the
labour movement, the scientific exponent of trade unionism, the
man who desires to see his union's finance conducted upon an actuarial
basis, sees with mixed feelings what is being done by trade unionism
in its efforts to keep its members free from parochial relief, with pride
at such display of fellowship, and with regret at its necessity. With-
out the aid of private chajity, parochial assistance, or Qovemment
subsidies, the trade unions disburse to their members as unemployed
benefit yearly sums ranging from 190,768?. in the good trade year
of 1899 to 504,2142. in the bad trade year of 1903, a sum which, it
is safe to say, will be increased by 100,00W. when the figures for 1904
are to hand.
The figures * for the last decade for the hundred principal unions
for this benefit alone are given on the next page.
* Tenth Abstract of Labour StfUUUcs, Board of Trade.
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118
THE NINETEENTH CENTURY
July
Per cent, of Total
Ye»r
Unemployed Benefit
Average Oott per Member
' Expenditure
£
». d.
1894
447,248
9 8^
81-4
1895
415,588
9 \i
80-2
1896
268,887
5 5^
21-5
1897
827.782
6 2^
17-2
1898
237,469
4 7
160
1899
187,882
8 4J
14-9
1900
260,655
4 ^
180
1901
824,868
6 7i
200
1902
420,811
7 4
28-5
1908
504,214
8 10^
26-6
These yearly sums, it will be seen, oompaie {avourably witii the
total amount which it is proposed to laise under the Qovemment
Unemployed Workmen Bill.
Coming to doser detail, we find that fourteen unions in the metal,
engineering, and shipbuilding trade, with an aggregate membership
of 180,688, spent in 1894 no less thw 268,6202. on unemployed benefit,
a sum equal to 28«. 7d. per member. When it is remembered that
generally if a member is receiving benefit he is exempt from contribu-
tions, it will be seen that in 1894 the members of these fourteen unions
must have contributed something approaching 22. each to maintain
those who were out of work. One union, the Boilermakers and Iron
Shipbuilders, had at one period in that year one-fifth of its total
membership unemployed. Another union, the Amalgamated Society
of Engineers, expended on this benefit last year 126,98^2., or 12. 6«. 5(2.
per member, a sum which, notwithstanding that it is an increase of
39,7392. over 1903, is no exceptional amount, as in 1894, a period of
great depression, the amount expended reached 141,4652., or 12. Vis. 5|<2.
per member ; the total amount expended by this one society since
1851 on this benefit being no less than 3,022,6692.
It will be seen froi^ these figures that the trade unionist, apart
from his ordinary citizenship interest in this question of unemploy-
m^t, has an even greater personal interest, inasmuch as unemploy-
ment is one of the great risks of his calling, and also because during a
period extending over half a century the trade unionist has valiantly
endeavoured to meet and provide for this risk by associating with
his fellows in building up these magnificent self-help organisations
and in endeavouring to meet the difficulty without recourse to outside
aid. It is safe to say that notwithstanding the magnitude of the task,
had trade unionists been met with less opposition in their endeavour
to shorten the working day and minimise overtime, the present
unemployed crisis would never have arisen.
The Problem one Affecting the Skilled Workers.
Now that it is necessary to do something it might have been
expected that, with fifty years' experience, with the great financial
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1906 THE UNEMPLOYED PROBLEM 119
lesponaibility lestiDg upon trade unions, with the exoelient machinery
at their disposal, and with the precedent which is religiously followed
by all (Jovemments when it is proposed to deal with matters which
touch established interests, some heed would have been given to
what could be done by an extension of the principles upon which
this work is being so admirably carried on by the trade unions, instead
of which, in every particular, the proposals of the Government entirely
ignore them.^ Before proceeding with an examination of these
proposals of the (government it may be well to emphasise the fact
that the problem, as has abeady been pointed out, is not one confined
to the unskilled workers. Engineers, carpenters, textile operatives,
all skilled, semi-skilled, and unskilled workmen suffer under it. Any
solution, therefore, or even any palliative, must aim at relieving the
position as affects the skilled artisan as well as the unskilled labourer.
It might even be said that the unemployed artisan suffers more acutely
than his less skilled unemployed comrade ; the latter's tastes are
fewer, his wants more simple, and his position in society easier main-
tamed during enforced idleness than the better-paid worker. The
removal from the relatively good neighbourhood, the gradual sale of
the best pieces of furniture, the shtmning of his former associates
because of his threadbare clothes, the broken hopes of his possibly
young wife in being unable to maintain a good and well-clad appearance,
and the sight of the wearing out of his children's clothes, who in better
days were always neatly dressed, cuts to the heart of a respectable
artisan in a way which has got to be experienced to be fully realised.
Any attempt, therefore, to deal with the problem must take the
skilled workman into account. It must also be remembered that
workmen do not desire, nor is it likely they will be successful if em-
ployed at occupations other than those they usually follow. Whether
looked upon from the point of view of the economy which results
from placing men in employment at which they are specialists or from
the point of view of harmonious working, it is essential that the
engineer should be employed as an engineer and not a road-sweeper,
the compositor as a compositor and not a navvy. Apart from the fact
that it is unfair to the imskiUed worker to have the competition
increase by those in higher grades dropping down into his occupation
wh^i necessity compels, there is the greater objection that skilled
workmen object, and rightly so, to dropping out of their grade. The
solution must therefore be one which checks the labour glut in all
emjdoyment, and not simply a provision which offers employment for
which large numbers are totally tmfitted, and which, even if they were
physically able to undertake the work, would tend to lower them
from the standard of hving and emplo3rment they formerly followed.
It is in this respect probably more than any other that the Govem-
' This is borne out bj (he Qovemment action in dealing with the liquor trade,
metropolitan water oompanies, monioipalisation ol trams, &q.
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120 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY July
ment Bill will prove the greatest failure. Leaving aside for the moment
the machinery by which the Act will be administered, the Bill pro-
poses to assist workmen to find employment in tiiree ways :
1st. By the establishment of saoh machinery as will bring employers in
want of Workmen, and workmen ip need of employment, in touch witibi each
other. \
2nd. By subsidising employers who accept applicants reconunended to
them by the Unemployed Authority.'
drd. By the Unemployed Authority itself providing temporary work. As
the expenditure of moneys in this coimeotion is restricted to farm colonies, the
inference is that any temporary work provided will be at farm colonies.
The first of these proposals at once takes the form of labour
bureaus, registers, &c. ; the Bill, in fact, expressly provides for the
establishment of such agencies.
The encouragement given to the formation of these labour agencies
is no doubt in part due to the success or seeming success which has
followed their establishment on the Continent and in Arnica, and the
tendency there is in certain localities in this country to experiment
on some such means of bringing employer and workman together.
We have an account of their working in America and also* on the
Continent from a Massachusetts report lately published, which says
that ' thirteen States in America have established free employment
offices, and their reports show that they have been uniformly success-
ful.' In foreign countries, the report goes on to say, the result seems
to have been as successful as in the' United States.^
A more exhaustive report has been compiled for the British Govern-
ment by Mr. D. T. Schloas, which deals not only with methods adopted
in Continental countries to bring workmen and employers together^
but with travellers' homes and relief stations, labour colonies, ^ insur-
ance against unemployment — a novel method which has been adopted
in certain parts of Cermany, Switzerland, France and Belgium.'
The report also gives details of the relief works carried out in recent
years in Germany and France, and furnishes some account of the
assistance granted to unemployed workmen by trade unions and
other associations in Germany, Austria, and France. From this
report we learn that Germany is far ahead of any other country in
its organisation of labour registries, the system being so complete
that remote villages are kept in touch with the state of trade in all
towns and cities within a wide radius.**
' In an interview Mr. Gerald Balfour had with the trade anion representatiyes
it was stated that this provision did not mean that employers in the ordinary
sense would be able to receive subsidies for any workman they employed, the
supposition being that such subsidies will be confined to employment of the same
character as that undertaken at Hadleigh Farm Ck>lony.
* Thirly-fourth Annual Report of the Massachusetts Bureau of Statistics of
Labour.
* Beport of Board of Trade on agencies and methods for dealing with the on-
employed in foreign countries.
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1905 THE UNEMPLOYED PROBLEM 121
A Mbnaob to Tradb Unions
In many diiections, in &ct, we find this tendenoy to the establish-
ment of labour bureaus. In America, on the Oontinent, in Londcm,
under the Mansion House scheme, in many of the metropolitan and
proyincial boroughs imder the municipaUties, the first remedy resorted
to by those who aim at reUeving the unemployed pressure seems to
be the formation of a bureau. Whether these bureaus, when estab-
lished, fulfil expectations is questionable ; certainly the reports from
many of diem are more or less disappointing as &r as results are
concerned, and even where they do show an appreciable proportion
of situations obtained to applications made it is doubtful if this seem-
ing success represents any real benefit, as, had the bureau not been
in ezistenoe, the possibility is that, by personal application or the
ordinary means adopted by employers when labour is wanted, the
yacancies recorded and filled from the bureau would have been filled
without tiie bureau. The question is, does the labour bureau tend
to t^e employment of more workers, or does it simply result in one
workman being employed through his having registered himself in
place of some other workman who would hare secured the position
had there been no bureau ! If the latter view is the correct one,
as most trade unionists believe, the bureau is simply a further multi-
plication of ofiEicial machinery witiiout any real use so far as the
solution of unemployment is concerned.
The labour bureau returns further show that the applicants who
palzonise such institutions are just that class of worker who has made
little or no effort on his own behalf by joining a trade union.
OOCUPATIONS OF ApPUCAMTS FOB WOBK AT TWELVB BUREAUS IN 1904.*
ATen^ Namber of
AppUouits per Mouth
Labourers (Building Trade) 126) ^^
„ (general) 860)
Porters and meaeengers 871
Stablemen, horsemen, &c . 807
Building trades (other than labourers) .... 208
Clerks and warehousemen 160
Engineering and metal trades 150
Woodworking trades 56
Factory workers 84
Printing and bookbinding 29
Other occupations 898
2697
The question of interest to trade unionists, and to all who prefer
that such agencies should be under the control of the workmen them-
sehres, is as to how far this tendency to establish labour registries is
likely to affect the excellent work already being done by trade unions.
As shown from the above return^ the total average number per month
who registered in twelve bureaus in 1904 was 2697 men. These
men consisted of all sorts and conditions, good, bad, and indifferent.
* Tmth Abstract of Labour SUUisUci,
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122
THE NINETEENTH CENTUB7
July
The conoluflion to be drawn, theiefcne, is tiiat a general atmosphere
of ineffioienoy pervades the whole establishment. Here there are
all types of workers possessing all sorts of qualifications and dis-
qualifications, having no common understanding as to tiie remunera-
tion which should be sought and obtained before employment is
accepted. The result must necessarily be a lowering of the trade
union standard of living and an increase rather than a decrease of com-
petition. This danger wiU be further increased by the type of employer
induced to patronise these agencies. The present method by which
workmen obtain emplojnnent is by personal application, generally
aided by a recommendation from one of the workmen already in the
factory or workshop. If he is a member of a trade union he knows
exactly the rate which should be paid and the general conditions
recognised in tiie trade, and even if lacking in complete knowledge
he is quickly put into possession by his feUow trade unionists when
he starts work. The employer, we may take it, who is desirous of
recognising trade union conditions has no need of a labour bureau.
He can, without the slightest difficulty, obtain all the labour he wants
at the shortest possible notice, either skilled, semi-skilled, or unskilled.
What is true of the upright employer is equally true of the organised
workman. The trade union organisation is now so perfect, the
outlook for possible vacancies so keen, that almost before the foreman
has made up his mind about employing an extra man, applicants
are waylaying him.
What, then, is the bureau for ? Whom does it attract ? Surely
only the employer who desires cheap workmen, and only the work-
man who, because of his inferiority or some other cause, is prepared
to accept less than trade union rates.
The alternative to the labour bureau is of course the trade union
vacant book office, and the general trade union machinery by which
every workman may obtain information, help, and assistance of the
most reliable charaerter in every part of the country at the shortest
possible notice.
It is only necessary to reproduce a portion of one of the monthly
reports which are now genersd in all trade unions to explain this really
magnificent organisation.
Monthly RbpobtJ
G eignifieB good ; V G, very good ; M, moderate ; B, bad ; Y B, very bad ;
D, declining ; S, strike ; I, improving.
BrancliM
Number of Branohefl
In each Towu i
State of
Trade
Number of
Members
Number
Unemployed
Blyth .
Boston .
Bradford
Brighton
Bristol .
Bury .
1
M
80
4
1
M
87
—
8
VB
890
54
1
M
209
1
4
B
645
25
2
G
466
8
' Monthly Heport Amalgamated Society of Engineers.
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1906 THE UNEMPLOYED PROBLEM 128
Particalais as to siok, superannuation, and other details are also
given.
Here we have a report published monthly which* gives particulars
in tius trade from nearly six hundred branches in the United
Kingdom, from all our colonies, the United States, and even from
parts of France, Malta, and India. The engineer seeking employ-
ment sees at a glance the hopelessness of proceeding to Bradford,
where, out of 890 members in the branch, fifty-four are unemployed.
Added to this information there is the fact that each of the branch
secretaries suppUes any information any member may desire.
Similar information is supplied by the Carpenters and Joiners'
Sodely, the Boilermakers, Shipwrights, and by nearly every other
society oonceming every trade of any importance in the coimtry,
and a^[regating something like 5000 to 6000 branches.
This method has all the advantage of being particularised, inas-
much as each member is classed as an expert in his particular branch
of the trade. The members are men of character, loiow their value,
and, above all, are doing something to solve their own problem
withoat having recourse to the patronage of labour bureau advocates,
or incurring tiie danger of being manipulated by cheap labour
employers.
The difference between the two methods may be summed up
as follows : —
The labour bureau is a menace to the standard of living, inasmuch
as it attracts the inefficient worker and cheap labour employer. It
weakens the character of the workers because it removes from them
lespoasibiUty for organisation. It is entirely unnecessary.
The trade union method upholds the standard of living because
an members agree only to accept employment on recognised con-
diticHus.
It attracts the efficient workman and the fair employer. It
strengthens the character of the workman because it makes him
responsible for the organisation of his own trade.
Wage Subsidies and Doles.
The present Government have become so accustomed to meet
difficulties by recourse to ' doles ' — the clergy, the agriculturist, the
shipowner, and the banana importer have each had a turn — that
it is not surprising to find some such proposal in their Bill. It is
true that Mr. Gterald Balfour has explained that the proposal does
not mean that ordinary employers will be subsidised, and we may
take it that only such work as that imdertaken by the Salvation
Army at Hadleigh will receive assistance in tiiiis way. The system,
however, whether in ordinary employment or in special employ-
ment, is wholly bad ; ne dividing line can be drawn between work
which would be done under ordinary circumstances and useful
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124 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY jaiy
work which is undertaken to find workmen employment, but which
without subsidies could not be undertaken. The tendency is that
work which would have to be done sooner or later and paid for at the
ordinary rate is simply undertaken sooner, and instead of costing the
ordinary price a subsidy is received and the work obtained at a cheap
rate.
A shrewd employer or an enterprising capitalist^ American or
otherwise, who desires to be advertised will easily be able to obtain
his advertisement and probably have his work done cheaply at the
same time. Everyone admires the magnificent work undertaken
by Mr. Edward Cadbury at Boumville, Mr. Joseph Rowntree at the
model village at York, and Mr. Lever at Port Sunlight, but if, for the
trade union conditions under which the villages at Boumville, York,
and Port Sunlight were built, there is to be substituted a subsidised
form of employment which will enable philanthropy to be exercised
at cheap rates, an opinion will rapidly grow up agfdnst the modem
' rate-in-aid-of -wages system.* The argument, no doubt, will be
that only employment of the most unskilled class will be subsidised,
and in that case we may conclude that the proposal will do little to
solve or relieve the problem of unemployment. The possibilities
of its being abused are, however, none the less dangerous because
it may be confined to the cheapest labour.
The third method is by the employment authority itself providing
temporary work.
Based as it has been upon the Mansion House model it is easily
seen how this will operate. The moneys raised by rate can only be
applied to farm colony work, and as a kut resource possibly this
method of finding employment is aiming in the right direction, but
very few workmen indeed will avail themselves of such a method. It
will only be when men are in desperate plight that they wiU leave their
home, wife, and family, and go miles to work for a less sum than is
ordinarily paid for such labour in the district. Even if the * lesser
weekly sum ' proviso has only reference to a shorter woridng week
and not a smaller rate per hour, is it at all likely that men, even un-
skilled labourers working in London, will go to any farm colony to
work for the rate which prevails in that district when we remember
that fourteen, twelve, and even as low as ten shillings per week is
paid in some agricultural centres ?
When workmen demand that something should be done to solve
the unemployedproblem, they do not mean that they are going to accept
work away from their homes at * less than that which would under
ordinary circumstances be earned by an unskilled labourer for a full
week's work.' This is no solution. Even unskilled labourers will
reject the proposal with ridicule, and to offer olerioi, shopmen, car-
penters, engineers, &c., such work is to demonstrate a total want of
knowledge of the feeling behind this unemployed agitation. What
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1906 THE UNEMPLOYED PBOBLEM 126
0 dfifliied is for each specialised workman to secure employment at
that work at which he is a specialist, and this specialisation operates
from the highly skilled soientifio mechanic right down to the builder's
hbonrer and the gas stoker. Any proposal which places the workman
at labonr with which he is nnacqoainted is economically wasteful,
and wiU be accepted as a makeshift, with the accompanying demoral-
ising effects consequent upon snch work.
Ths Unemployed Pboblbm ak Hours of Laboub Problem.
The growing opinion amongst trade nniomsts is a doubt as to
whether legislation will do very much to solve the problem. Recent
consideration of the subject by the leading labour leaders of the
country points rather to administration than to legislation. They
recognise that, whether it will always be a feature of trade and industry
or not, certainly at present great fluctuations take place in the demand
for labour. During the last twenty-five years this country has seen
depressions which became most acute about the middle of each decade,
1885, 1894, and now again in 1906. Similarly in 1882, 1890, and 1899
we had periods of exceptionally good trade. The obvious necessity
to meet these fluctuations is that labour should be elastic ; it cer-
tainly is elastic, but this elasticity takes the form of the employes in
good times working at high-pressure speed for long hours and the
enforced total idleness of large numbers in bad times. Surely the
better form of elasticity would be to make the hours of labour vary
and elastic rather than that the number of men employed should vary
so largely. Many employers, to their credit, adopt this method,
and while it may be true that in many trades such a regulation of
working hours would not be possible, it is equally true that in many
trades such a r^;ulation is possible with beneficial results to all con-
cerned. The history of emplojrment under the direct supervision
of Uie Government has, however, during these last five years, been
a record of gross aggravation of the difficulties of emplojnnent. In
190Q-1 frantic efforts were made in every arsenal and Government
hcUjiry in the country to obtain men. An artificial demand was
set up as a result of the war. Thousands of men were engaged, only
to be mthkssly discharged in 1908-4.® At Woolwich Arsenal, Enfield
Small Anns Factory, and all the dockyards, the cry has, during the
last two years, been ' Reduce and economise.' The stupidity of the
extravagant expenditure and reckless production of the two former
years has had to be met by an equal stupidity of miserly cheeseparing
in the two latter.
The fedlities for production must necessarily be such thatnmdden
* In reply to a qoestion pat by Mr. John Boms, M J^., in the House of Commons
it was aothoritatiTely stated that over ten thousand men had been discharged from
Qo^ernment dockyards and arsenals during the last two years for caases other than
miseondiiot.
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126 THE NINETEENTH CENTUB7 July
demands for laboui can be met, but up to now the only elastic part
of the system has been human labour, and the limits of that elasticity
have been, on the one hand, continuous work frequently aided by
vicious stimulants until exhausted nature has called a halt, and, on
the other, the total absence of emplojrment, with all its accompanying
horrors of ill-fed children and demoralised parents.
Trade unionists neither believe in excessive work nor its total
absence ; both are degrading, both vicious ; they believe a healthy
mean can be obtained and maintained if the employers display a
businesslike aptitude in carrying on their business. Up to now, all
mistakes and all mismanagement have been met by resort to labour's
elasticity. If war is declared without the country being prepared,
labour is called upon to work all hours. If expenditure has been
exceeded, labour is discharged in thousands.
What is true of Governmental captains of industry is true of most
public bodies and private firms. Ability to regulate in this manner
should be part of every industrial captain's equipment.
It is readily admitted that, notwithstanding such regulation,
fluctuations will take place. To meet these fluctuations nothing
seems more sane than that, on the first sign of depression, works of
public utility should be proceeded with. The Government and all
public bodies have always an enormous amount of work waiting to
be done. Harbour works. Government buildings, and repairs of all
kinds should be proceeded with when times are bad, and as good
times return there could be a slackening oft of such work. One of
the most prolific causes of unemployment is the practice followed by
all contractors, public and private, of refraining from putting work in
hand during the winter months. In every business, indoor or outdoor,
there is a slackening oS in winter. Bad light and weather both add
largely to cost of production. But what can workmen do 1 They
do not receive sufficient during summer to tide them over winter, and
it would surely be cheaper and better for public authorities to spend
money for extra labour cost in winter than spend large sums on extra
Poor Law costs, or even on farm colony work.
Notwithstanding regulation, notwitiistanding an intelligent antici-
pation of bad times and the pushing forward of public works, it is
conceivable that still there would be those wanting work who could
not obtain it. To supply this need the (rovemment Bill might be
useful, but without the better regulation of present employment,
which would aim at making the hours of labour, and not the number
employed, the elastic part of our productive system, the Govern-
ment Unemployed Worlanen Bill will be as disappointing in its results
as its machinery is likely to prove dangerous in its operation.
Isaac H. Mitchell.
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1906
THE FOUNDATION OF THE
CHURCH OF ENGLAND IN AUSTRALIA
Thb foundation in Australia of a great institation like the Chnrch of
England should be of considerable interest to all who are concerned
with the development of the Empire. Its parishes form a vast net-
work, covering the whole of the Southern Continent. Its member-
ship includes, if not the ma]orit7 of Australian citizens, at any rate a
very large proportion of those citizens. At the 1901 Census no fewer
thui 1,497,620 persons were returned as members of the Church of
Eng^d, or about 40} per cent, of the whole population, and this
pn^rtion, according to Mr. Coghlan's statistics, hsid grown almost
1} per cent, during the ten preceding jrears. Remembering these
facts, and remembering also tiie intimate relationship which eidsts
between religion and national Efe, it is natural that thoughtful men
dionld desire to learn something of the beginnings of the Anghcan
Church, and so be enabled to form an estimate of the part it is taking
in the development of Austraha. It was, therefore, undoubtedly a
happy idea which prompted a well-known Sydney clergyman two
years ago to hold, in the open space in front of the Sydney Custom
House, a commemoration of the first Church of England service in
Australia. A year later the place of the anniversary service was
changed from C&rcular Quay to a little triangular reserve in Macquarie
Place, it having been thought that it was near there, a hundred and
sixteen years earlier, ' the banner of the King of Kings was unfurled.'
Mr. Louis Becke has said, not unfairly, that the true founder of
Australia was Admiral Phillip, and that he and the officers of the
First Fleet ought to be remembered with something of the same admira-
tion felt for the sturdy Puritan adventurers who f oimded the American
ook)ny. The despatch of the First Fleet was due to the enthusiastic
representations of Captain Cook. In this large sunny land of the
South the gref t explorer saw infinite possibilities of colonisation and
expansion. At the first it was hoped to compensate by grants of land
th se loyalist farmers in America who at the conclusion of the War
of Independence suffered for their loyalty. The history of Austraha
would indeed have been different if this scheme had been carried into
effect. But DIr. Pitt had to deal at the time with another difficulty —
127
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128 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY July
namely, that of disposing of the criminal population which previous
to the war had been sent to the Virginian plantations. It is un-
necessary now to discuss the rights and wrongs of transportation.
We have the sad evidence of experience to guide us in our judgment,
but it must not be forgotten that the verdict of public opinion at
the time was favourable, not altogether from selfish reasons. It was
honestly believed that the imhappy convicts would be reformed by
industry in a new land far from the surrotmdings of their crime.
The convicts themselves believed the same thing, and, putting aside
for a moment the squalid tyranny of which novelists have made so
much, it must be allowed that this beUef , to some extent, was justified
by results.
The ecclesiastical history of AustraUa also may be fairly said to
have commenced with the arrival of the First Fleet. It was once ably
maintained by Mr. Slater, the editor of the Charters Towers Evening
Telegraphy that the first Christian service was held by the Spaniards
in 1606 on the spot now occupied by the Queensland town of Glad-
stone. This contention has been abandoned, however, owing to the
unanimous verdict of scholars against De Quiros ever having reached
Australia. The land which, with the characteristic pie^ of his
countrymen, he called Tierra Australis del Espiritu Santo, is now
known to be one of the New Hebrides, a thousand miles from Queens-
land shores. The first Christian service, therefore, of which there is
any record was held by the Church of England chaplain who accom-
panied the First Fleet in 1787. The presence of a chaplain is said to
have been an afterthought on the part of the authorities. This is not
surprising. No chaplain had ever accompanied the smaller bands of
convicts to the American plantations, and there was no official reason
why one should be sent with the large company of a thousand souls on
the point of sailing for Australia. That one was appointed at the
eleventh hour was largely due to the representations of Mr. William
Wilberforce, without whose aid it would have been difficult for the
authorities to have found a capable clergyman willing to expatriate
himself. It is not easy now to find a capable clergyman earnest
enough to leave England to work in Australia. It must have been
infinitely more difficult to find one in 1787 ; but in the end the Rev.
Richard Johnson, of Magdalene College, Cambridge, presented himself,
and was duly appointed by the King.
Mr. Johnson was a biend of Mr. Simeon, a member of the Eclectic
Society, and was, therefore, presumably, an extreme Low Churchman.
One of his bitterest opponents, Major Grose, dubbed him a ^ Method-
ist * ; but it must not be forgotten that in those days Methodism
was largely a spiritual movement among earnest-minded men in full
communion with the Church of England. The writer's great-grand-
father was known as a * Methodist,' although he never absented him-
self from his parish church on any Sunday in the year. So the Rev.
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1906 THE CHUBCH OF ENGLAND IN AU8TBALIA 129
Biohard Johnson remained faithful to the CShorch of his fathers tintil
the day of his death. After leaving New South Wales he became the
rector of a London City parish, and his monument, rendered almost
illegible by Ixmdon smoke, records that for seventeen years there ' he
faithfully preadied Christ and Him crucified/ He must, indeed,
have had a very real faith in Ood, a very real sense of duty, and a
very brave heart to have accepted the post of Chaplain of the First
Fleet. He certainly did not accept it for the sake of pay. His stipend
was 1822. per annum, and was often insufficient to provide his food.
That he knew hardships were before him cannot be doubted, for his
friend, John Newton, warned him : ^ If Jesus should honour you with
the crown of martTrdom it will not be strange.' It is the custom of
many to speak slightingly of the First Fleet Chaplain, and to compare
him unfavourably with his redoubtable successor, Samuel Marsden.
The fact remains that a sensitive, cultured, not over-strong man,
inq^red by most unselfish motives, left England to accompany an
expedition of convicts to an unknown country. Although he lacked
self -assertion, and grew despondent under difficulties, he stayed at his
post for thirteen long years. He was devoted to his work, and to the
interests of his unhappy and disappointing parishioners, gaining their
respect to aremadable degree. There was a story told in the Beviews
at the end of the eighteentii century which is worth repeating. Some
unhappy convicts who had escaped from Port Jackson in an open
boat were questioned as to what kind of a chaplain they had at the
colony. They replied with something like awe in their voices that
tiiey * did not believe that there was so good a man beside in the
world.'
The Krst Fleet landed in Sydney Cove at sundown on Saturday, the
20th of January 1788. The official and formal inauguration of the
Government did not take place tmtil the 7th of February, but on the
night of landing a space was cleared in the bush near Sydney Cove,
the Union flag was hoisted, the warships fired three royal salutes, and
King George's health was pledged in the usual fashion. It has been
noticed with regret that neither on the day of landing, nor yet on
inauguration day, was the name of Almighty Qod invoked. It is
useless seeking for the reason of this omission, but the second day was
Sunday, and Captain Tench, of the Marines, wrote : ' On the first
Sunday after our landing Divine service was performed under a great
tree by the Rev. Mr. Johnson, Chaplain of the Settiement, in the
[oesenoe of the troops and convicts, whose behaviour on the occasion
was equally regular and attentive.' This is the first record of a
Ohriiitian service in Austraha, and it is stirring to remember that it
would be performed in the sublime words of our English Liturgy.
It could be wished that the record had been fuller, for that service
was tbe setting of a small stock which was to grow and expand into a
gseat trae, throwing wide its branches and yielding fruit on every side.
Vol. LVm— Ko. 841 K
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180 THE NINETEENTH CENTVBY Jnly
The Chtuoh of England, theiefoie, was planted in Australia in
1788 under that large tree by Sydney Gove. For some years the
same tree was the only church in Australia. On sunny days its foliage
afforded ample protection from the heat, but that protection was
insufficient during the high winds and rain of winter. Then the
congregation was taken to a disused, evil-smelling boat-house on the
strand — a building described at the time as not being fit for a stable
or cow-house. The officers of a Spanish man-of-war paying a visit to
the Colony in the month of January 1793 were horrified at the care-
lessness of the authorities about the place of Divine service. One of
them said, truly enough, that if the place had been settled by his
countrymen a house of Qod would have been built before any house
of man. The chaplain had frequently pleaded with the Gk>veznor for the
erection of a church, but had always been met with the same excuse
of * scarcity of labour.' A building intended for a church was erected
in 1792, but never used for that purpose. Civil needs were more
urgently pressed, and the building became first a lock-up and then a
granary. At last, in desperation, the chaplain set to work himself to
build at his own cost a ^ wattle and daub ' edifice which was the first
church in Australia. Five years later that rude church was burnt
to the ground, probably by some evil-disposed convicts who thought
that they would thus escape from church parade. For it must not be
forgotten that the poUcy of the Government was to make church
attendance a Sunday roU-call. The Port Jackson convicts were
never, as in Norfolk Island, marched in chains to public worship,
but they were fined two pounds of flour for non-attendance, while it
was said that the civil and military authorities never dreamed of
voluntarily attending reUgious ministrations. This disinclination to
go to church may probably have proceeded quite as much from the
notorious intemperance and the lax morality of those early days as
from indifference to religion. Studied hypocrisy was not tiie vice of
the period. But, whatever may have been the cause, things seem to
have gone from bad to worse, for in 1825 the Sydney congregations
had dwindled down to handfuls. Sir Thomas Darling then made an
attempt to remedy the abuse by announcing his intention to go regu-
larly to church, and his desire that his subordinates and the public
should follow his example. It must not be thought, however, that
the services under the gum-tree, in the boat-house, and later in the
* wattle and daub ' church were lost labour. The dynamic power of
prayer and praLse can never be satisfactorily computed ; but patient
devotion to duty had its effect, even though the lE^t Fleet Chaplain
saw no more than the foundation laid of the church he loved so welL
It is, moreover, a mistake to attempt to measure the strength and
influence of the Church simply by church attendance. For instance,
the Church of England has always taken the lead in education, and,
true to that tradition, the Rev. Richard Johnson was the father of
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1906 THE OHUBCH OF ENGLAND IN AU8TBALIA 181
education in Australia. The fint Australian day school was held in
his * wattle and daub ' chuich. The first Australian school teachers
were appointed and paid by that noble organisation of the Church —
the Society for the Propagation of the Qospel. The first orphanage in
Australia was built largely through the instrumentahty of the chap-
lain. We know now that he was a fearless and constant preacher
against drunkenness, that he was a friend of the unhappy Aborigines,
mi a protector of the yet more unhappy women convicts who at the
first were thrust into the wilderness without -common provision for
decency, let alone moraUty. Although it was reserved for his suc-
cessor to effect more reforms, Richard Johnson must be regarded not
only as the first, but as a worthy representative of the Church of
England in Australia.
It would be absurd to speak as though the national development
of Australia can be identified with any religious body. It would be
equally absurd to deny the important part that religion takes in the
development of any people. There is a power, often unrecognised,
which is TnnlriTig for the true prosperity of every Christian nation, and
tiiat power is righteousness. To promote righteousness, and to pro-
mote it in the fear of Gk)d, is the true ideal of the Church of England.
If the church in Australia has not always taken a prominent part in
national affairs, may it not be urged that it is a better thing to inspire
individual citizens with high ideals than to become a political organi-
sation, even for righteous ends 1 There have been, for instance, in
Australia, as in England, many laymen prominent in State affairs,
and characteristically reticent in matters concerning their personal
leUgion, who have yet gained their high sense of duty to their country
from the Church Catechism, which has probably done more in this
respect for the English-speaking people than any book written during
the last three hundred years. An inspired Hebrew prophet, with his
ea^e glance into the future, cried as the spokesman of Jehovah, * I
have set watchmen upon thy waUs, 0 Jerusalem, they shall never
hold tiieir peace daynor night.' And then, speaking as a man to men :
^ Te that are the Lord's remembrancers, take ye no rest, give Him no
rest, tiU He stabUsh, till He make Jerusalem a praise on earth.' QoA
has indeed set His watchmen in Australia. It is no longer now the
soHtary chaplain's voice crying in the wilderness. The Lord's remem-
brancers have been multiplied exceedingly, but how much more
exceedingly would they be multiplied if all tiie brethren of the Church
would accept the urgent call to themselves to take no rest in pro-
moting righteousness — ^to give Qod no rest in their prayers and inter-
cessions ? Then, indeed, the Australian Commonwealth would become
firmly established, and the * Household of Faith ' remain a praise
upon earth.
Gborgb H. Nobth Queensland.
X 2
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182 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY July
HEATHEN RITES AND SUPERSTITIONS
IN CEYLON
SuPBBsrrnoN dies hard in the East. Perhaps in Ceylon it is more
pronounoed in contrast to the more benign teachings of Buddha and
the still more enUghtened gospel of Christianity. Time was, of course,
in this beautiful island when religion was made up exdusively of
magical rites and ceremonies — ^that is, so far as the masses are con-
cerned. Few even now comprehend the esoteric philosophy contained
in the Vedas and other sacred writings of the Hindus. When mis-
sionaries came with the new truth from India, following in the wake
of Siddhartha, endeavours were made to clear away all traces of
heathen mythology with its pantheon of gods and goddesses— more
evil than good, and demons mightier still, such as the Hindu religion
meant to the majority of the Sinhalese. But the apostles of Buddhism
found such wholesale reformation and iconoclasm impractical, and
¥Fere compelled to effect a compromise by permitting and even sanc-
tioning some of these rites and beliefs as inevitable. During a sojourn
of seven years in Ceylon I made myself acquainted by study and
personal observation with certain ceremonies possibly unlmown to, at
any rate unwitnessed by, any other European, for the native is
reticent and averse to what he considers sanctity — ^the sanctity bom
of ages of belief— being violated by * the breath of the infildeL' More-
over, for a European, a ChrUiian^ to ingratiate oneself in so far as to
be present at some of these rites, demands tact, possessed only by
those who to an inquiring add a sympathetic mind, besides an amotrnt
of energy and endurance not always at the call of the European in
a torrid dime. Once having attended a yakun natanawa such as
that already described,^ my interest was captured. From an artist's
point of view it was worth it alone. The fantastic costumes, the
weird music, the gorgeous blossoms i^id drapings, the medley of the
grotesque and the beautiful, the barbaric and the picturesque, as seen
beneath the softening, idealising light of a tropical moon, is a picture.
But there is another aspect — the raison d^itre ; for there is always
a purpose in these ceremonies — an object to be gained, a motive to
* ^MMta^fc Cm^ury, Noyember 1899.
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1906 HEATHEN BITES IN CEYLON 188
be aehieved. This purpoBe, to the Sinhalese, is a eerious, a ver7
serious one, although from our Ghzistian standpoint it idmj be any-
thing but moral, praiseworthy, or legitimate. And never will these
barbaric rites be relegated to the Umbo of ancient superstition until
the root of tiieir being — ^in other words, the idea — is abandoned in
fayour of a higher, sounder, and nobler conception of right and truth.
Nature to the primitive man, and even now to the majority in
liie East, teems with beings invisible that must be propitiated. Trees
are the haunts of them as well as sohana (graveyards), certain spots
m the jungle, particular weDs, &c. These yakseyo (evil demons)
are ever on the look-out to find some accessible mortal through whom
to gratify theii vicious desires. Certain hours, termed yama, are to
Aese evil demons more auspicious for such purposes, as well as cer-
tain conditions of body and mind of the mortal-victim» who, when
once ^possessedy' is known henceforth as a taincamOf or 'solitary
one,' and subjected to a course of magical treatment manifested in
these rites, with a view to his or her release from the demon obsession.
In some stubborn cases — ^providing there be rupees sufficient
forthcoming— the patient, after being the subject of two, three, or
&mr devil dances (so called) with no beneficial result, is taken to
a certain temple some few miles from the mountain capital to undergo
drastic treatment. This I will later on describe.
Now I will give an example of the native belief in yama (demon's
hour), which may serve as a hint and possibly as an explanation to
otiier Anglo-Ceylonese domiciled in our first Grown Colony.
With the intention of taking a trip to England, we had broken
np oui home in Colombo, and temporarily taken a small bungalow
it Mount Lavinia, making one servant — a Tamil from Southern
India — serve the double purpose of cooh-appoo — a common practice
there. Now, being in absolute ignorance of yamoy it happened that
I frequentiy sent Miguel on some errand during these evil-hatmted
hours. His reluctance was ill-concealed, but this I attributed to
Oriental laziness, and proved my authority by insisting. The first
time he returned late and the worse for drink ; the second later and
stin worse for drink ; the third later still, and, alas 1 too drunk to
oook the dinner. When reprimanded next day, this was his apology
and excuse: 'Lady send Miguel out ytwia time. Bad demon get
bold, make drunk. I no help this ; lady make go. Lady not know
this; yama very bad time out go.' Forthwith I niade myself
acquainted with yama, and henceforth avoided sending him at such
times. Nevertheless, Miguel was late on occasions, and his environ-
ment suggestive of arrack.
The following interesting illustration of the superstitions, beUefis,
and * demon worship ' by propitiation prevalent to this day in Ceylon
actually occurred some five years ago, though it can scarcely be
credited. A Sinhalese girl, living in a village not far from Colombo,
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184 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY July
sat pounding paddy one day under the shade of a yakberuja tree, for
the sun was fearfully hot. Previously she, by way of precaution, had
taken a bath and anointed her looks and person with cocoanut oil,
for this tree is the haunt of a very evil class of demon. This, how-
ever, was the only shade at hand. After awhile a maUa yakseya
espied her. He did not come down from the tree himself, but sent
his dutrtay^ in the form of a tic-pohnga. Immediately a cold chill
sdzed and shook her, a ghastly hue overspread her countenance, her
hand ceased pounding, her arm grew stiff, her whole body cataleptic,
her eyes glazed and fixed. She was * possessed ' — a taincama.
From this time she, who had been renowned for her virtues, as
well as graces, developed habits and characteristics of a most objec-
tionable nature— dissolute, fiendish. A priest of Buddhism was in-
formed. Bana (the Seven-fold Path of Virtue) was read over the
girl, then j)erU rites were held on her behalf, she being consigned to
PaUini^ as a vestal in attendance on that (Goddess of Chastity. Never-
theless, the girl continued in her evil ways. An astrologer was next
resorted to, who, by grahaism or judicial astrology ascertaining the
real cause, advised the holding of a yahm naUmawa (devil dance)
on a costiy and extraordinary scale. This even had no more result
than prostration of both patient and haUadiya (devil charmer). The
whole village was distressed. Nothing was there for it but to take
her to the temple Qcia-caf-'pfj^dewdle. This temple is at Alutunevera,
near Eandy, and is presided over by Wahala Dewujo, one of the most
evil, likewise the most powerful, of evil demons.
Now, as we were about to attend the Perehera or grand national
festival of the Sinhalese in celebration of the Sacred Tooth at Eandy,
this girPs case lent additional interest to me. This temple, Qaia-
cap-pu-deiwale, is old as the hills, Hindu erstwhile, prior to the advent
of Buddha. Images of solid gold, silver, and bronze, beautifully
wrought and studded with gems, adorn the altars, but their beauty
is lost sight of amid the dust and grime of centuries and the myriads
of insects in possession, that have their nests in the joints of the
hideous images of the presiding evil demons.
Qreat preparations had been made for the reception and treat-
ment of this poor girl — ^the taincama — ^not in the way of deansing,
though, that would be deemed sacrilegious. Accompanied by rela-
tives, she came on foot, a distance of some nine mUes, the former
bearing offerings to the big demon Wahala. When within about
two miles violent demoniac obsession seized her. Suddenly she had
halted, staring wildly and defiantly before her. Such an acquisition
of physical strength then possessed her, a slender young girl, that
two strong men failed to move her. For a while thus she remained,
obdurate, immovable as a block of stone. Then, drawing a long,
deep breath, and smiling a fiendish smile, she gathered herself together,
* Simalaorum by force of will-projeotion.
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1906 HEATHEN BITES IN CEYLON 186
seeminglj with a firm lesolve, and went on. Should anyone attempt
to deter her now it seemed likely the * demon ' in her would tear
him to pieces. I never saw suoh determination on a naturally
weak woman*8 face. Ksr gait was even, firm, and resolute. The
attendants and relatives exchanged looks and fell back. No one
spoke. Th^ judged the ^ demon's ' purpose ; he wanted to get her
to the temple — ^the demon's stronghold. But he reckoned without
feofon, the weak point in demoniac wisdom, it seems.
The interior of this temple is divided into three circular chambers,
the centre being the sanoUm sanctorum of the demon Wahala. Pre-
ceded by her relatives and attendants, who laid their offerings on
the altars, then knelt in subjection and supplication before the hideous
idols of evil, the taincama then came rushing in. After wild con-
tortions of her body, suggestive of frantic efforts at resistance, her
linen garments becoming saturated with perspiration, she presently
fell in a heap in front of the symbol of the Demon-god. The Ca'pua
(priest of the worship of the gods) now stepped forward and com-
menced to narrate her case in an address to the A^rch-Demon. An
ezhortation, well spiced with flowery rhetoric and flattery, came
next. Throughout, the taincama lay at his feet, limp, lifeless — ^yet
no! at intervals desperate endeavours were made to reassert the
supremacy of the obsessing demon. At these tinles her dark eyes
scowled, her white teeth gleamed, and in wrath she foamed at the
mouth. A waxen image of the girl, two inches in height, and a
dagcba (shrine), modelled in silver and beautifully chased, with other
icUa (offerings) were then offered by the CapiM to Wahala. This is
called pandura^ or ransom. After tiiis the Capua requested that the
demon obsessor might be commanded to depart. Thrice is this
request made, an exhortation couched in more and still more flowery
and flattering language being included in the request. Notwith-
standing, the maUa yakseya refused to leave. Now the midnight
yama must decide, this being the time when demons are most powerful
and likewise most accessible. Should the Capua^s efforts fail, woe be
to both patient and himself, both being doomed to be taincama for
life. This, however, rarely happens.
Wben the midnight hour arrived, and the patient still remained
obdurate, corporeal means were resorted to. Bimdles of thorny
sticks are kept in the temple with which to chastise the taincama in
order to subdue the power of the evil obsessor. The cries of the poor
girl were terrible. The spectacle was equally as horrifying. The
demon must be vanquished before cockcrow. Now was tiie time to
do it — ^the midnight yamay or never.
Horrible as is the sight, it is fascinating : the scene was so extra-
vagant in splendour of colouring, and in barbaric, cruel picturesque-
nesB. One could not in this savage, furious creature recognise the
simple village girL Strange gibberish fell from her lip&--demon
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186 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Jidy
language as they call it, paisachi, inteispeised with cnises. Still the
Capua worked away. More ezhortationa to the Arch-Demon Wahala,
alternated with more corporal chastisement. This continiied for folly
an hour. Suddenly, then, a long, loud, piercing shriek made everyone
start ; it seemed to rend the temple. Once more the Capua put the
question, Would the demon depart 1
Then tiie girPs Ups parted, and in a faint voice in Sinhalese she
(or, as they would say, the demon) said : ' Tes, I obey; I depart. Spare
me, Wahala Bandara Dewuja, great and powerful one, second only to
King Wissamony. I go ; I depart.' An answer or acknowledgment
to this from the exhausted Capua was returned in solemn and thankful
tones, equivalent to ^ Amen.' The demon was exorcised. But the
erstwhile tainoama was prostrate. No one is allowed to come near,
much less to touch her, save the Capua, He tied a ran^a-^Mci (con-
secrated thread) around her waist, a yantra (charm) containing a
mamtra from the Vedas around her arm, sprinkled perfumed water
over her, then areca flowers, betel leaves and rat nud blossoms, then
powdered sandal and saffron. After this he knelt on the ground
beside her, his hands extended in benediction, muttering : ^ I pray
that of my virtue, of my strength, of my life this woman may be
restored to health and to chastity now that the demon has left her.'
After this, taking a new white linen cloth, he covered the recumbent
form.
Strict and solemn silence ensued until the first cook crew ; then
the Capua arose. His task ended and accomplished satisfactorily,
he may go his way, not neglectful, though, of the many good things
offered to the arch-demon, which, having served the purpose intended,
are his perquisite now.
Our victoria was in attendance to take us back to civilisation^ as
exemplified in the refinements and comforts of the Queen's Hotel,
Eandy. But, driving through the cool air of breaking day, we had
much to think about and stiU more to wonder over.
Caroline CoRNER-OHLifOTZ.
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1906
IRELAND'S FINANCIAL BURDEN
¥rou tiie course of the recent debate in the House of Commons upon
the financial relations of Great Britain and Ireland it might be supposed
that Ireland had little or no grievance, and was most generously
treated in matters of finance. True the Chancellor of the Exchequer
admitted that the Rojal Commission^ which investigated this subject
neady ten years ago, reported, practically unanimously, that the
taxable capacity of Ireland was not to be estimated as being more
than in the proportion of one to twenty of that of Great Britain ;
bat he proceeded to say that the actual contribution of Ireland
towards Imperial purposes was only in the proportion of one to forty-
five; and the cheers with which this comparative statement was
received would seem to indicate that he was considered to have eSectu-
tHj and satisfactorily disposed of the question. But what has the
qaota contributed by Ireland towards Imperial expenditure to do
with the question whether the ever-increasing load of taxation under
which her aching shoulders are giving way is or is not too heavy for
her to bear ? Nothing whatever. The Chancellor of the Exchequer's
simple sum has really no bearing upon the contention that a larger
amount in taxation is taken out of Ireland than she can afford to
pay, that the contributions of Great Britain and Ireland are not in
proportion to the relative capacity and resources of the two com-
munities, and that the spirit of the Act of Union and the very letter
of the arguments recommending it have been broken thereby.
One of the difi&culties met with in attempting to open the eyes of
tile public to the fact that Ireland is overtaxed lies in the argument
that, Ireland being an indistinguishable portion of the United King-
dom, the basis of inquiry by the Royal Commission on Financial
BelatioDS, namely, that Irelwd must be looked upon, for the pur-
pose of inquiry, as a separate entity, is false and tiie findings of the
Oommissioners worthless. Such a contention is merely burking the
whole question, for, if it be desirable to ascertain whether the poverty,
lade of industrial pursuits, and general backwardness of one portion
of tiie United Kingdom are due to tiie inability of the people inhabiting
it to bear the weight of taxation imposed upon them, it is obviously
neoeesaiy, for the purposes of comparison, to deal with that portion
187
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188 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Jxdj
as with a separate entity. 67 no other means can any comparison
possibly be made. But H Ireland is not to be deemed an entity, then
the same problem merely presents itself in another and somewhat
more complicated shape ; for, in that case, it is certain that the system
of taxation adopted throughout the United Kingdom presses <Uspro-
portionately upon the poorer classes of the community, and as the
proportion of poor to well-to-do is &r larger in Ireland than in Great
Britain, it presses with extremely disproportionate severity upon the
inhabitants of the former island. It really matters notlidng to the
people of Ireland which theory is adopted so &r as the &ct of their
suffering is concerned, though perhaps the temedy to be applied in the
one case may differ somewhat from the remedy which would be most
suitable in the other.
Another argument brought forward against the conclusions of the
Royal Commission is that, although taxation has greatly increased
and population has greatly diminished in Ireland, the existing smaller
population is as well, or better, able to bear the existing higher taxa-
tion than the former larger population was able to bear the former
lower taxation ; in other words, tiiiat the taxable capacity of the indi-
vidual has enormously increased. This theory is not wortiiy of notice.
Since 1820 taxation has increased from 5,256,6842. to 9,748,5001. a
year, or 85 per cent. During the same period population has dimi-
nished from 6,801,827 to 4,414,995, or 36 per cent. If the pressure of
present taxation is no heavier upon the existing population than was
the pressure of taxation in 1820 upon the population then existing,
we must assume that the taxable capacity of the individual has
increased by over 170 per cent., a proposition which no sane man
will accept. Even since 1890 taxation has increased by 25*09 per
cent., while population has fallen by 6*56 per cent.
That the case of Ireland is quite peculiar must be admitted. The
taxable capacity of her inhabitants constitutes quite a different
question fiom the taxable capacity of submerged populations in
our great cities, or of the twelve millions who are, according to Sir
Henry Campbell Bannerman, dironically on the verge of starvation.
We must in common justice go back to the origin of the existing
condition of things. The Act of Union and the conditions expressed
or implied in it must be considered. The Union was a treaty — a
bargain — ^between two independent legislatures, and it was made
subject to certain conditions. The financial principle adopted in the
Act was that each country should contribute to Imperial expenditure
in proportion to its capacity and resources. Throughout the debates
it was repeatedly affirmed that Ireland should receive exceptional treat-
ment until such time as, by the reduction of the national debt of Great
Britain and other changes, the two countries should reach a condition of
parity.^ Lord Castiereagh stated fhat ' as to the future it is expected
' Ireland at this date contained one-third of the population of the United
Kingdom ; now it contains about one-tenth.
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1906 IRELAND'S FINANCIAL BUBDEN 189
tiiat the two countries should move f orwaid andjunite with regard to
their expenses in the mecuure of their relative oMUies.* No one can
read the debates on the Act of Union without realising that the essential
principle was that taxation should be in accordance with the relative
capacities of the two countries to bear the burden. That taxation
is not in accordance with the relative capacities of Great Britain and
Ireland to bear the burden, and that Ireland is overtaxed to her own
detriment and to the detriment of Great Britain and the Empire, is
my contention ; and it is not, I think, difficult to sustain.
A point too repeatedly forgotten is that the question should be
removed from the stormy wrangles of opposing political parties, for
Unionists and Nationalists, Conservatives and Radicals alike wish
Ireland to thrive. It is essentially a matter of business arrangement
between Ireland and Great Britain, and any political economist, to
whatever school he may belong, will agree that if the Imperial Parlia-
ment is taking more in taxation from Ireland than she can legitimately
afford to pay, injury is being done not only to Ireland, but indirectly
to Great Britain, in so far as overtaxation limits industrial develop-
ment, and thus perpetuates and aggravates those distressing tenden-
cies in the condition of Ireland which during the past sixty years
have drained the country of half of its population, have driven count-
less thousands into the lunatic asylums and poorhouses, and have
condemned the remaining population to the most hopeless of all human
occupations — ^the contemplation of a gloomy past, and of a future
with no solid basis of hope.
The poverty of Ireland is the great factor in the case which demands
the serious consideration of statesmen and of the whole British people,
who since the Union are responsible for her. Unfortunately it has
been obscured by the somewhat confused findings of the Royal Com-
misnon on Financial Relations which reported eight years ago, and
it may be wise to endeavour to assess the relative wealth of Great
Britain and Ireland without much reference to those much debated
rq>orts, bearing in mind, however, that the Commissioners agreed that,
as compared with Great Britain, Ireland was taxed far above her
capacity to bear taxation.
In commending the articles of the Treaty of Union to the Irish
House of Commons, Lord Gastlereagh admitted that * he considered
the best possible criterion of the relative means and ability of two
countries to bear taxation would be the produce of an income tax
levied on the same description of incomes in each, and equally well
levied in both.' This criterion was not available in 1800 because
Ireland at that time did not pay income tax. She was admitted to
that privilege by Mr. Gladstone in 1853. This criterion is now avail-
able. Owing to the patient researches of the Treasury, and the
copious returns with reference to the finances of the two countries
which are now issued, but which were not issued ten years ago when
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140
THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY
July
the Ro7al ComnuBaion sat, it is not a diffioalt matter to compaie
to-day the resources of the two countries. A good working estimate
of the relative condition of two communities can be arrived at hj
contrasting : %
(1) The net produce of income tax.
(2) The salaries paid to corporation and public company officials.
(3) The relative populations.
(4) The excess of births over deaths.
(5) The wage-earning capacity of the labouring classes.
(1) As a test of the condition of Ireland the available statistics
as to income tax may be taken. As soon as this aspect of the question
is approached objections are raised by financial experts of various
schools as to the difficulty of arriving by such means at an exact in-
dication of the taxable wealth of Qreat Britain on the one hand and
Ireland on the other. That may be so in detail, but in detail only.
For the purpose of comparison between the social condition of the
two peoples it is essential only to give the salient figures, and refer
to the general deductions to be drawn from them. The simple and
convincing argument surely is that the net receipt from income tax
may be accepted as a general indication of the wealth or poverty
of communities in which the same tax is levied on the same general
principles and with the same stringency. This applies to the whole
United Kingdom over which the rate is similar, and the tax b
levied by the same executive machinery. If this comparison indi-
cates that one country has a very much larger income-tax-paying
section than the other country, and that the net receipts per
capita are also larger, it may surely be taken to show that in that
country a freer movement of floating capital, a healthier condition
of industry, and probably also a higher standard of comfort exist.
According to the figures which have been quoted by the Chancellor
of the Exchequer, Ireland contributed in 1903-4 only 3*73 of the
total income tax raised in the United Kingdom. Details for the
year referred to by Mr. Austen Chamberlain are now available. Some
interesting statistics are contained in the report of the Commis-
sioners of his Majesty's Inland Revenue for the year ended the
Slst of March, 1904, and on page 189 is a table showing the net
receipt of income tax in the three main divisions of the United
Kingdom. From these we obtain the following figures for the year
1903-4 :_
-
£
80,600,460
2,772,768
EnglAodand
Wales
Scotland
Ireland
Net receipt .
Net produce of a
Id. rate in the £
(about)
£
26,786,686
2,486,189
£
2,676,694
248,244
£
1,088,221
94,884
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1906
IBELAND'S FINANCIAL BUBDEN
141
It is snfficieiit to call attention to this remaikable difference
between the net receipts in the three divisions of the United Kingdom.
The absence of tax-paying incomes in Ireland is strikinglj revealed
by the variation in the produce of each penny in the pomid of the
tax in tiie year 1903-4, and is further borne out by the calculation
that Ireland pays <mly just over one twenty-seventh of the total
{ffoduce of the income tax of the United Kingdom.
Turning from the total net receipt to the figures given in Schedule
D» we have a further striking illustration of the industrial condition
of the Irish people. Under iMa schedule, which is the section of
ecMnmerce and industry, returns are made of the ^profits from
bnsbesses, concerns, professions, employments, and certain interest/
and the following information is given : —
-
United
Kingdom
Bngl-nd ani
SooUud
IreUsd
Nomber of assess-
m^ts .
550,515
469,017
68,688
22,865
Feroentages of above
totals .
100
88-89
12-46
415
Net gross amount of
income assessed .
^491,646,201
^£427,875,985
£51,556,246
£1-2,714,020
Percentages of above
totals .
100
86-94
10-47
2-69
Income on which tax
was received
1
£861,408,999
£814,885,819
£88,598,850
£7,919,880
These figures show that Ireland has a very small proportion of
persons, firms, and public companies assessable to income tax. The
nnmber of Irish assessments is in the proportion of 4*15 to the
whole of the United Kingdom, while the average gross income
attributable to each assessment is on the average far smaller in pro-
portion than the gross income returned for England and Wales,
or Scotland.
As the Chancellor of the Exchequer has stated, Ireland pays
3-73 per cent, of the total income tax of the United Kingdom, and
roughly this may be accepted as an index filgore indicating the relative
wealth of the country. When we turn from direct taxation to the
statistics bearing on the indirect taxation we find, however, that the
proportion is completely changed. The latest Treasury returns show
that in the year ended the 31st of March, 1904, the ^ true revenue '
paid by Ireland amounted to 9,748,6002., while Great Britain contri-
buted 137,184,6002. On this basis Ireland contributed 6-63 per cent,
of the total revenue of the United Kingdom, whereas, as has been
admitted by the Chancellor of the Exchequer, she is capable of
raising only 3*73 of the total amount due to the operation of the
income tax. Presuming that her financial condition is more or less
accurately revealed by the produce of the income tax, Ireland's true
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142
THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT
July
ocmtribution to the levenue of the United Kingdom shotdd be about
5,400,0002. In other words, she appears to be paying over four
millions sterling in taxation more than she should contribute. This
conclusion does not entirely agree with the finding upon which
the Royal Commission was * practically unanimous,' but that was
nearly ten years ago. The Commissioners fomid tiiat * while the
actual taxed revenue of Ireland is about one-ebventh of Great
Britain the relative taxable capacity of Ireland is very much smaller,
and is noi estimated by am/ of its as exceeding one^wentieth* This
is the .practically unanimous ocmdusion of the Commission, but
it must be noticed that a number of its members held that the
taxable capacity of Ireland was very much less. No doubt, owing
to the war, and the taxation which has been imposed since the Com-
mission reported, the burden of increased taxation has been very
much more severe upon Ireland than upon other parts of the United
Kingdom, because the indirect taxation imposed is felt by the poorer
classes, who form so large a proportion of the population, with great
severity. In view, therefore, of the present heavy burden of indirect
taxation any unbiassed investigator would now, I think, come to the
condusipn that the taxable capacity of Ireland in relation to the
present Budget arrangements is very much smaller than it was at
the time of the Royal Commission's inquiry ; and probably he would
agree that the proportionate taxable capacity of Ireland, with her
present population, which has fallen, since the Royal Conmdssion
was appointed, by over two hundred thousand, is now about one-
twenty-seventh of the whole of the United Kingdom.
(2) To turn to the salaries of Corporation and public company
officials. The following table for the year 1902-3 will be found
instructive : —
TaBLB SHOWINO fob BAOH PABT 07 THE UnITBD EinODOM TBB NuMBBB 07
ASSBSSMBNTS AND THE GbOSS InOOME ASSESSED IN EESPBGT OF SaLABIBS
07 GOBPOEATION AND PUBUO GOMPANT OFFICIALS : —
-
and WalM
BooUand
Iidud
United
Kingdom
Number of assessments
Gross income assessed
284,488
£51,059,660
27.185
£6,070,975
10,982
£2,488,227
272,500
£59,568,862
It would appear, therefore, that the wealth of Ireland, as indicated
by the number of officials in the employ of mmdcipalities and
public companies, is, as compared with that of Great Britain, very
smaU.
(3) As to the relative populations. The decline of the population
of Ireland, which has been going on for the past sixty years, has been
again and again dinned into the ears of the British people, but .they
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1906 IBELAND'S FINANCIAL BUBDEN 148
faSl sppaientty to appiedate that the depression which crushes
Ireland is still driving out of the country an increasing proportion
of the physically and mentally fit. English people are apt to imagine
that the great flow of emigration which occurred after the potato
&nune has since narrowed down into comparatively insignificant
chaimels. The exact opposite is the case. In proportion to the present
population of Ireland the emigration is as serious a social drain
as it has ever been in her history. Last year 37,415 emigrants left
tilieir native land, and in the first three months of the present year
the number of emigrants was 1204 per cent, greater than the average
of the three previous corresponding periods. Again, last year 21 per
cent, of an the emigrants who left the British Isles were natives of
Ireland, as compared with 18 per cent, in the preceding year.
The decrease in the population of Ireland is one of the most remark-
able social facts in the modem history of the world. Nearly four
million people in sixty years, about 90 per cent, of them in the prime
of Hfe, have fled from Ireland, and those who have remained appear
to have done so of necessity rather than of choice.
The evil results of this artificial, extravagant, and unnecessary
flow of emigration are not by any means confined to Ireland. The
actual decline of population is a direct loss to the United Kingdom,
and the direction in which the fiood of emigration sets is an indirect
loss to Great Britain and a direct loss to the Empire. The great
proportion of British emigrants settle within the Empire. The
bulk of those who sail from Irish ports find a new home in tiie United
States. All these many millions are a direct loss to Canada with her
illimitable supply of cultivable land; and are an indirect but very
substantial loss to Qreat Britain, owing to the fact that they go to
sweU a population buying from us at the rate of fo. per head
instead of adding to a population buying frotn us at the rate of
U. 188. 8d. per head.
And the effects of sentiment must not be despised. The majority
of Irish emigrants desert their country with hearts hardened against
those whom they hold to be responsible for the diseases which afSict
it, and go out into the world disseminating the story of Irish grievances
and English injustice. The flow of emigrants from Ireland is con-
sequentiy proving not only a fatal drain upon the land which gave
them birth, and which they still continue to regard with natural
affection, but it involves also a dead loss to British manufacturers
and those employed by them ; and, as a large proportion of the
exiles go out into other countries with their hearts rebellious against
British rule and British institutions, it cannot fail to be a source of
anxiety to all those who value good relations with the great Republic
across the sea, who desire to draw closer the bonds uniting the com-
ponent parts of our Empire, and who attach inestimable value to the
homc^eneity of the English-speaking race.
Digitize'd by LjOOQ IC
144 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY July
(4) Another striking indication of the condition of Ireland is
supplied hj the figures as to the excess of births over deatiis.
Statisticians generally admit that a good indication of general
wholesome ocmditions of living iu a community is furnished by a
considerable excess of birUis over deaths, togetiier with a moderate
birth-rate and a low death-rate. It is held that in a well-bvoured
community marriages are deferred owing to the saving habits of
the people, and although the birth-rate is low the infant mortality
is very small. Sir Robert Gifien, in the evidence which he gave
before the Royal Commission on financial relations^ dealt convinoin^y
with this aspect of life in Ireland. He said :
When we take the oomparison on this head between Ireland and the other
oonntries of the United Kingdom, we find, according to the latest statistical
abstract, the births in Ireland were 106,000, the deaths 88,000, and the excess
of births over deaths 28,000, giving a proportion per thousand of the population
of the excess of births over deaths of five per thousand. In England in the
same year the births were 914,000, the deaths 670,000, the excess of births over
deaths 844,000, and the proportion of the excess of births over deaths per
thousand of population comes out at 11*4, or more than double the correspond-
ing excess in Ireland. Similarly for Scotland the births in the same year were
127,000, the deaths 80,000, and the excess of births over deaths 47,000, giving
the proportion per thousand of the population of the excess of births over deaths
of 11*5, just about the same as the proportion for England, and in both oases
much more than double the excess of births over deaths in Ireland.
I should say that the reason of it is, as far as one can judge, not any exces-
sive mortality in Ireland, because the deaths, you will observe, in Ireland are
yery little more than the deaths in Scotland with a somewhat larger population^
but it is a deficiency of births, and that seems connected with another charac-
teristic of Ireland's population — ^that the population in Ireland appears on the
whole to be an older population than that of either England or Scotland.
In Ireland no less than 18*6 per cent, of the male population are upwards
of fifty, but in Scotland and England the percentages are 18*5 and 18*7 respec-
tively. The percentage in Ireland between twenty and forty (that is, of the
male population) is 26*6 per cent., and in Scotland and Englimd 28*9 and 29*0
respectively. The percentages of female population are much the same as the
percentages of the male population. The conclusion is, therefore, that Ireland
has fewer people in proportion in the prime of life, and more above fifty, than
Great Britain has.
Sir Robert Giffen pointed out that all these figures indicative] of
the small excess of births over deaths, and the composition of the
population, together with the notorious facts as to emigration, corre-
sponded, and revealed the same conclusion — ^that the actual population
in Ireland is far weaker, man for man, counting everybody, than the
actual population of either England or Scotland. It would be
possible to illustrate ip detail Sir Robert Oiffen's conclusions hj
some recent statistics, but it may be sufficient to recall the broad
fact, revealed hj the Registrar-General's report for 1903 (the last
available), that while in the intervening ten years the Urth-rate
remained stationary, the death-rate and emigration rate only
Digitized by VjOOQlC
1906 IBELAND'8 FINANCIAL BUBDEN 146
decreased to a very slight, extent ' and the lelative proportion between
larthy death, and emigration rates to which Sir Robert Gifien called
attention remained practically stationary. Ireland's birth-rate is
now almost the lowest in the world. The excess of births over deaths
ptf thousand for the estimated population in 1903 amounted to 4*6,
while the ratio of emigrants was nine per thousand ; in other words,
the proportion of emigrants who left the country in 1903, as for any
of the previous ten years, was about twice as great as the excess of
births over deaths. Consequentiy year by year the population of
Ireland is actually decreasing by between four and five per thousand,
because emigration is proceeding more rapidly than the natural
incroaae.
These most suggestive figures read side by side with the statistics
as to lunacy and idiocy prove conclusively that the oonditbn of
Iieland, instead of improving, is becoming more and more aggravated.
According to the last census, of every 10,000 persons in Ireland
52*6 are r^^istered as lunatics or idiots. The ratio is over 30 per cent,
higher than that which rules in England and Wales. The increase
of lunacy in Ireland, to which I referred at length in a pamphlet.
The Crisis in Ireland, is one of the most alarming sodal facts
revealed with terrible lucidity in the last Oensus report, in which it
was stated that
The total nxunber of Itinatios and idiots returned in 1851 was equal to a
nftio of 1 in 667 of the population ; in 1861, to 1 in 411; in 1871, to 1 in 828; in
1881, to 1 in 281 ; in 1801, to 1 in 222 ; and on the present occasion, to 1 in 178.
(5) Ab to the wage-earning capacity of the labouring population
m Ireland, Sir Robert Giff en quoted, before the Boyal Commission cm
Knandal Relations, a number of most interesting statements. He held
that the average wages in Ireland, when great masses of labour are com-
pared, range from 10 to 15 per cent, up to nearly 60 per cent, lower
than for similar masses of labour for Great Britain.' Turning to special
dasses, he admitted that artisan rates in Ireland are only a little less
tiian in Great Britain, but he pointed out that in this case the com-
panson is between a very small class indeed in Ireland with an encnr-
mous class in Great Britain. Comparing the wage rates of Ireland
and Great Britain, Sir Robert Giffen held that the average remunera-
tion of the wage-earner, man for man, is probably only about half
the average remuneration of the wage-earner in Great Britain.
Sir Robert Giffen's conclusions are borne out by all who have
had opportunities of observing the condition of the labouring classes
' In 1903 the upward tendency of emigration which has since occurred had not
become marked.
' Thii eondiision has since been controverted, it being held that in no case is
irdand's inUaaotitj more than 40 per cent. The point does not, however, serionsly
afleet the present argoment.
Vol. LVm— No. S41 L
Digitized by VjOOQlC
146 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT July
in tlie two countries. Ireland has singularly few industries apart
from agriculture, and the Board of Trade has shown that the
average wage of the labourer in Ireland is only 10». lid., while in
England it rises to 18s. 8d., in Wales to 17«. Sd., and in Scotland to
19«. Sd. a week. This rate, it must be remembered, is for the whole
of Ireland, and the proportion would be even lower were it not for the
comparative prosperity enjoyed by workers in a few districts. In
seven counties the average weekly earnings do not amount to 10s. a
week, Mayo being the lowest with 6s. 9d., while in Sligo the sum is
6s. lid., and in Roscommon 9s. Id. The working classes of Ireland,
in comparison with the working classes of Great Britain, are desperately
poor, and the lower the wage the more heavily does indirect taxation
bear upon the population. While in Great Britain direct and indirect
taxation are fairly evenly balanced, in Ireland the poverty of the
country is so great that 72'2 per cent, of the amount which Ireland
pajrs into the Imperial Exchequer is raised by taxes upon such com-
modities as are in daily use by the poorest people. Summarising all
the above-mentioned statistics and figures, the facts which stand out
are as f oUows :
(1) The wealth of Ireland, as proved by income-tax returns, by taxed
salaries of officiak in the employ of municipaUties and public com-
panies, by the wage-earning capacity of the labouring classes, by the
marriage and birth rate, and by all other tests, is, as compared with
the wealth of Great Britain, out of proportion to the relative amoimt
of taxation paid by the people of the two islands.
(2) The best of the population is still flowing outward from Ireland
and seeking a future outside the British Empire, 89 per cent, of Irish
emigrants settling in foreign countries.
(3) The excess of births over deaths is still so small as to point
to, on the one hand, physical deterioration of a most alarming char-
acter, and, on the other, to an absence of a due proportion of able-
bodied persons remaining in the country.
(4) The emigration of the most physically and mentally fit, and
the hopeless life which is led by the largest section of the people
of Ireland, are resulting in an increase of lunacy which is proving
a scourge to the land.
Surely it is unnecessary to probe for further indications of the
accelerated speed at which Ireland is sinking into a social condition
which will baffle the efforts of the wisest statesmen. The best of the
population is still flying from the country, and the worst is finding
its way into the lunatic asylums and poorhouses, and a very large
proportion of those who are left are for the most part too poor to work
out their own salvation.
The facts of Ireland's poverty and Ireland's over-taxation will
not, I think, be denied by anyone who reads the facts and figures
which I have quoted and studies the materials from which they
Digitized by VjOOQlC
1906 IRELAND'S FINANCIAL BURDEN 147
have been culled. Which is the cause and which the efiEect ? Is
Ireland overtaxed because she is poor, or poor because she is over^
taxed ? Both these theories are true. Unquestionably the crashing
weight of taxation smothers individual efiEort and stifles energy;
unquestionably also the absence of industrial employment and the
general poverty in Ireland account for the fact that the equal taxa-
tion of the same articles places upon her an unequal burden. Differen-
tial taxation is impracticable. Changes in our methods of raising
levenue beneficial to the poorer classes in Qreat Britain and conse-
qoentiy beneficial to Ireland as a whole are not impraoticable, but
cannot be relied upon as a remedy for a disease demanding inunediate
teatment. There remaios the principle underlying t^e Union —
exceptional treatment imder exceptional circumstances. If Great
Britain is to act with common justice, if she is to honestiy carry out
the terms of the treaty entered into by the two independent legisla-
tures in the Act amalgamating them, she must follow one of two
oouises. Either she must carry out the promise of Lord Gastiereagh
that taxation should be with regard to the measure of the relative
abifities of the two countries to pay, and must adopt differential
tieaianent and the remission of taxation — a poUcy which appears to
me impossible; or she must endeavour to increase the taxable
capacity of Ireland by the wise application of public money to the
development and the more fmitful utilisation of the natural resources
of the country. One obvious source of supply for this most necessary
purpose is in retrenchment in the expenses of administration and in
the allocation to Irish purposes of the savings thus effected. Even
the present Qovemment appears to see the advantages of such a
coane. Speaking in the recent deBate on the 16th of May, the
CSiancellor of the Exchequer referred to the fact that he had
hat year expressed his concurrence in the proposal of the then
CSiief Secretary, that if further economy be made in the Irish
judiciary the sum so saved should be respent in Ireland on the
purposes of development or of administration which should commend
themselves to the Government and the people of that country. He
tiiought that in more branches than one of the Irish administration it
was probable that, with the goodwill of the Irish members, consider-
able economies could be made. Mr. Austen Chamberlain guarded
the Treasury against the admission that, as of right, the whole of
administrative savings should go to Irish purposes ; but when I find
the pres^it Chief Secretary, Mr. Long, allowing that reform in adminis-
tration is necessary, and the present Chancellor of the Exchequer,
Mr. Austen Chamberlain, agreeing that it is possible to effect economies,
tod that a portion at any rate of the money so saved should be devoted
to Irish services, I haU with satisfaction an admission—- even if it be
only a partial, halting, and tentative admission — of the principle for
which I contend. But the principle can be brought into active
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148
THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT
July
operation only in one way, and tliat iB by enliwting ike direct aid of
the public in Ireland. Economies will be effected only by making
it directly to the interest of the people that such economies should be
made, and that can be accomplished only by assuring them that the
money so saved shall be devoted to Irish purposes ; and eccmomies
will be brought about only if local knowledge, interest, brains, and
experience are allowed to determine the purposes to which the money
so saved is to be applied.
That a great saving of expenditure can be effected is certain.
The Qovemment in Ireland is carried out through a number of depart-
ments which do not represent, and are not in the remotest degree
under the control of, tiiose who are governed. Year by year the
expenditure proceeds at an extravagant rate despite the protests of
the Irish people, and in such circumstances it is surely unfair to taunt
them with the fact that the balance of revenue available for Imperii^
purposes is very small. If the Chancellor of the Exchequer is
going to defend the taxation of Ireland upon the basis of Imperial
contribution, he should in common &imess justify the growth of
local expenditure from just imder three millions in 1870 to seven and
a half millions in the year ending the 31st of March, 1904.
The latest available figures from the report of the CommissionerB
of HJf . Inland Revenue throw some light upon the cost of govern-
ment in Ireland, as a glance at the following table will show :
Table sHowiNa fob bach pabt of thb Ukitbd Kingdom ths nttxbbb of
ASSBSSMBNTS AND THB QbOSS InOOMB ASSIPSSBD ON Gk>VBRMMBNT OFFICIALS
FOB THB Tbab 1902-8:
-
Bngland
Toua
Scotland
Inland
United
Kingdoni
Number of ABsessments
Qross Income
78,465
£21,577,011
942
£297,899
2,691
£1,028,516
82,100
£22,877,926
From the above tables it will be seen that Ireland, with the same
population approximately as Scotland, is blessed witii 2691 Oovem-
ment officiak in comparison with 942 in Scotland, and that the total
payment in Ireland for Qovemment officials amounts to over
1,000,0002. per year, while in Scotland the gross outlay is less than
300,0002. Ireland has, as compared with Scotland, the privilege of
entertaining many more Qovemment officiab and of paying a good
deal more per head for them.
The Chancellor of the Exchequer dismisses the subject with the
taunt that Ireland contributes but little to Imperial expenditure.
Ireland cries aloud and bitterly that she is choked and smothered
under taxation altogether beyond her capacity to pay. And what
is the cause of both complaints ? A scandalously extoavagant system
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1906 IBELAND'8 FINANCIAL BUBDEN 149
of finanniAl admimstnttion, and the divoice of the people from the
oondiiot of their own afibiis. To insist on burdening Ireland with a
system of government the most ezpennve in the world, the most
irresponsible and the least reflective of the wishes of the people of the
ooontiy ; to refuse to aDow public opinion to be brought to bear upon
departmental administration, to deny the people the right to make
eoonomies and to devote the proceeds to the needs of the people and
the development of the country, appears to me a policy btuous and
irrational, and incompatible with the democratic spirit of the form
(rf government under which we live.
* Ireland should be governed according to Irish ideas,' said Lord
Dudley, the Lord Lieutenant and Head of the Executive, and speak-
ing as a member of the Government. Lord Londonderry, a member of
the Qovemment and of the Cabinet, acting in what capacity I do not
exactiy know, but according to Mr. Moore as the Plenipotentiary
for Ulster, whatever that may be, * objects entirely to the phrase.'
According to him Ireland is not to be governed according to Irish
ideas. There we have the case in a nutshell, and I c(nnmend it to
the consideration of all Englishmen who have the faintest belief in
popular rights, and who desire to imderstand the causes of Irish
poverty, decay, and discontent.
That governing Ireland according to Irish ideas was the policy of
the present Government there can be no question. It is proved by
aD the interesting incidents brought to light during the discussions
on what is commonly known as the MacDonnell afiEair in the House
of Commons, by the appointment of Sir Antony MacDonneU, by the
conditions attaching to that appointment, by tiie programme <^wn
op by Mr. Wyndham and Sir Antony MacDonnell, by the whole
hatoxy of Mr. Wyndham's administration. * Ireland must be governed
according to Irish ideas,' ^ Ireland must not be governed according
to Irish ideas.' There is a distinct avowal of a policy and a disavowal
<rf that policy equally distinct for which I am thankful, for it places the
iflsne erystallised in a sentence, and clearly defined before the- people
of Qreat Britain. What the immediate consequences of these political
gymnastics may be I cannot say ; it depends largely upon how long
it takes the present Chief Secretary to emancipate himself from
tutelage and to look and judge for himself ; but it requires no gift of
prophecy to foretell which policy will ultimately prevail
To one other matter I would eamestiy call the attention of English
people. Is it reasonable to suppose that Ireland can be rescued from
her pieaent desperate condition, that her own intelligence, industry,
aod powers can be utilised for the development of her own resources,
that her people can become hopeful, self-reliant, and contented, so
kng as she is subject to these violent reveisab of policy ? What can
the be expected to do for herself so long as she sees herself the mere
^ything of political forces which she cannot control With changes
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160 TEE NINETEENTH CENTUBY July
in broad lines of policy incidental to changeB of Government we are
all accustomed. It is part of the play and action of political forces
and principles— a natoial result of our whole sjrstem of party govern-
ment. But such a complete voUe face as we have lately seen, such an
astounding reversal of policy on the part of a Government in power,
is a new thing and one that makes strongly for reform of the character
advocated by the Irish Reform Association. That Association has
asked that some legislative functions and some voice in the preparation
of estimates, in the allocation of public money and in financial adminis-
tration should be delegated by Parliament to an Irish body, and has
asked it on the ground that, in a portion of the United Kingdom
differentiating so profoundly from the other portions, the application
of local knowledge, intelligence, and interest is necessary for efficient
administration, for the effecting of economies, for the most productive
utilisation of public money ; and on the ground also of the educational
value of responsibility. I now put in this further plea. Unless in
details, but details vitally affecting her material interests, Ireland is
protected from the mere passing exigencies of parties, it is idle to
suppose that Irishmen can devote themselves as they should and as
tiiey could to the healing of differences, the restoration of industries,
the development of natural resources and the extrication of their
country from the melancholy plight in which she hopelessly sits.
The Irish Reform Association ought, I frankly admit, to have been
dead long ago. It has been puffed out, blown up, and, according to
the latest aecounts from Belfast, torn to shreds and tatters ; but
somehow or other it is very much alive and more tiian ever confident
that the truth, wisdom, and justice of its views will surely prevail.
Whatever way be the opinion of the Chief Secretary for Ireland as to
the Irish Reform Association's programme, those who advocate some
form of devolution are in complete agreement with him in believing
that there is room for reform and improvement in tiie administration,
but they have not been content to confine themselves to airy phrases
which may mean nothing, but have banded themselves together to
reduce their aspirations to practical shape. They, like Mr. Long,
believe that law and order must be maintained in Ireland ; they, like
Mr. Long, have viewed with satis&ction and gratitude the develop-
ment of Irish policy imder the influence of Mr. Wyndham and Lord
Dudley, and they, like Mr. Long, admit that the Unionist Government
if only by granting Ireland self-government in county affairs and by
passing the Land Act of 1903 has achieved more than any British
administration for many years past. The Irish Reform Association
has no feeling of hostility towards the Unionist party, but only one
of regret that they have taken their hand off the plough. They are
proud of the foundations of a sounder Irish policy which were securely
laid ^a few years ago, and they look to the completion of the edifice
by reforms that will set free large]|^sums of money to be applied to
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1906 IRELAND'S FINANCIAL BUBDEN 161
the deyelopment of Ireland's resouioes, and that will ensoie that Iriih
bnainees will be adequately attended to.
In certain gieat Imperial questions, such as the expenditure of
the United Kingdom or the fairness or unfaimeiw of our system of
taxation, questions with wliich no Irish body with delegated powers
would be competent to deal, Ireland is vitally conoemed. It is for
that reason that, putting aside for the moment all consideration for
the interests of the United Kingdom and of the Empire, and looking
at the matter solely from an Irish point of view, any arrangement
depriving Ireland of representation at Westminster appears suicidal
to me. In that representation lies her only safeguard. No amount
of l^islation, neither the institution of subordinate bodies, nor of
independent legislatures, nor the granting of absolute and complete
separation can remove the smaller body, Ireland, from the attraction
and influence of the larger body, Great Britain. Though no outward
and visible sign whatever of connection existed, yet Ireland would
be attached to Great Britain as surely as the moon is attached to
the earth ; and as surely as the moon follows the earth in
her orbit so surely must Ireland accompany Great Britain in her
career. But there is this difference, Ireland can very largely influence
^t career. Irish representatives have not, it is true, exercised
much influence on general policy. Owing to various causes which
cannot be entered upon now, Irish representatives in the House of
Commons have not represented large minorities containing a high
proportion of educated thought and of commercial and industrial
enterprise. The Nationalist party is in that sense not truly national.
Ireland does not speak in Parliament with a united voice, though
she sometimes does so outside l^e walls of Westminster, and
gains her ends. Irish representatives have sought to reach their mark
by violent hostility to Great Britain and the Empire. Such a course
may or may not be wise, but it certainly has this result, that on
sobjects of vast importance to the Empire, to Great Britain and
Ireland, such as our whole fiscal sjrstem, war and peace, the incidence
of taxation, the opinions of Irish members of Parliament carry com-
paratively little weight. Be all this as it may, representation at
Westminster is in my humble opinion a necessity for Ireland, and it
foOows, according to my lights, that the Union and the Supremacy of
Parliament must in their essentials be maintained. Reform must
come through devolution, and such reform must be gradual. In a
circular privately issued ^ in March 1903 on the subject of the Irish
Question, and to which the formation of the Irish Reform Associa-
tion may be traced, it is stated that * only in a reasonable sjrstem of
gradual devolution of legislative powers is to be found the solution
^ This oinmUr was signed by Colonel W. Hotoheson PoS, Mr. Lindsey Talbot-
Crosbie, ICr. B. H. Prior- Wandesforde, Mr. A. More (yPerrall, and Mr. M. V. Blacker-
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162 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY July
of the problem that demands such uigent oomdderatioii. In no other
way can Parliament be relieved from the ever-increasing strain of
public business or the legitimate aspirations of Ireland for some form
of self-government be met.' With that opinion I most cordially
agree. What we have to do is to feel our way upward from the Act
of 1898 which gave Ireland local self-government as far as county
administration is concerned.
DXTNRAVEN.
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1906
COUNT ST. PAUL IN PARIS
' In moments of progress the noble suqceed, beoanse things are going
ihdr way ; in moments of decadence the base succeed for tiie same
reason.' It mi^t be weQ to recall the career of one man whose life
may reasonably be described as a failure, for no apparent reason,
except that his lot was cast in times of decadence, and that he him-
adf was fit for times of progress.
Althoi:^h St. Paul represented England in France for four years,
1772-1776, his name does not appear in Ihe Dictumary of National
Biography. Nobody ever heard of him, and many a man, on hearing
of St. Paul in Paris, mi^t anticipate hearing some fables about
St Paul of Tarsus.
Thero has been of late a tendency to glorify the insignificant.
A man is not necessarily important or interesting because nobody
heard of him ; it is quite possible to be incompetent as well as obscure.
Hence it may be as well to state at once that St. Paul was British
Kinister Plenipotentiary, at the age of forty-four, and represented
King George the Third at the Courts of Louis the Fifteenth and Louis
^ Sixteenth during the anxious years that preceded the war of
American Independence. This is a position at once considerable and
lesponsible. It remains to be seen whether or no St. Paul was found
wanting in this position, and whether time is wasted in endeavour-
mg to do justice to his memory.
St. Paul arrived in Paris on the 9th of September, 1772, having
been fifteen hours making the crossing between Dover and Calais.
At the present day, in thick weather, the packet sometimes finds
itself opposite the M6tropole at Folkestone, a good mile to the west
of Ihe harbour, and that in spite of powerful steam whistles blowing
every minute from a pierhead thrust far out into the Channel. We
can easily imagine that when the harbours of England were as Turner
saw them — small basins, with tiny lighthouses (that still remain)
and only slender wooden piers to protect the entrances — ^the little
boats tiiat could alone ply in such conditions must have found
tiieir tw^ily miles of sea a veritable waste of water fraught with
perik.
The perils of the water were, however, as nothing to the perils
of Ihe mainland — diplomatic perils.
168
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164 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT July
St. Paul's appointment in 1772 was that of Secretary of Embassy,
an office which he took over from Colonel Blaquidie. In those days
this was a personal and not a service appointment. Lord Stormont,
the Ambassador Extraordinary, was in Vienna ; he urged the appoint-
ment of his personal friend to the secretaryship and obtained his
wish, although St. Paul had previously held no diplomatic appoint-
ments. Similarly Lord Harcourt — ^just appointed to Ireland from
Paris — carried with him his own personal friend, Colonel Blaqui^re,
to Dublin. This distinction between the diplomatic service of 1772
and the same service to-day has to be borne in mind ; it was possible
to enter it in high place without any demonstrated knowledge or
experience of diplomatic affairs.
Installed, then, in the Rue de GreneUe, and presented to the
King and the royal family, the Count of St. Paulj found himself
face to face with the Foreign Minister, the Due d'Aiguillon. What
was the policy of the Due d'Aiguillon ! In effect it amounted to
this : to carry out as much of the policy of his predecessor, the Due
de Choiseul, as Madame du Barri would allow him to do. What
was the policy of the Due de Choiseul? Revenge for 1763. The
Treaty of Paris, signed in that year, satisfied neither France nor
England, but France felt that she had been humiliated, and with
some reason. Writing eight years ago of the temper in which France
set to work, I wrote in the Latt Empires of the Modem World :
* It is not to be expected that a great nation, proud and mighty,
like France, should tamely endure such intolerable humiliation.'
It was not until two years ago that I found that this language had
been almost verbally anticipated by the British Cabinet of 1772.
^ It is not easy to imagine,' wrote Lord Rochford, on the 10th of
December, 1772, in his separate and private instruction to the
Embassy, ^ It is not easy to imagine that after so great Disgraces,
both by Sea and Land, and after the Cession of so vast a Territory
to our Crown in consequence of their last war, the Court of France
. • . should not have Thoughts of putting Themselves in a Condition
to recover in Time Their lost Possessions.*
This is an intelligible policy, and we may weQ ask why Madame
du Barri should have opposed it. The answer is that she opposed it,
not on poKtical, but on personal grounds — because it emanated
from the Due de Choiseul. She hated him, and brought about his
exile in 1770. Choiseul used to say humorously of himself : ^ When
I was in the army I got on well with everybody, except Monteynard,
who became Minister of War. At the Foreign Office I had to censure
one man, and only one man, Vergennes, and he became Minister
for Foreign Affairs. All my life I have obliged the ladies, with the
one exception, Madame du Barri, and she became Queen of France,
or as good as Queen.'
Therefore the ^ policy ' of France came to this : that there was
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1906 COUNT ST. PAUL IN PABI8 166
no ' policy ' at all ; anTthing might happen. * This couniiy/ wiote
Mercy d'Argentean to his Court after the £all of Choiseol, ' is without
justice, without a ministry, and without money.' When, after six
months, there was once more a Ministry, it was described as that of
' une fille entour^ de trois fripons.' The lady so unmercifully defined
by her enemies was Madame du Barn, and the three knaves were the
dumoellor, the Due d'Aiguillon, and the infamous Terray, Finance
IGnister. Such was the Ministry; the Court was obtrusively dis-
reputable. In England, on the contrary, the Court was obtrusively
lespectable, and if only respectability implied capacity we might
expect to find that Qeorge the Third was served by a strong Cabinet.
But when we have examined the composition of the British Ministry
we must conclude that it is possible to be respectable and at the same
time rather stupid.
The Chancellor was Lord Apsley. He had been one of three
weak Commissioners of the Great Seal, and was known to be the
weakest of the three. He is better known as Lord Bathuist, to
which earldom he succeeded in 1775. He built Apsley Hou^. Little
else is known of him. The Attomey-Gtoneral was Edward, after-
wards Lord Thurlow, the man of whom Fox said * No man ever was
80 wise as Thurlow looks.' The Solidtor-Oeneral was Alexander
Wedderbum, the original of Sir Pertinax MacSycophant. The most
mteresting things known of him are that he defended Lord dive,
and tiiat, as Lord Chancellor Loughborough, he gave the first recorded
legal decision in favour of the policy of employing convicts on public
works. It is given in two lines, and signed ' L.' on the back of a de-
q^atch from Sir Gilbert Elliot, afterwards first Earl of Minto, and at
the time Viceroy of Corsica. Horace Walpole said of him that he
was ^ a thorough knave.' He became Earl of Bosslyn and received
a posthumous testimonial from King George the Third which is worth
recording. He died suddenly one night, and on the following morn-
ing the Lord in Waiting informed the King of the event. * Are you
sore of that ? ' his Majesty inquired. ^ Quite sure. Sir.' * The Earl
of Bosslyn was at my aftcumoon party yesterday ; I spoke to him on
the terrace.' ^He left your Majesty's party, and in the night he
was struck with apoplexy and expired at two o'clock this morning.'
^ There is no doubt that he is dead!' ' None whatever, Sir I ' ^Then,'
ccmduded the King, ^ in aU my dominion he hath not left a greater
rascal behind him.' When the King, the anti-monarchical Walpole,
and the artist who drew Sir Pertinax MacSycophant agree at intervals
over a long space of years as to a man's character, we may perhaps
take their consensus of opinion as conclusive. Of Lord George
Germame ^ one good thing is known, and may well be recorded. He
empbyed Benjamin Thompson — better, perhaps, known by his
burlesque title of Count Bumford— as Under-Secretary of State.
> Privy Seal.
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166 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Jxdy
The wont things that we know of him are that he was guilty of
cowardice at Minden, and that his neglect of dnij brought about
the surrender of Burgoyne at Saratoga. Horace Walpole said of him
that he was of desperate ambition and character. It may be so ;
perhaps by now we may be satisfied with recording that he was
indolent, ignorant, and insolent. Lord (jk>wer, the Lord President,
according to the same authority, was *a villain capable of any
crime'; Lord North, the Premier, *a pliant tool'; and Lord
Barrington ^remained to lie officially.' Lord Barrington was
Secrettury at War.
It was the duty of St. Paul to conduct the business of England,
governed by such a Cabinet, at the Court of France, governed by
the Cabinet that we have considered.
Intelligence and stupidity talk different languagues ; neither will
ever understand the other. In this case we have a highly intelli-
gent man serving the British Cabinet, and dealing with the French
Cabinet. It would, perhaps, be of interest to know what was the
diplomatic business of England at this date. It need hardly be
said that it was entirely different from the business of to-day. We
shall scarcely do better than study an autograph memorandum by
St. Paul on the Corps Diplomatique at Paris, drawn up at the
time when he took over charge from Blaquidre. It runs as
follows :
GautionB ; and no sort of confidence whatever.
Creatz (Sweden) >
M. de Sooza (Portugal)
La None (Oologne)
Goltz (Prasda)
Sandoz (Pnusian Secretary) j
Oomte d'Eyok — ^rather caatious.
Gomte d'Argental (Parma) — well informed.
Capnro (Genoa) — ^well-informed of Oorsioan afiGBurs.
Ckmite Mercy Argentean (Imperial) — ^best informed of any of the Foreign
Ministers.
Marquis Oarraccioli— not ill-informed.
The Dnich Ambassador is, and the Sardinian Ambassador ought to be, eon-
fidentiaL
Such was the personnel with whom St. Paul dealt ; we may be
sure that he omitted nobody of importance. Hence we may conclude
that the Russian Ambassador had not to be considered. Prince
Bariatinsky represented a growing power, but a power, oddly enough,
protected by England, and intensely distrusted and feared by France.
Sweden, on the other hand (not the Sweden of to-day whose
throne an English Princess will, in the course of nature, occupy,
but) — the Sweden with memories of Charles the Twelfth behind it,
and bitter hatred of Russia inspiring its policy — ^was the intimate ally
of France. The Swedish alliance had been part of the policy of
Choiseul. It was perpetuated under the Due d'Aiguillon, and cemented
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1906 COUNT ST. PAUL IN PABIS 167
by the militaiy levolntion in Sweden that was the only triumph of
D'Aignillon's IGnistiy. Why was not Madame da Bairi opposed
to this, seeing that it smacked of Choiseol ? Because the able and
eneigetic monarch of Sweden sought the real power of France when
he visited Paris in 1771. Not the King, not the Cabinet ; for the
moment even not Madame du Barri, but Madame du Barries dog
was the real source of power. Madame du Barri's dog was presented
with a oollar of diamonds, and the thing was done.
Over and over again St. Paul had to convey to the Due d'Aiguillon
the determination of the British Cabinet to send a fleet to the Baltic
to support Russia if France sent her fleet there to support Sweden.
But, to continue St. Paul's memorandum, after drawing up the list
that we have considered, he proceeds to draw up an abstract of his
more urgent duties in Paris. It runs as follows :
/India Bffain,
Seaports — Brest, Toulon, Boohefort, Port
rOrient, St. Malo, Ac.
Objects o! partionlar attention J State of the Navy.
I Everything relating to Prussia.
To follow closely the state of coldness between
. the Austrian and French Courts.
This list of subjects does not reveal so great a disparit7 between
then and now, as the list of the personnel of the embassies. When we
lead that St. Paul had dealings with a minister of Cologne, of Parma,
and of Gtonoa, we realise that he dwelt in a diflerent world from ours.
But now, as then, a controlling factor of European politics is the
relation between France and (Germany. Now, as then, naval affairs
are of the first interest. It is remarkable that Sandwich should
have been First Lord for no less than eleven years — 1771 to 1782.
He was a great friend of St. Paul's, but as a public character he had
every fault of which an official can be guilty. His views on patron-
age, for example, were those of the mythical chief justice of Ireland
who said to a historic— or perhaps mythical — Lord Chancellor of
Ireland, ^My dear Lord Chancellor, I don't mind telling you that
ccBteris paribus — cceteris paribusy mind you — ^I prefer my own relations.'
« My dear Chief Justice, ccsteris paribus be damned.'
As one result of these not unamiable views, the Duke of Richmond
could say with justice at a crisis of the nation's fate, * Everything
is at sear-except the fleet.'
We note, however, that even more important than the Navy
was India. * India affairs ' came first in St. Paul's list of * objecte
of particular attention.' In the year 1772 the Treaty of Paris was
nine years old ; that is, a little older than the ificident of Fashoda
to-day. The execution of Lally was an event of but six years before.
Everybody remembered it, and remembered it with anger and
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168 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY July
humiliation. France was determined to win back, if possible, what
BuBsy had so nearly achieved and Lally had destroyed — ^the Fienoh
Empire of India. The same treaty which recorded the expulsion
of France from India recorded also her expulsion from Canada.
But, strangely enough, France did not particularly resent the down-
fall of her authority in North America. Or, perhaps, realising that
she must not dissipate her forces, she decided on recovering India,
and reconciling herself to the loss of Canada. This resolve —
Choiseul's — ^is curiously marked in two ways. At the Record Office
we may read schemes drafted in Choiseul's office, and allowed to
escape to England. They all turned on the burning anxiety of France
to recover Canada ; there is not a word about India. At the same
time there really was a question at issue between the two countries
— ^the question of the value of certain Canadian securities, in respect
of which it was possible, and even easy, to make out a case against
England. Nobody in either London or Paris took the sUghtest
interest in the imfortunate bondholders except St. Paul, who de-
termined to settle it. In compassing this end he had to face no
enmity, no bad feeling, no bitterness, nothing but sloth and indiffer-
ence, and boredom unutterable. Undoubtedly these are the greatest
obstacles to the transaction of business; but in recording them
here I mean that there was no attempt on the part of the French to
exaggerate what was really, in a measure, a grievance. There was
no attempt to concentrate attention on Canada, as might have been
expected if anybody had taken an interest in the country; if — as
we should say nowadays — there had been any 'political capital'
in the question. The matter in dispute had dragged on for nine
years when St. Paul took it up. There were long memoranda on
the subject dated from * Tom*s Coffee House,' probably the old house
inmiediately opposite the Admiralty. It was here that the bond-
holders were accustomed to meet. The sum at stake was 54,000
francs only ; but we need not enlarge on the amount of correspond-
ence that can be made out of a question of 54,000 francs in nine years.
Having arrived at that figure, St. Paul retained it in his mind and
remembered nothing else. When the question was raised he would
listen as long as necessary, but had nothing to say in reply except,
'France owes England 54,000 francs.' He seems to have antici-
pated DisraeU's rule. for transacting business of a certain kind. 'I
never contradicted, but I sometimes repeated myself.' In six months
the thing was settled ; the Due d' Aiguillon observing that he thought
the Controller-General's objection weU founded, but that it gave
him pleasure to oblige St. Paul.
All business was transacted with D' Aiguillon ; the Eang never
interfering except over matters affecting his personal ease.
Madame du Barri settled most promotions in the Church and the
services, and Monteynard, the Minister of War, who objected to
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1906 OOTJNT ST. PAUL IN PABIS 169
some of them, was made to feel the weight of her displeasuie. The
King had some regard for himii but ended hj saying, ^ Monteynard
will have to go ; nobody stands up for him but me.' Only the King I
that was all. There were, however, limits to the powers of the da
Bam. She was, it need hardly be said, a fall-blown rose, and roaged
np to her eyelids. Presamably the beaatifal Rose du Barri porcelain
commemorates this attractive if reprehensible habit. For, sarely
Ae best so-called Da Barri porcelain belongs to the period of the
Seven Tears' War, and woold therefore more correctly be called
Rose Pompadoar. However, to return to ^ the Lady,' as St. Paul
always called her. She set the fashion of rouging. But the Duchess
de filvemois was a pale beauty. Her husband, Louis Jules de Barbon
Mancini Maearini, Due de Nivemois, great-nephew of Mazaiin, had
been French Ambassador in Rome. When his diplomatic career came
to an end with the Treaty of Paris he returned to Court, where the
Dacheas appeared, a pale spectre among so many florid beauties.
The question now arose, Ought the duchess to be ordered to rouge ?
Aitthority was of opinion that she ought. But the duchess derided
authority. They held a council on ^e question ; one appreciates,
even at this distance of time, the gravity of the situation. For, in
the event of the duchess remaining obdurate, the duke would have
to be exiled. Finally> it was resolved that, in consideration of the
duke's services 'aupr^s du Saint-Sidge,' the duchess should be
excused from rouging. It was a crisis.
'Show me your friends and I will tell you what you are.' St.
Paol's chief friends in Paris were the Beauvaus, tiie Nivemois,
Madame du DeSand, and the Due de Guinea. The Due de Nivemois
was of all men living the one whose manner and breeding were selected
by Lord Chesterfield as perfect models. The Marquise du Defland
held, perhaps, the most famous saUm in history, and the Due de
Quines was the last expression of French gallantry and charm. His
' case ' occupied a great deal of the public attention of Paris at this
time. It was got up against him by his private secretary, a
man named ' Tort,' and very appropriately so named. Guinea was
duurged with 'finance louche' in connection with secrets of the
Embassy. To show how perennial is the stock of French causes
cHibres it may interest us to recall that the backbone of Tort's charge
was that a certain cloaked ' Due Anglais ' was in the habit of calling
at Guinea' house in Paris to arrange various rascalities. To rebut
this charge Guines took the practical step of asking all the English,
lEiah, and Scotch dukes to state whether they were in Paris at the
given date. The inquiry might have been embarrassing, but it was
not. The dukes rallied loyally to the cause of the persecuted am-
bassador, and one and all stated that they had not been in Paris
when the alleged cloaked duke had been there. The memoranda
were printed and preserved with the rest of the evidence, and are
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160 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT July
in the library at Ewart, the St. Paul seat, to this day. So Guinea
came off with flying colours and was made a duke himself, by way of
consolation for his persecution.
Another ^case' with which St. Paul was much concerned was
that of Lord Massereene. Qotworthy, second Earl of Massereene,
was sued for money which he did not owe, but was condemned to
pay. He refused, and was thrown into the Bastille. He remained
in various French prisons for eleven years from the age of twenty-
eight. He was very wealthy, and lived magnificently in gad, giving
fine parties, and making spirited attempts to escape. He might,
at any moment, have paid the trifling sum for which he had been
sued, but he refused to pay what he did not owe, and in the end the
mob released him. There is nothing more extravagantly eccentric
in the stories of Henri Murger, or any of the other Frenchmen who
have portrayed the typical mad milord.
To retuhi to more serious matters. Diplomacy, then as always,
had to take note of the temper of the British people. It is waste of
time to emphasise a point when you know that you will not be sup-
ported. Now the temper of the British people was not hard to gauge.
It was not stirred, when the time came, by the complications in
the North American colcmies. Burke was probably right when he
said to Lord Rockingham, ^ Any remarkable highway robbery ' at
Hounslow Heath would make more conversation than all the distur-
bances of America.' The Duke of Richmond was of the same mind :
^ The good people of England,' he wrote to Burke, ' will not care
much whether America is lost or not, till they feel the effects in their
purses or their bellies.'
Whether or not there was more money in India than in Virginia
it would be hard to say. But it is certain that the * India interest '
was well known in Parliament and in the city of London. It was
concentrated, it was organised, it made itself heard, and diplomacy
had to take note of it. Consequentiy, when the Due d'Aiguillon
presented a memorandum to Lord Rochford setting forth the weak-
ness and iniquity of British rule in India, it was clear that without
the utmost circumspection we should find ourselves at issue with
France before twenty-four hours were over. The Due d'Aiguillon
went a long way towards provoking England, and used rather
disagreeable and emphatic language. By luck Lord Rochford
was the one member of the Cabinet with a head on his shoulders.
St. Paul was equally cool. Lord Rochford said in effect : ^ We all know
the Due d'Aiguillon, his courtesy and uprightness; we likewise
know well the traditional politeness of the French people in whose
name this memorandum is drafted. We are, therefore, face to face
with the conclusion that the Due d'Aiguillon means to insult
* A orioket match is the twentieth oentory equivalent of a highway robberj.
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1905 COUNT ST. PAUL IN PAEI8 161
which is impossible — or that he means to provoke us into war/
Lord RocUord then went on to pretend that the memorandum had
not reached him officially, or (as he put it) minisUriellement, and that
it was theiefoie unnecessary to notice it. He instructed St. Paul
to keep a copy of it, seal it up with Loid Rochford's reply, and add
a line from himself, saying that he was returning the memorandum
unread. St. Paul told this falsehood with admirable composure,
and afterwards reported : ' The Duo d'Aiguillon received me with
great attention and politeness, but seemed a little disconcerted,
and was so shy when I went up to speak to him that I was obUged
to propose his fixing a time to see me. ... I am persuaded ... he
was afraid I should mention the memorial ... for I could plainly
perceive he grew much at his ease when he found I came to him upon
other business.' So war was avoided, and it seems certain that
the memorial was the work of M. de Boynes, or Bourgeois de Boynes,
the Secretary of Marine, reputed to have been an inveterate schemer
against England in India.
In all our dealings with France, even down to the present day,
we ou^t not to forget that for nearly a century after the Treaty of
Utrecht England insisted on the right to destroy the fortifications
and quays of a French seaport whenever she considered that her
interests were threatened by their existence. The port, of course,
was Dunkirk. Let us suppose that by hook or by crook the French
had acquired treaty rights to interfere with the fortifications of
Folkestone or Dover. Let us suppose that a French engineer resided,
say, in the Sandgate Road, and went periodically to the harbour to
interfere with our works there. Should we ever forgive or forget
that ? When writing the Lost Possessions of England it was my
duty to go as much into this distressing business as my readers
would allow me to do ; and the history of British interference with
Dunkirk was there carried down to the year 1744. I stopped at
this date, just 400 years after Crecy, because the contrast between
1344 and 1744 seemed to strike dramatically the note of shame
that it seemed our duty to hear as well as the note of glory. In
St. Paul's day — thirty years later — the question was of almost
daily occurrence. Imagine the resentment and half smothered
anger of the French ! Tet is it not curious to find the Eling writing
that he was unwilling to make a point of honour of such a trifle ?
Then, in the name of conmion sense, to say nothing of chivalry and
courtesy, why not settle it ? Why not have made friends with JVance,
as another king has done, instead of driving her into hostihty over
sn admitted ' trifle ' ?
Among the ' vested interests ' of the eighteenth century the
' Africa House ' took a place in the city of London second only to
the ^ India House.' It need hardly be indicated that the African
interests of England in 1773 were quite unconcerned with the Cape
Vol, LVm— No. 341 M
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162 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY July
of Good Hope, which was Dutch, and had nothing to do with Egypt,
which was a peaceful vilayet of the Ottoman Empire^ or with Zanzibar,
which was an independent Sultanate. The West Coast of Africa
provided the main subject of contention between France and England.
Two provinces, that of Senegal and that of the Qambia, and the
little island of Groree were what England and France scrambled for
between 1617 and 1817. The latest settlement in St. Paul's day —
that of 1763 — ^left France in possession of the island, and England
alone on the mainland, a position which was commemorated by an
Order in Council creating the Province of Senegambia, originally
written Sene-Qambia. It was,[of course, compounded of the two worda
Senegal and Gambia. The question which came before St. Paul with
the regularity of clockwork turned on alleged breaches of treaty
relative to the right of trading with the mainland. They were all
trijSing, but with the ' Africa House ' in the beu^kground they were
sure of prompt attention.
These were the four chief points of foreign politics that occupied
the British Minister — Groree, Dunkirk, Canada, and India. There
remained minor distractions. Eerguelen was a Breton noble, whose
voyages are commemorated by the name Kerguelenland, a rainy,
dreary place, close (strangely enough) to the island of St. PauL It
became famous some years ago when Mr. Rider Haggard made it
the scene of one of his novels, and made a wicked publisher die of &
bad sore throat there ; a probable and only too thoroughly deserved
ending. Eerguelen, however, was supposed to have designs on India,
as were aU men who cleared from French ports in those days. There
remained the designs of Charles the Third of Spain on Algiers, whick
gave us anxiety, but which ended disastrously for Spain.
On the mainland of Europe the partition of Poland left England
unmoved. We acknowledged the receipt of the news in the follow-
ing terms : ' The King presumes that the three Courts are satisfied
of the justice of their respective claims, although His Majesty has not
been informed of the motives of their conduct.' Complete mental
detachment could hardly go further. The revolution in Sweden
left us unmoved except so far as it might be inconvenient to our
friends the Russians. The four years' war between Russia and Turkey
then raging roused no interest. The Due d'Aiguillon was amazed
that the threatened downfall of Turkey caused no anxiety in England.
He would have ceased wondering if he had known England a httle
better.
We have now reviewed as well as possible, within our narrow
limits of space, the business of the Embassy. Perhaps a glance at
contemporary society in Paris will be in place, with a few words,
more by way of inquiry than information, on the suspended ' Parlia-
ments.' It is to be wished that some English Franqueville would
write an account of the French pre-Revolutionary judicial system.
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1905 COUNT ST. PAUL IN PABI8 163
It was ^eiy hard to undeistand, so I ofEer no apology if these notes
aie inadequate. When St. Paul arrived in Paris the ' Parliaments '
had been recently abolished by Louis the Fifteenth ; when Louis the
Sixteenth restored them things were no better. Many things are
asked and left unanswered in these two statements. Thus, for
example, what was a Parliament ? How many Parliaments were
there ? Why were they abolished ? Why did it make no difference
when they were restored ?
There were eleven Parliaments, so (no doubt spme of us will reflect)
no wonder that France was in difficulties. But that supposes a
Ukeness to the British Parliament, and Voltaire said :' It is as absurd
for our Parliaments to compare themselves to the Parliament of
Gieat Britain as it would be for one of our Consular Agents to com-
pare himself to a Consul of Rome.' Then, if they were not like our
Parliament, what were they ? They were Courts of Justice and
weie sometime called Companies, a name as misleading as ' Parlia-
ment ' itself. They were Courts of Justice, and when they spoke in
their corporate capacity Bench and Bar appeared to haye merged
in a kind of Conmion Council* When did they speak in their cor-
poiate capacity ? The answer is that they had no business to speak
iQ their corporate capeu^ity at all ; but they were continually struggling
for the right to do so on the occasion of their discharging the duty of
registration and exercising the right of remonstrance. What was
tl» duty of registration ? It was the duty of registering the Ejng*s
Edicts, which were not valid until they had been so registered ; but
Louis the Fourteenth had stated the constitutional position accu-
rately when he said that the Parliaments had no authority except
what emanated from th^ Sovereign, and that when he made an edict
and ordered them to register it they were nothing but agents, just
as his pen was. That was sound constitutional French law.
What was the right to remonstrate 1 There was no such thing.
But the right was continually claimed, and always resented by the
Crown« The right claimed was to remonstrate with the Crown against
the registration of an Edict to which Parliament might take excep-
tion. It is clear that, when in addition to this they also claimed the
right of simultaneous remonstrance, their opposition threatened to
become a menace to the Royal will. A simultaneous expression of
disapproval by the united Bench and Bar of France would have been
serious. At this point we may venture to sum up : the Parliaments
of France were local and metropolitan Courts of Justice endeavour-
ing to grasp political power by concerted action. Now we see why
the King hated them ; now, also, we realise why it did no harm to
suppress them as engines of political agitation (for which they were
not fitted). Now, also, we see that it was possible to suppress them
as engines of pditical agitation, while retaining them for the purpose
of administering justice, because complete unanimity was never
K 2
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164 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY July
attained, and there was always an abundant supply of capable lawyers
who were prepared to take the royal point of view, which view (as
abeady indicated) was constitutionally sound. Now, also, we see
why the measure hailed in England as Liberal and useful—viz. the
restoration of the ParUaments in 1774 by Louis the Sixteenth — was,
in &ct, retrograde, because it restored a blundering body of agitators,
and revived the fundamental confusion of judicial with political
functions.
We may say * a blundering body of agitators,' because the Parlia-
ments knew no moderation. They were deprived of their irregular
authority for four years — from 1770 to 1774 — and the correspon-
dence of Horace Walpole with the famous lawyer ^Ue de Beaumoiit
is our authority for saying that they did no good while they exercised
that self-conferred authority.
Thus ]^lie de Beaumont consulted Walpole on a speech deUvered
by the Advocate-Gteneral of a local Parliament. Walpole pointed
out that we in England should never have dared to harangue King
Charles the First in such language, even though he had no army ;
that Louis the Fifteenth had a standing army of 200,000 men ; that,
not content with defying their monarch, who could crush them with
a word, they must needs at the same time make enemies of the Church,
and the nchlesse, while they could count on no suppcnrt except from
a band of writers calling themselves philosophers, and pretending
to influence public opinion — a thing which, for the rest, did not exist.
It is hardly an exaggeration to call such people ^ blundering agitators.'
In so obscure a matter one is ratiier asking for information than
presuming to give it ; but to this attempted picture half a line from
a letter of a distinguished Englishman who was actually doing bu£d-
ness with a Parliament is instructive. The Duke of Richmond,
when trying to get his peerage of Aubigny roistered, wrote : * They
have no law but usage ; that is, what the King is pleased to leave
them.'
This was the chief — in fact, I think, the only — constitutional ques-
tion agitating the France of the period. It belongs entirely to the
past, even more than the wonderful secret diplomacy of Louis the
Fifteenth. The King had always made a point of asserting himself
in foreign afibirs. He was too indolent to assert himself effectively,
so his diplomacy at last came down to a secret Cabinet, presided over
by the Comte de BrogUe, giving the King information derived from
secret agents. Anything more embarrassing and confusing can
hardly be imagined.
St. Paul foimd the Court dull, which is not wonderful. At Com-
pidgne, for example, the King rose and lounged into Madame du
Band's apartments. At her toilet table appointments were settled
by the lady taking a sUp of paper with a name on it from underneath
a scent-bottie, or wherever it might have been placed by the person
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1905 COUNT ST. PAUL IN PABI8 166
interested, and tossing it to the King. The King pocketed the nomi-
nations, and produced them at Council, after which they were gazetted.
In the afternoon the King went a-riding ; it was dull if you were not
of the party, and still didler if you were. It did not interest a colonel
of horse to be cantering about the royal park ; and if, as generally
happened, St. Paul stayed behind, there was absolutely nothing to
do after he had seen the Due d'Aiguillon. The same routine obtained
in Paris, only there were the Beauvaus to be called on. There was
the Har^chal de Fitz-James, at that time Oovemor of Brittany ;
theie were the Niyemois. Best of all these was the salon of Madame
du DefEand, where St. Paul was always welcome, and where you
always heard good things. Like most people of quality, Madame
du De£Eand was more than a little sceptical. A high dignitary of
the Church was once telling her some sacred stories ; he said : ' We
all know that St. Denis carried his head under his arm ; but what you
have perhaps not heard. Marquise, is that he walked with it under
his arm all the way from Montmartre to St. Denis.' ' Monseigneur,'
said the Marquise, ^ I can well believe it ; in such a case U n'y a que
k premier fas qui cauie.^ St. Paul had a pretty gift of irony, and
once when the Sardinian Ambassador was assuring him, with perhaps
excessive cordiality, of the friendly feelings of Sardinia towards
England, St. Paul reported with exaggerated pomposity : ^ I did not
fail to assure his Excellency of the profound gratification with which
the King, my august master, would hear of the friendly feelings
entertained for him by his Sardinian Majesty.'
To condense a service of four years into a short compass has been
my difficult task. We now approach the end. In 1776 St. Paul
was appointed to the Stockholm Legation, and kissed hands on the
23id of October. He was unable to take up the appointment by
•reason of ^ the want of pence that vexes public men.' He had dipped
iDto his capital (and no wonder) in order to keep up the British
Embassy in proper style. If he was not to be utterly ruined in the
pubhc service he must needs have another thousand a year added to
his pay as Minister Plenipotentiary. The money was not to be had,
and this brilliant man was lost to the service of his country. This
paper may well be closed with the words with which it began:
In moments of progress the noble succeed, because things are going
Iheir way ; in moments of decadence the base succeed, for the same
reason.' Those were days when the stupid were all to the fore, with
the usual results. Let us couple with St. Paul the name of Ben-
jamin Thompson. Both men rose from nothing — Thompson from
the position of a grocer's apprentice, St. Paul from the position of
a young man who had to leave his country under a cloud. Both
men climbed rapidly to the considerable position of Counts of the
Holy Roman Empire. Both men were good soldiers; Thompson
a remarkable artillerist, St. Paul a dashing cavalry leader. Both
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166 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY July
were equally competent in diplomacy; St. Paul holding the fiist
diplomatic appointment in Europe, and Thompson being actuaUy
Regent of a kingdom.
Never was England more direfolly in need of talent — ^not even
to-day. How did she treat her brilliant sons? Thompson was
rejected witii insult, St. Paul with quiet contempt. In America
we badly wanted good leaders, dive had committed suicide in 1774 ;
the obvious men to command the troops in America were St. Paul
as Commander-in-Chief with Thompson as Chief of the Staff. But
what would tiie Horse Guards have said to employing men for no
better reason than that they were competent ? The very idea is
shocking to English tradition. Then, as now, we asked not what
is a man's capacity, but who are his people ? We verge on politics,
and we may conclude with the simple but severe reflection for England
that, when stupidity is pitted against intelligence, intelligence must
win.
Walteb Frbwen Lord
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THE BUTLER REPORT
Snt William Btttleb's Report on the dispoeal of miUtar7 stores
m Sonth Africa has been severely criticised for the fandfol levity
of its style. It would have carried more weight with sober people
if it had been less metaphorical and more official. One does not
expect allnfflons to pantaloons in putties between tiie covers of a
Parliamentary Blue-book. But, when the nation has been cheated
to the amount of several milUons sterling, the form in which the
statement is put becomes comparatively unimportant. And there
is this to be said for Sir William Butler and his less distinguished
coDeagues : they have certainly succeeded, as they might put it
themselves, in making the 'man in the street sit up. Whatever may
be the fate of departmental reports in general, theirs at least has been
read, and it has rendered the pleasant poUcy of hushing up scandals
absolutely impossible this time. In all wars t^ere is much unavoidable
waste. In South Africa waste set in with redoubled energy after the
war was over. Month after month contractors, known and unknown,
were steadily growing rich beyond the dreams of avarice at the expense
of the British taxpayer. The War Office cannot be charged with
the base Cobdenite practice of buying in the cheapest market and
selliog in the dearest. The genius who presided over the Stores
Department in South Africa reversed the process. Provisions and
forage, having been sold at the price of dirt, were bought back at
the price of gold. The ingenious gentlemen who profited by this
aiiangement are perhaps astonished at their ewn moderation. While
they were about it they might have made a Uttle more, and retired
into private life before John Bull had time to put on his boots. Lord
Deaart, I have no doubt, is perfectly right when he says that the
evidence taken before the Committee does not disclose a case for
a criminal prosecution. For my part, I would rather adopt any
tenable hypothesis than conclude that a British officer had been
guilty of fraud. But if Colonel Morgan and the other incriminated
fonctionaries are all perfectly innocent, the groimd for pubHc concern
is greater, not less. A conspiracy to cheat the nation is possible
Qiider the best system in the world: the hopeless chaos of stupid
bunding to which we are driven in the alternative is only possible
167
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168 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY July
under the woist. South Africa is, and has long been, rotten with
commercial dishonesty and all forms of speculative gambling in
real or imaginary wealth. Perhaps it was too much to expect that
the brigands who infest the country, and their accomplices at home,
would let the public off upon the flimsy pretext that all taxpayers
are not shareholders in bogus concerns. But it was hardly too much
to hope that a public department would have screened the public
instead of the contractor.
Not the least serious side of these revelations is the machinery
by which they were made. Neither to the War Office nor to
any other part of the Government is the smallest gratitude due, even
for a late repentance. Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman, who knows
the War Office, gave timely warnings, which would have saved
millions if they had been heeded. The man who forced the truth to
light, however, is the Auditor-General, an officer beyond the control
of the Executive, and responsible to Parliament alone. The Auditor-
Greneral perceived from the mere figures that the public were being
fle^^ in South Africa. He demanded vouchers from the War Office,
and, failing to get them, reported the matter to the House of
Commons. The Public Accounts Conmiittee insisted upon further
inquiry, and then at last Sir William Butler's Committee was ap-
pointed. More than a year ago Chief Justice de Yilliers, during the
trial of a civil action at Pretoria, used significant language about *' grave
irregularities ' in Colonel Morgan's department. More than two years
ago Colonel Pain drew attention to the enormous sums that certain
contractors were receiving. Last Session the Government refused
inquiry, and not until the PubUc Accoimts Committee called for Sir
William Butler's Report did that document get beyond the precincts
of the War Office. Even when it appeared, the Secretary of State
accompanied it with a hortatory and minatory preface, which would
have been better adapted to a country where the Press was under
Ministerial control. Mr. Amold-Forster was driven to veil his meaning,
if he had any, in the obscurity of a learned language, and to assert
that the case was svib judioe. Asked in the House of Commons what
these words meant, he replied, unlike Mr. Pickwick, that he had used
them in their ordinary sense. Their ordinary sense is familiar enough.
While a legal case, civil or criminal, is pending before a court of record,
to comment upon it in public, except in Parliament, is forbidden.
But whether judex means a judge or a jurjrman, it impUes a tribunal
of some kind. What is the tribunal in this instance ? Mr. Amold-
Forster would find some difficulty in translating his own mystic or
cabalistic words. The conduct of Ministers has been all of a piece
throughout. To keep back as much as they could, to tell no more
than they must, have been their positive and negative principles.
Whom are they shielding ? First of all they offered, or at least Mr.
Balfour offered for them, a Select Conmiittee. There is a good deal
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1905 THE BUTLEB BEPOBT 169
to be said for a Select Committee, despite the failure of the Com-
mittee on tiie Raid, which was due to special causes. It camiot be
packed by the Government, for it is appointed by the House of
Commons, and this is not a question of party. It has power by
statute to administer an oath, and the House itself, if not the Com-
mittee, can compel the attendance of witnesses. The chief drawbacks
aie that it comes to a close with the Session, and that neither it nor
the House which appoints it has any jurisdiction outside the United
Kingdom. But whatever may be said of it, it is at least better than
the Royal Commission which Mr. Balfour, after consulting the Cabinet,
proposed to substitute for it. A Royal Commission would in the
existing circumstances be absolutely futile and a mere farce. No
one not under the control of the Government would appear before
it, and no number of hes told to it would amount to perjury.
The Parliamentary Commission is of course a very different afEair.
It should have all the powers of the High Court, and it ought also
to have the power of granting certificates of indemnity, so that
no witness could refuse to answer a question on the plea that by
answering it he would criminate himself. Then the whole truth
wiD come out in time, as it came out at Sheffield in 1867, though
the time under present conditions will necessarily be longer. The
names of the five Conmiissioners are thoroughly satisfactory and
a guarantee of impartial thoroughness. There is not an abler judge
on the Bench than Sir Qeorgd Farwell, and Sir Francis Mowatt
represents the best traditions of the C&vil Service, to which for so
many years he belonged. If the Commission receives adequate
powers from Parliament, the whole truth will come out.
But of course Ministers cannot appoint a court to try themselves,
or escape from their immediate responsibility to the representatives
of the people. I cannot help thinking that the leaders of the Opposi-
tion made a serious mistake in pressing for further inquiry at all.
Further inquiry was the business of the Government. If they can
shift any part of the blame upon subordinates, let them do so : they
win be ready Plough. Parliament should deal with principals, and
let agents alone. What is Colonel M^gan to the House of Commons ?
To his own masters he standeth or falleth. The questions for the
House, raised fairly enough by Sir Robert Reid's motion, are why
Mr. Broddck allowed these scandals to go on, and why Mr. Amold-
Forster tried to hush them up. If members of Parliament go beyond
or behind the responsible Minister on the Treasury Bench, it is ten to
one that they get hold of the wrong man, and ten without the one
that they attack somebody who cannot defend himself. Few things
are more injurious to the pubtic service than the division of responsi-
bility. If the Secretary of State is permitted to escape, the search for
the real culprit becomes Eke the proverbial process of looking for a
needle in a bundle of hay. The Commission may tell us the names
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170 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY July
and addresses of the contractors who have found the war such remark-
ably good ' biz ' : the House of Commons has to fix the liability upon
actual, visible, tangible Ministers of the Grown. Mr. Balfour is of
course quite clever enough to take advantage of the point the Opposi-
tion gave him. ^ Vote of censure and further inquiry ? Verdict first,
and trial afterwards ? ' It may be that the country is getting a little
tired, and does not consider that these feats of mental agility belong
to the highest order even of their own class. But it certainly seems
difficult for Mr. Balfour to set a trap into which his opponents will not
walk. Even votes of censure become almost ridiculous when the first is
hung up indefinitely and the second is brought on without delay. These
manoeuvres discredit the House of Commons as a whole. Mr. Gully
was in many respects a most excellent Speaker, but it sometimes
looked as if he took a subtle pleasure in devising technical restrictions
upon debate. His successor, a Parliament man pure and simple, is
less likely to place the letter above the spirit of the standing orders.
When the House of Commons is asked to censure the Administra-
tion, the ties of party are always drawn close. I suppose it must be
so. Tet in a case of this kind they seem singularly irrelevant. Sir
William Butler's Report raises no proposition which one party affirms
and the other denies. It cannot be desirable that a Minister respon-
sible for the waste of millions, or a Minister who tries to conceal the
waste, should retain a post of honour and emolument under the Crown.
Collective responsibility in matters of public policy, such as the
financial system of Great Britain, is essential to Cabinet Government.
To shield incompetent colleagues, on the other hand, at all costs may be
chivalrous, but cannot be patriotic. The French say that there is no
necessary man. Without going that length one may suggest that
Mr. Brodrick and Mr. Amold-Forster are not necessary men. Even
Mr. Balfour has shown in the case of Mr. Wyndham that he can
part with an inconvenient colleague upon occasion.
Some natural tears he shed, but dried them soon. In this present
case there can be no question of sacrificing a subordinate. The War
Office, unlike the Treasury, may be too lofty an institution to trouble
itself about six-and-eightpence. But when it comes to millions the
Financial Secretary might mention it to his chief. Sydney Smith's
* great neighbour ' — some peer, if I remember — found, on looking into
his accounts, that his cook had been supplying the Navy with portable
soup at his expense. Such a lordly spirit of indifEerence to outgoings
may be magnificent in an individual : in a public office it deserves
another name. Even the financial society of South Africa can never
hope again for such a milch cow as the British War Office under Mr.
Brodrick. If it were not for that accursed Auditor-General they
might be millnng her still. It appears that their arrangements were
made with due regard for economy, as well as for regularity and
despatch. The stores were not even removed: they were bought
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1905 TEE BUTLEB BEPOBT 171
and sold where they stood, the difierence between the baying and the
selling price some thousands of pounds a week. It is to be feared
that the gentlemen will find gambling in futores a very tame amuse-
ment for the rest of their lives. The one man who does not seem to
appredate the serious meaning of this Report is, by a curious coin-
cidence, Prime Minister of England. I have no doubt that Mr. Wilfrid
Ward is quite prepared to justify his procedure, though he must have
been shocked by Mr. Balfour's vehement repudiation of dilatory
tactics. To ordinary minds it seems like trifling with the subject
when the head of the Government talks about the bent bayonets at
Abu Elea twenty years ago, and asks Socratic questions of Sir Henry
Oampbell-Bannerman in the hope of making him contradict himself.
In this he foiled. But if he had succeeded, he would not have done
much towards satisfying plain folk that the money of the nation had
been judiciously spent. After all, the House of Commons is not a
debating sodety, where the leader is supposed to produce the smartest
repartees, nor is the simple formula that all Governments make
mistakes sn£5cient to protect him and his colleagues from censure.
The Secretary for War at the time of Abu Elea was the present Duke
of Devonshire, and the only member of that Cabinet who still sits in
die House of Conmions, except Sir Charles Dilke, is Mr. Chamberlain.
But what then ? Nobody says that it is a Conservative principle to
let contractors plunder the public, and therefore it is quite irrelevant
to parade the past delinquencies of Liberal Administrations. Even
if there have been Secretaries for War in the past as incompetent
as Mr. Brodrick and Mr. Amold-Forster, that is no consolation
for the victims of present blundering. The whole history of the South
African War, distinguished as it was by feats of heroism
and endurance of which the nation is justly proud, has been
surrounded with an odious flavour of subterranean finance, and
if Satan's invisible world is at last displayed by the Commission,
the picture, however ugly, may be useful. Sir William Butler, whose
powers were of course extremely limited, has no doubt that more
important personages are in the background than any he was able
to discover. A full list of the fortunes made by the war is imattain-
able, for the devil cannot be called. But even a sample would serve
better purposes than idle curiosity, or even virtuous indignation.
Cui bono ? — who profited by it ? — has proved a useful question at the
outset of many an inquiry. At any rate, we shall all be glad to know that
no one wearing his Majesty's uniform was consciously engaged in
these nefarious transactions. That the Government have saved
themselves I do not doubt. The promise of a statutory Conmiission
is quite a sufficient excuse for any ministerialist who wants to go
into his own lobby and follow lus own Whips. For that the Govern-
ment may thank the Opposition. Few indeed would have dared
to vote that everything is satisfactory as it stands. But an excuse
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172 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY July 1906
is not a necessaiy justification, and how can efficiency in high quarters
€ver be expected if no Minister is punished by the loss of office for
such a flagrant and scandalous job as this ? It will not do to make
a scapegoat of some distinguished soldier, who may have been up
to the neck in military arrangements without a moment to spare
for purchase and sale. Here, if anywhere, the War Office, with its
civilian head, must be directly responsible. Nobody expected Mr.
Brodrick, the least martial of men, to plan a campaign. But he
might have contrived to prevent the profligate squandering of
indefinite millions ; and I should be surprised to hear that his successor
was not of the same opinion.
The division in the House of Commons was a triumph for the
Government, who still have a majority of more than seventy votes
when the fiscal question is not concerned. The debate was quite
inadequate, and, considering the time that the House wastes on trifles,
might well have been adjourned. Mr. Brodrick's official apology
was undoubtedly able. But it is neither politic nor decent for Ministers
to attack Sir William Butler, who was appointed by one of themselves ;
and the Indian Secretary's contention that the country only lost
half a million by the ' dual system ' is destroyed by the statement
•of Mr. Ritchie that, when he was Chancellor of the Exchequer, the
War Office led him to expect a sum of six millions from these
transactions, which has not been realised. Mr. Brodrick's significant
hint that there are worse scandals behind than any which the Com-
mittee disclose will make more impression upon the public than
the clever speech of the Prime Minister, whose dexterity in debate
49eems to vary inversely with the soundness of the position he has to
defend.
HsBBKBT Paul.
The Ed/Uor of The Nineteenth Century cannot undertake
to rdwm v/naocepted MSS.
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THE
NINETEENTH
CENTUEY
AND AFTER
XX
XIX
No. CCCXLII— August 1905
THE NATION AND THE ARMY
THE RESPONSIBILITY OF THE INDIVIDUAL CITIZEN
I
In endeavouring to aronse the public to a sense of its responsibility
with regard to the defence of the country, many opposing forces have
to be contended with. Vested interests, obsolete prejudices, a desire
to be patriotic at some one else's expense, and a determination on the
part of the individual citizen not to put himself out or to have his
comfort interfered with, all tend to render the task somewhat hope-
less; and when we add the absolute indifference with which the
average Briton regards his individual duty to the State, it makes one
despair of ever bringing him to a sense of his own responsibility with
regard to the military needs of the Empire.
It is well-nigh impossible to make him take more than a passing
interest in matters which vitally concern the safety of the country,
though he is at all times ready to abuse the shortcomings of the
War Office, for which he is himself primarily responsible.
Vol. LVm— No. 842 N
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174 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Aug.
There is a gayinff tbat ' a oonutry has as good a Government as
it deserves/ and it seems to me that this' remark applies equally to
its Army and its WiEir Office.
If these are not up to date, the country has itself to blame and
has no sort of right to grumble. Personally I have no sympathy for
people who are always putting the blame on others, and it is for this
reason that I venture to approach the subject of our military short-
comings from a slightly different, and perhaps somewhat unusual,
point of view. As an instance of what I mean, let us take the
example of the South African War.
In the first place we must remember that the establishment of
the Army is voted annually by the House of Commons, and that it
is not within the power of the War Office to exceed the numbers
voted. Now, in 1899 the country through its representatives decided
on an establishment capable of sending two army corps and a cavalry
division abroad, say about 80,000 men, and when it was found that
350,000 — i.e. over four times as many— were wanted, surprise was
expressed that there was difficulty in providing them.
Now, whose fault was this P Clearly not the fault of the War
Office.
On the contrary, it has always seemed to me a marvel how these
men were not only raised, but equipped and fed, with the totally
inadequate machinery which the country had provided ; and far from
the military authorities being to blame, I think the greatest credit
was due to them for the way in which they rose to the occasion.
I maintain that the present state of the Army is not the fault of
this Grovemment or that, nor of this Minister or that.
It is the fault of a system acquiesced in by successive Govern-
ments, and supported by the people and their representatives in
Parliament. The secret of failure lies deeper down below the
surface. It is not the War Office but the citizen who is to blame,
because he will not make the necessary sacrifices to maintain an
Army adequate to the needs of the Empire ; and it is to him we
must look to provide the necessary driving power for that object.
In the present state of public opinion the condition of the Army
cannot be satisfactory, and I do not believe it can ever be made
efficient till the whole trend of public opinion is altered.
There was a moment just after the South African War when I
believe the country would have accepted, and gladly accepted, some
radical scheme for putting its military house in order.
It was a moment when the nation was recovering, with a sigh
of relief, from the heavy strain that had been put upon it by
undertaking a task for which it was totally unprepared, and which
at one moment had threatened its position as a first-class Power.
It was a moment when those citiaen soldiers who had come
for^'ard in the time of trial were returning in thousands to civil
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1906 THE NATION AND THE ABM7 176
life, imbued with a knowledge of the shortcomings of our system and
a sense of oar weakness as a military Power. It was then, before
the cold fit had supplanted the hot, before the inevitable reaction
had set in and the pursuit of dollars and the chase after pleasure
had once more assumed their sway, that the psychological moment
was reached.
I verily believe that at that moment the country would have
accepted a well-thought-out scheme of universal service had a
courageous Minister taken it into his confidence and told the public
the Truth, the whole Truth, and nothing but the Truth. The
enthusiasm was there, but the man to take advantage of it was not.
That moment has passed, and is unlikely to recur until another
crisis arises like that of the early days of December 1899.
God grant that we may have time to rectify our shortcomings as
we had then, and may not have to face an up-to-date and enter-
prising enemy at an hour's notice ! It makes one shudder to
think what would have happened if, instead of the Boers, we had
had to &ce the Japanese in 1899.
What would have happened at Mafeking, at Kimberley, at Lady-
smith ? Is it to be supposed that Japanese soldiers would have quietly
sat down till these places were relieved, or have waited till reinforce-
ments came fix)m England before overrunning the colony? Is it
likely that thousands of Japanese would have wasted their time
ontaide Mafeking for peven months ? and is it likely we could have
met their highly-trained and experienced warriors with our half-
trained auxiliaries ?
Now, why should the Japanese have a better army than we have ?
Our respective populations are about equal, and our resources are
infinitely greater. The reason is that the Japanese accept the
necessary sacrifices to provide an army adapted to their needs, and
tw do not. This is the situation in a nutshell. The fact is, the
country only takes a spasmodic and ephemeral interest in the Army.
An occasional scare stirs it for a time, but it soon sinks back again
into apathy and the discussion of the Fiscal Question or the
Australian cricketers, apparently oblivious of the fact that the loss
of India would raise the price of bread far beyond a two-shilling duty
on corn, and that the question of its defence is of more vital
Importance than the building of a palace for the London County
Council at a oost of 2,000,00OZ.
We are told the country Is not ripe for any system of universal
service. I believe this is so, but It does not prove the wisdom of the
feeling. The politicians are no doubt boimd to take it into con-
sideration, or their oalling would be gone ; but deep down in their
hearts they must know that something of the sort is bound to come
sooner or later, and that the only question is, will it come before or
after a disaster ?^
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176 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Aug.
It is difficult to understand the feeling which prevents the
country facing the situation &irly and squarely instead of muddling
on in the old grooves which have been long ago abandoned by every
progressive and civilised State, The sacrifice which a country
should make in return for its security and immunity from attack,
so that its business, its commerce, and its daily life may be carried
on iti safety and without risk, cannot be measured in mere money.
To strike a fair balance, the loss that would accrue did this security
not exist (and it can only be guaranteed by a strong Navy and
Army) must be put on the credit side, and should be deducted from
the Army Estimates. Who can assess the amount, from a money
point of view, which the fact of our Navy having been strong at the
time of the Fashoda incident saved this country, which would other-
wise assuredly have found itself involved in a war with France. The
saving effected by not going to war would have paid for half-a-
dozen fleets such as we had at the time. The sacrifices which we
are called upon to make, and to which the Japanese cheerfully sub-
mit, are merely the premium which we must pay for the insurance
of our Empire. The average citizen has got so into the habit of
jaking all these things as a matter of course that it never seems to
enter his head that he has any responsibility in the matter. Then,
too, there is nothing he likes so much as being lulled into security
by a succession of nostrums, each of which, I am bound to say, he
generally hails with delight until it breaks down, when he calmly
says, *I told you so.' At one moment army corps are dangled
before his eyes, only to be brushed on one side a little later in favour
of divisions, which differ from them in- little but in name. Anon it
is the reform of the War Office which fills his breast with patriotic
fervour, and which resolves itself into the same man doing the same
work in the same room, only under a different name. Anon he is
soothed with rifle clubs, which promise an easy and comfortable
way of relieving his conscience of the duty of making himself really
efficient.
All these changes amuse the public, and I sometimes think they
have no other object. The public says, * What a wonderful reform !
Now at last we are going to have a real Army ! '
This is not the opinion of Lord Roberts, who, in a truly courageous
and patriotic speech in the House of Lords on the 10th of July,
said, ' I have no hesitation in stating that our armed forces as a
body are as absolutely unfitted and unprepared for war as they were
in 1899-1900.' He goes on to say, ' What we have to aim at is to
get the people of this country to identify themselves with the Army,
and to take an intelligent interest in what the Anny may have to
do.' In a later passage he adds, * It is to the people of the country
I appeal to take up the question of the Army in a sensible, practical
Tpanpep^ For the sake of all they hold dear let them bring home to
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1905 THE NATION AND THE ABMY 177
themselves what would be the position of Great Britain if it were to
lose its wealth, its power, its position. I would ask them not to
allow the Army to be the shuttlecock of party politics, or its organi-
sation to be dependent on fanciful theories.' Such words coming
from so great an authority cannot fail to make a deep impression on
all thinking men, whatever their politics or their prejudices may be.
Then, again, there is another school of thought which it is impos-
sible to ignore when dealing with this subject, which sees, or fimcies
it sees, dangers from whkt is called Militarism. Now, I venture to
submit that there is no greater mistake than the idea that liability
to universal service has a tendency to foster an aggressive spirit
in the country. Nothing can be forther from the fact. There is
nothing which provides so strong a guarantee of peace as the
liability of every man to serve.
There is nothing so antagomstic to a spirit of Jingoism as the
feeling that those who make the wars will be the first to take part
in them. The light-hearted mafficker and music-hall hero will
think twice before supporting a policy which will put his own
precious carcase in the firing line. A professional army and a more
or less irresponsible electorate are far more likely to drift into waf
than a nation in arms, every man of which will be called on to serve
the moment hostilities conmience. Personally, I should like to see
every man capable of bearing arms serve either in the Regulars, the
Militia, Yeomanry, or Volunteers, and thus liquidate a debt he owes
to the State.
It is useless discussing details until the country has made up its
mind what sacrifices it is prepared to make for the protection of the
Empire, and it is for this reason that I venture to think our military
weakness cannot be too strongly insisted on, or, if I may use the
expression, ' rubbed in.' It is at the risk, perhaps even in the hope,
of becoming a bore that I venture therefore to call attention to facts
which most people allow to exist, but which few ascribe to the right
cause — viz. the apathy and indifference of the people themselves,
and to a disinclination on the part of the public to face the situation
£edrly. What we have to contend against is not so much a want of
patriotism as a sort of passive indifference of the average Briton to
his individual duty as a citizen of a great Empire, and a wish to
shift his responsibility on to some one else's shoulders.
Erroll.
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178 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Aug.
THE NATION AND THE ARMY
THE RESPONSIBIUTY OF THE INDIVIDUAL CITIZEN
II
Many people are deterred from supporting universal military training
because they hold that it is morally indefensible. This is surely a
most mistaken judgment, and those who are desirous of seeing the
Empire's sons at their best not only in body but in character would
do well to consider the assistance which the suggested power of
universal service would afford to this end.
Some good results in this direction seem evident, and can hardly
be gainsaid.
The general well-being must depend largely upon the healthy
condition of the body of the individual citizen. England is awaken-
ing slowly to the fact that the physical state of the people is un-
satisfEwtory. Notwithstanding the improved sanitary conditions, the
regulations as to dwellings, the honest endeavours of local authorities
to improve the surroundings of the less £Ekvoured classes, we find
from statistics, and we note with our own eyes, that the male popula-
tion is deteriorating in physique and, most people would add, in
ideal. We hear a great deal about the Japanese methods of physical
training, but we must not forget that there is the inspiration to
service of the country as the great origin of all the exercises
in which the young Eastern is glad to excel. It is not too
much to suggest that the two things must be combined, and who
will say that the average Englishman is as active in ready,
self-sacrificing, intelligent patriotism as he should be ? How often
do we have the responsibility of the citizen of such an Empire as
ours put before our youth ? The idea that, as regards duty to
the State, no man can live to himself or for himself alone, has not
reached the centre, the heart of young Englishmen of to-day. A
weedy, narrow-chested, stunted physique is not good soil for high
ideals. If anyone suggests that the power to defend one's country
in time of stress is only a part of citizenship, the reply would be
that the same training which makes a man ready and able to be
self-sacrificing in that respect equips him also for service in * the
piping times of peace.' Conditions now happily disappearing have
forced some classes in our country to dwell almost exclusively upon
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1906 THE NATION AND THE ABMY 179
their own rights, and a selfishness, very pardonable bat not desirable,
has been engendered. ' What does he know of England, who only
England knows ? ' is the expression of a great truth, but some would
emphasise this and say, ' What does he know of empire, who only
slum-life knows ? ' We shall find readiness to serve country grow
with a better realisation of the benefits of belonging to our land.
The feeling that he is under discipline for England will make a
man love her better, and he will by service understand his share
in the Empire's rights and responsibilities. All this is helped by
systematic physical training, and if the future generation of husbands
and Others are in every sense more mcmly, their children will reap
the benefit and a grander outlook will be that of the days to come.
Patriotism is to be gauged not by shouting blatant songs in London
music-halls whilst our brothers die in some distant land, nor by
mafficking in the streets on great occasions, but by response to the
call for disciplined service. The Volunteer giving up his holiday to
be of use to his country is an example of the spirit which should
belong to every citizen. His well-set-up body is an index of a
generally wholesome condition. It should be the delight of all to
bear their part in this kind of citizenship, and they will reap a rich
reward in their own nature for th^ efibrt they make. The dwindling
of patriotic feeling is the germ of many social diseases. Morality
dies if the lower self is the first consideration.
Another matter which is of some importance is that this universal
training of the young will provide them with a game which has
a useful object. Even if it be apocryphal that the Duke of Wellington
said the battle of Waterloo was won on the playing-fields of Eton,
there is nevertheless an important truth in such a statement.
Games make disciplined characters; they teach obedience; they
develop commanders. But when in addition you have the fieu^t that
the game is one which is a constant reminder of the classic state-
ment, * Thou wast not begotten for thine own, but for thy countr/s
good,' it does encourage the players. There is additional zest in
making the body fit, the eye accurate, the general development as
perfect as possible. As regards the statement that this compulsory
training will breed a warlike spirit in the young men of England,
there is absolutely no warrant from experience for such a suggestion.
Those who saw something of the Q-erman soldiers in 1870 on their
way to the great struggle with France were struck with their
simplicity and disciplined obedience. There was no boasting, no
eagerness. Nor is it different in the East. No one would accuse the
Japanese of war fever. The attitude of the man trained in military
methods is general ly summed up in acceptance of the advice of Polonius :
* Beware
Of entrance to a quarrel ; but, being in,
Bear't that the opposer may beware of thee.*
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180 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Aug.
It might, perhaps, more fiedrly be argued that the tendency oi
training is to make for Peace. The sense of responsibility grows ;
the knowledge of war's awfulness is greater ; it is only the ignorant,
the undisciplined who cry out for strife. Conscious strength is
rarely quarrelsome. The moral position is weaker of those who
deny the duty of the citizen to take part in supplying all the needs
of the State than that even of those who lay too much stress oh
some one part of that which may be required by the commonwealth.
The passage from the last consideration to the suggestion that
universal service cultivates certain good habits of life is easy. Self-
denial is the necessity of our day. Preachers are telling us that love
of luxury is the curse of the times in which we are living. Ease
leads to laziness. There is a desire to get quickly, and then to
spend what has been acquired on the latest labour-saving/ and
pleasure-procuring inventions. Loafers are numerous, not in one,
but in every class. An amount of wasted life is lying around in all
directions, only because there has been no guidance afforded by the
State The young fellow, be he rich or poor, who has been trained
in habits of discipline will rarely revert to a useless existence. He
understands that time must not be wasted, and he exerts himself to
a right use of the life he has learnt to value. He looks about for
avenues of service, and he is an ever-active worker for his countiy's
good. Not only does he do better that which is his ordinary
occupation in life, but he brings a trained mind to the hobbies of
existence. In the West End clubs of London there are young men
of generous impulses, of infinite possibilities, who want only
opportunity and discipline. Had they been taken in hand early;
had they been taught to realise what manhood means, they would
be inspiring other lives, and their own would be fully occupied. The
&ct that the headmasters of our great public schools are so many
of them keen for the general training of the young is a proof
that those who are most responsible for England's leaders of to-
morrow understand the usefulness of such a disciplined start in life.
There are those who say that too much attention is paid to cricket
and football out of school, and to classics and mathematics in school.
The accusation is made, with very doubtful fairness, that by such
means boys are not properly equipped for the time that lies before.
No one will be prepared, however, to deny that anything which
widens the imagination, stirs the heart, disciplines the body, and
rouses the holy passion of the love of country can tail to make for
the good of the student. Cultivate such feelings, and the effect will
be seen in the daily life. There will be more reading of the records
of the best of the past ; a wider view will be taken, and the drill
which is carried out for the fitting of the body to meet all that may
be demanded of it will have its moral effect. We have been told
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1906 THE NATION AND THE ABMY 181
over and over again that the god of the day is gain, that the verse
of Omar applies at the present time :
Some for the Glories of This World ; and some
Sigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come ;
Ah, take the Cash, and let the Credit go,
Nor heed the ramble of a distant Drmn I
If there be some truth in this statement, and if the early insistence
upon training will effect improvement, there seems no objection of
Bentimentalists which can outweigh the benefit to be thereby pro-
cured. The universality of the teaching will cause the bonds of
union between Englishmen to be better realised and more highly
valaed. The fact that the whole of our male population is one in
its ability to be of use to the Empire may do much to draw together
those separated by many circumstances which cannot be got rid of,
while a truer conception of duty as citizens, exemplified by bodies
well trained for service, will be an object-lesson to other lands,
valuable as proving not only England's strength but also her high
moral conception of national responsibility.
H. Russell Wakefield.
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182 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Aug.
TUB LIBERAL UNIONIST PARTY
Thb Liberal Unionist party is dead, if not buried ; it has been
strangled by its own parent. But Mr. Chamberlain, when he
sacrificed the party at the altar of tarifE reform, only anticipated its
impending dissolution by a very short period. The Liberal Unionist
party, for all practical purposes, had ceased to exist — ^its race was
run, its work was accomplished, its raison d*Hre had ceased.
The history of the party is a splendid record of unselfishness of pur-
pose. Its object was to save the Union, and it achieved that object
and thus earned the gratitude of all who beUeve the maintenance of the
Union to be essential to the existence of the Empire. Never has our
parUamentary history recorded more unselfish patriotism. It must
have been distasteful to a man of Lord Hartington's loyal character
to separate himself from his leader and his colleagues, and to plunge
into a strenuous and bitter struggle which at one time threatened
the disruption of even social ties. Mr. Chamberlain beUeved, as
everyone else believed, that by separating himself from his party
he was sacrificing a briUiant career. Sir Henry James refused the
Woolsack, the natural object of his ambition, rather than traffic with a
vital question. And so with even the rank and file of the party. For
in those days, when separation took place, the concordat with the Con-
servative party had not been concluded, and it is certain that if a
generous poHcy had not been adopted by the Conservatives at the
general election of 1886 the Liberal Unionists, with the exception of
Mr. Chamberlain and one or two others, would have been swept out
of parliamentary existence.
Wise and sagacious men prophesied that the Liberal Unionist
party could not lead the independent existence which it sketched for
itself, and that sooner or later it must gravitate towards and become
absorbed in the system of one or other of the larger bodies whose
orbit it crossed. These prophets prophesied truly, but the catastrophe
did not come to pass so soon as they expected. Many beUeved that no
Liberal Unionist would survive the general election of 1886, but the
Liberal Unionists reappeared, although in reduced numbers, in the
House of Commons of 1887, and indeed, such was the distribution
of parties, they held the balance of power, and at any moment could
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1906 THE LIBERAL UNIONIST PARTY 188
have ejected the Conaervative Government from office. Thus, for-
tunately for the country and for the Conservative party itself, they
were able to impose their own policy upon the Oovemment. That
policy was defined by Mr. Chamberlain to be 'to continue on the
lines of Liberalism, and, while steadily maintaining the Empire in
all its fulness and completeness, at the same time to seek out and
remedy any proved grievances on the part of the Irish people.'
Repeatedly and emphatically was it protested that the Liberal
Unionists remained faithful to the creed of the Liberal party, and
that they separated themselves on the question of Lreland only, and
that as regards beland the policy they advocated was a generous
and conciliatory policy.
During 188&-1892 the Liberal Unionists were cruelly tried, for in
spite of themselves they became identified with coercion. Coercion
was hateful to them, not merely for the reasons which make it dis-
tasteful to every wise and generous statesman even when it is a
necessity, but because they had always contended that coercion was
not the only alternative to Home Rule, and consequently they were
stultified by its adoption. It was the policy of the Nationalist party
to place the Liberal Unionists on the horns of this dilenmia. Their
avowed object was to make the government of Ireland from West-
minster an impossibility, and accordingly they waged war d outrance
upon the Unionist Government, and had recourse to every device
which ingenuity could invent to discredit the Gk>vemment and to
make coercion stink in the nostrils of the British public. It was
the fashion to sneer at and ridicule some of the ways and means
employed, but the Nationalist leaders knew what they were about,
and they fully appreciated and played upon the emotional nature of
the * man in the street.' They fought the battle with skill and courage,
if^not with temper, and they found — as the enemies of the Union at
this day find — valuable allies in some of the landlords of Ireland.
Indeed, the great tactical mistake they made was that, with more
courage than discretion, they assailed good and powerful landlords
like Mr. Smith-Barry and Lord Lansdowne, instead of confining their
operations, at any rate in the first instance, to the estates of those
landlords whose treatment of their tenants could not be defended by
any sane Unionist.
In these circumstances the Liberal Unionist party was compelled
silently to endure and grudgingly to acquiesce in Mr. Balfour's stem
and unfiinohing enforcement of the law. Fortunate it was for the
Unionist party that in this hour of storm and stress the man was at
hand. For so skilful and daring were the attempts of the Nationalists
to make the government of Ireland, with or without coercion, an
impossibility that only an administrator so courageous and imperturb-
able, so indifferent to abuse and misrepresentation, and so fully
convinced of the justice of his cause, could have emerged victorious
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ft
from the relentless struggle. Almost alone Mr. Balfour fought the
battle, and there were many in the poUtical party at his back who
entertained grave doubts and misgivings, if not as to the justice,
at least as to the probable success of his poUcy. Let the reader turn
over the pages of Hansard of those dajrs, and he will realise how often
Mr. Balfour had to fight single-handed in those bitter encounters.
Few Unionists remember, if they ever realised, how nearly the
battle was lost. Gradually, but certainly, the British people tired of
coercion, and were sickened by the squahd incidents which attended
its course. By-election after by-election told the same story, and
the majority of the Grovemment sank from 118 in 1886 to 70 four years
later. It was evident beyond doubt that when the question was
again referred to the collective electorate their decision would be that
Home Bule, or anything, was preferable to this everlasting coercion.
For us who beUeved that the maintenance of the Union was essential
to the prosperity of Ireland, and to the safety of the Empire, the
prospect was indeed most gloomy. But when everything looked
darkest the Union was saved by an accident — swift, dramatic, and
pathetic. There were few who did not sympathise with that remarkable
man — much as they might deplore his errors — who dauntlessly stood
at bay in Committee Boom No. 15, fighting with his back to the wall
for the leadership of the party which he had created and which owed
to him its Uf e and being. We in Ireland held our breath as we watched
the progress of that struggle, for we fully realised that if a compromise
were effected, and if, for instance, Mr. Pamell were induced only
nominally to retire, even for a few months, the Union would be again
in danger.
But in the meantime Mr! Balfour, who was too far-sighted and
ambitious a statesman to be content with the poUcy of coercion as
the end of all things, so soon as he found that the ground was clear
of disorder, and that the foundation of law was again firmly laid,
put his hand to the more congenial duty of redressing the grievances
and remedying the evils which were responsible for the dangers which
he had so courageously combated and so skilfully overcome. Right
glad must have been the Liberal Unionists when at last there dawned
the day of that remedial legislation which they had so long and at
times so despairingly advocated.
It was not until 1890 that Mr. Balfour found that he could safely
open the door of conciliation, and then only very gradually and
cautiously The landlord party, or rather the party of ascendancy,
were, as now, bitterly opposed to any concession. Obstinately
devoted to the poKcy of coercion, they exulted over the courage and
determination of the Chief Secretary so long as his poUcy and
administration coincided with their hallowed creed and beUef . But
when Mr. Balfour, having successfully finished his distasteful task,
turned his attention to the ^wretched, rotten, sickening policy of
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1906 THE LIBERAL UNIONIST PARTY 186
condUation,' ^ the plaudits which had never failed loudly to greet
each drastic step in coercion were hushed into murmurs of surprise
and difflooay, and the party of ascendancy began to fear that the god
whom they had worsMpped so fervently possessed, after all, mere feet
of clay. Fortunately for Mr. Balfour's popularity, party exigencies
necessitated his transfer from Ireland, where he had won his spurs —
for it was in Ireland that he first displayed the rare quality of pluck
and imperturbability which the British public admire more than
any other virtue, intellectual or physical. The events of 1886-1893
have, however, passed out of mind, and I do not think that the British
public appreciate Mr. Balfour as well as they did in those stirring
days. They have forgotten that under that superficial appearance
of apathy and indifierence there lurks an intrepid spirit which, when
galvanised into life by some national crisis, would spring into prompt
and dauntless action. This change of opinion no doubt is due to the
evasive tactics which Mr. Balfour has been recently obliged to employ
in order to save his party from disruption — ^tactics which his most
infatuated disciple cannot claim to be &ank or bold.
The promotion of Mr. Balfour did not take place until he had
given evidence that he was a sympathetic statesman and not merely
a stem and able administrator. This evidence is to be found in the
Light Railways Act of 1889, which had for its object the development
of the congested districts of the west of Ireland by placing the fisheries
of those remote districts in railway communication with possible
markets and opening out a beautiful country to the tourist traffic.
His chief work, however, was the Land Purchase Act of 1890.
Sufficient justice is not done to this legislation because the difficulties
which had to be overcome are forgotten, if, indeed, they were ever
folly appreciated. When I compare Mr. Wyndham's feat, performed
with so much eloquence, tact, and skill, in 1902 with the task accom-
plished by Mr. Balfour in 1893, the contrast is as remarkable as it is
encouraging. Comparatively speaking, the passage of Mr. Wyndham^s
Bin was that of a knife through butter. There was practically no
opposition, and the third reading of the BiU was a chorus of admiration
and congratulation. All sides. Liberal and Nationalist and Unionist,
were agreed that the question should be settled at any price, and the
British taxpayer was ignored, if not forgotten. How different was
the reception of Mr. Balfour's Bill ! Bitterly opposed both by Liberals
and Nationalists, it was practically dropped after the first reading.
But the feeling in Ireland was too strong for the Irish parliamenta^
party. The tenant farmers of Ireland realised the advantages of the
BiU, and refused to be sacrificed to the exigencies of political warfare.
Accordingly the Bill was again introduced, under more propitious
aiffipices, and eventually, in spite of the opposition of the Liberal
party and the passive resistance of the Nationalists, it passed into
' See Mi. Koore's speech in the House of Ck>inmon8 on the 20th of February, 1905.
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186 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Aug.
law, bristling with safegaardfl and precautions imposed in the interests
of the British taxpayer — all of which were swept away as so much
rubbish a few years later by Mr. G(erald Balfour's Land Purchase Act.
The creation and endowment of the Congested Districts Board
which was provided for in this Act was the great feat of Mr. Balfour's
administration. It was, as he stated, ^ the first organised legislative
attempt to deal with the most difficult and anxious problem.' One
of its principal merits, and the chief cause of the conspicuous success
which has attended its operation, was the association of Unionists and
NationaUsts in a great national work. The humanity of Mr. Balfour's
administration was also justified by the wise and vigorous measures
adopted for the reUef of distress in the famine of 1890-91. Never
before had reUef been given so efiEectually and scientifically, and the
principles adopted and the organisation £ramed remain a model to be
followed in any similar disaster which may threaten Ireland.
The Local Gk>vemment Bill, introduced in 1892 by Mr. Balfour
after he had relinquished the office of Chief Secretary, was the least
statesmanlike of his constructive legislation. It was framed on the
lines laid down by Lord Randolph Churchill, * similarity and
simidtaneity ' in Irish and English legislation. The spirit in which
it was conceived was excellent, but tiie measure itself was marred
and spoilt, as every measure must be marred and spoilt which is
pervaded by the fatal delusion that what is suited to Great Britain
must also be suited to Ireland. So long as English statesmen are
wedded to that Procrustean policy) so long as they ignore the radical
difference of conditions in the two countries, so long will Ireland be
badly administered and consequently discontented. Again, in the
supposed interests of the landlords almost ridicidous safeguards were
imposed. The Bill was read the first time by a large majority, but
it was immediately dropped, to the regret of no one, Nationalist or
Unionist. As the Times remarked, ' To attempt legislation ' on this
subject * was to court danger.'
Before resigning his office as Chief Secretary Mr. Balfour had the
privilege of withdrawing the proclamations under the Crimes Act
from nearly all the proclaimed counties. His successor, Mr. W. L.
Jackson, was only a few months in office, for the storm which had
been so long gathering at last burst, and the Unionist Government
were expelled from office by the general election of 1892, and con-
sequently that genial administrator, who woidd have rejoiced in any
opportunity of developing the resources and industries of Ireland,
had to content himself with maintaining order and generally administer-
ing the country on the lines laid down by his predecessor.
I need not review the history of tie Gladstonian (Jovemment
which followed, but the elector ought to note for future guidance
that, being dependent on the Irish vote, it was obliged to /go the
whole hog ' in Irish legislation, and consequently session after session
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1906 THE LIBERAL UNIONIST PABTT 187
found the Gk)vemment laboriously but fruitlessly plougliing the sands
of Home Rule, and eventually the case against the House of Lords,
when submitted to the electorate, had mainly to rest upon the opposition
to Home Rule, and not on the fact that the House of Lords — ^that nest
of privilege — had ceased to represent any but the Conservative party,
and consequently was an insurmountable barrier to real reform and
progress.
Then followed the coalition Government of 1895, and with it the
disappearance of the Liberal Unionist party. The flag, indeed, con-
tinued to fly and the organisation was maintained, but when the
Liberal Unionist leaders, who had formerly indignantly repudiated
any such intention, at last crossed the Rubicon — that is to say, the
floor of the House — and coalesced with the Conservatives its raison
tetre as an independent party ceased to exist. It is true that the
Liberal Unionist leaders renewed their oaths of fideUty to the Liberal
creed and continued to advocate a generous and concihatory policy
towards Ireland. Notwithstanding the resistance and bitter protest
of the Extremists, English and Irish, they succeeded for a certain
time ia forcing their policy on their allies, whom, if they did not educate
and convert, they at least coerced into acquiescence.
Mr. Gerald Balfour became Chief Secretary for Ireland, and his
declaration on asauming office of a conciliatory and generous policy
gave general satis&ction. It was, he said, the poUcy of the Govern-
ment, *to remedy every grievance from which any section of the
Irish people can legitimately be said to suffer.' The conditions for
gQoh a pohcy were most favourable. Ireland, for once, was quiet
and comparatively free from agrarian and political crime, and the
ground was clear and ready for amehorative measures. Mr. Gerald
Balfour held in his hand a clean slate.
His proposed policy was thoroughly congenial to Liberal Unionists,
or at least to those Liberal Unionists who had not been converted
by the Extremists, and earnestly and honestly did the new Chief
Secretary try to translate his words into deeds. The Statute Book
records the results of his labours. His Land Act, his Local Gk)venmient
Act, his Agricultural and Technical Education Act, all passed within
three short years, are sufficient evidence of his industry, energy, and
oourage as a statesman. Of course they were vehemently opposed.
The Land Act, which now seems so mild a measure, was declared by
the Duke of Abercom, who spoke on behalf of the landlords of Ireland,
to be * revolutionary.' So bitter was the opposition of the Extremists,
led by Sir Edward Carson, in the House of Commons that Mr. Balfour,
on the third reading, said, ' You would suppose the Government to be
revolutionists, verging on socialism. ... I ask myself whether they
are mad, or I am mad. I am quite sure one of us must be mad.'
The Local Government Bill which gave the Coimty Councils control
ov» Toadfi and lunatics was assailed with equal hostiUty. Lord
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188 THE iflNETEENTH CENTURY Aug.
Londonderry declared that * the Loyalists view it with apprehension
and dismay.' As usual, terrible consequences were predicted, but,
needless to say, none of these prophecies have been realised, and the
County Councils have worked with efficiency and intelligence within
the very limited sphere marked out for them. But the most heinous
of Mr. Gerald Balfour's crimes was his deference to Irish ideas in
framing the Agricultural and Technical Education Act. This Act
was the outcome of the deUberations of the Recess Conmiittee, a
round-table conference of Irish politicians, Unionist and Nationalist,
convened by Sir Horace Plunkett, and it undoubtedly contains the
germs of great industrial progress and development.
In all this legislation Mr. Balfour gave effect to the true and
original policy of the Unionist party, and consequently he incurred,
as Mr. Wyndham subsequently incurred, the bitter hostility — ^and
there is no hostility more relentless — of the Unionist Extremists.
The poUcy of 'Balfourian amelioration,' as it was contemptuously
called, was widely denounced, and an opportunity was taken at the
general election of 1900 to bring the Government to its senses. The
Times, accepting a noisy and intolerant section as representative of
the great mass of Unionists in Ireland, expressed the opinion that the
Chief Secretary, by his poUoy, * had driven the loyal portion of the
Irish people to revolt.' The scapegoat was found in Sir Horace
Plunkett, whose chief offence is that, although he never forgets that he
is a Unionist, he always remembers that he is an Irishman, and it was
determined to oust him from his seat in South Dublin and to hand
over that important constituency to the Nationalists pour encourager
the Government. The head and front of Sir Horace Plunkett's
offence was that he had consorted with Nationalists when engaged
in his scheme of developing the industries of Ireland, and that he had
actually given office to a Nationalist in his new department. English-
men must always bear in mind that the pohcy of the Extremists^of
both parties is to keep open an impassable gulf between Nationalists
and Unionists. There must be no contact, no interchange of ideas,
no attempts at persuasion ; internecine quarrels are essential. There is
method in this madness, for the Extremists on both sides realise that
if there were friendly meetings and discussions between members of
the two parties a moderate policy would arise triimiphant out of
the ashes of the sterile quarrels of the past.
The Government were frightened by this revolt. The ascendancy
party were well represented in and out of the Cabinet, and consequently
it was decided, after the general election of 1900, to satisfy the wolves
by throwing to them Mr. Gerald Balfour. That able administrator —
who has been so unjustly attacked and so unduly depreciated — was
transferred to the Board of Trade, and Mr. George Wyndham, who
had been Mr. Balfour's private secretary in the good old days of
coercion, succeeded to the Irish office, while the principal assailants
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1906 THE LIBERAL UNIONIST PARTY 189
of their Irish policy were taken into the Grovemment — ^Lord London-
derry, of whom the Times wrote that his hostility to his Government
' had grown into something like revolt,' and Sir Edward Carson, who
had been Mr. Grerald Balfour's most strenuous critic. Both were
known to be honourable and straightforward men, and consequently
their appointment was generally accepted as evidence of repentance
and as a pledge of amendment on the part of the Government. High
were the hopes of the extreme Unionists, and their expectations
seemed to be justified. For a time all went merry as a marriage bell.
Oukages — and the reader must remember that in the technical
language of Dublin Oastle an intimidatory letter is an outrage —
opportunely multiplied, and Mr. Wyndham seemed to throw himself
into the game of Coercion with zest and courage. Evidently the
mantle of Elijah had fallen upon worthy shoulders. 0 faliacem
hominum spem I At the very moment when the sun shone brightest
in an unclouded sky there shot a bolt from the blue. Mr. Wyndham
M into apostasy, abruptly, unexpectedly ! How or why has never
been explained, but suddenly the scales fell from his eyes, and he saw
that salvation was not to be found in Coercion only. Even in these
da}rs of quick change the transition was remarkable in its rapidity
and thoroughness. Members of Parliament were released from
prison, proclamations were withdrawn, and the Millennium — ^an Irish
Millennium — was ushered in. The policy of * Balf ourian amelioration '
was revived, to the great satisfaction of all moderate men. The truth
is that Mr. Wyndham was too wise, too sympathetic to be content
with a coercive r6]e — to remain a mere policeman. His ambition
was to live in history as the statesman who had conciliated Ireland,
maintained order, held the scales evenly, and who by impartial and
sympathetic administration had evolved order out of chaos and trans-
formed sedition into loyalty. Mr. Wyndham was too sanguine.
He did not realise the difficulties and the dangers of the task which
he had undertaken, and with characteristic impetuosity he rushed
a delicate situation, rendered all the more delicate by his previous
departure from the wise ways and methods of his predecessor. It was
at this juncture that Sir David Harrel was obliged by ill-health to
retire from the Under-Secretaryship, and Mr. Wyndham selected
as his successor an Anglo-Indian officer of the highest distinction
who had been strongly recommended to him by his colleague, Lord
Lansdowne, a former Viceroy of India. To appoint a man who had
been Governor of a large province to the comparatively subordinate
ofiBce of Under-Secretary was a new departure, and it was not im-
natural that Mr. Wyndham should smooth the way and reconcile
Sir Antony MacDonnell to the descent in the official hierarchy by
assuring him that he would be more a colleague than a subordinate —
a simple courtesy which amorous critics have distorted into a mistaken
poHcy.
Vou LVm— No. 842 O
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Mr. WyndlLain's polioj was directed to the settlem^it of the Land
and Eduoation questions, Private Bill legislation, the ref oim of Dublin
Castle by the co-oidination of detached or semi-detached boards, and
generally ^ conciliatory administration.' To give effect to this policy,
negotiations in a friendly spirit with both parties were necessary.
Mr. Wyndham — ^relying no doubt on his personal popularity with the
extreme Unionists, and failing to realise that this popularity depended
entirely on his reputation as a Coercionist — naturally thought that
he would be able to induce them to listen to reason. But how about
the Roman Oatholic hierarchy and the Nationalist leaders ? Was it
not a great advantage to have as Under-Secretary a man of great
ability and experience who, while perfectiy loyal to the Unionist
(Government, was a Roman Catholic in religion, an Trishman by birth
and education, and in sympathy with Irish ideas and aspirations t
There was no articulate objection to Sir Antony MacDonnel^s appoint-
ment, for it was generally supposed that he was merely temporarily
employed to assist in the settiement of the Land question ; but when that
question had been disposed of and Sir Antony MacDonnell still remained
in office the suspicions of the extreme Unionists were aroused. It
was all very well to utilise a man of Sir Antony's views and sympathies
in the settiement of a question w^ch would be beneficial to the land*'
lord as well as the tenant, to the Protestant as well as the Roman
Catholic, to the Unionist as weU as the NationaUst ; but to keep him
in office in order to remove the grievances from which Ulster diid not
sufEer was madness. Then began the persecution of Sir Antony
MacDonnelL It did not originate in devolution ; it long preceded the
revival of that policy. Sir Antony MacDonnell began badly. He
refused to be guided, except in legal matters, by the law officers.
^ These two officers of the King's (Government,' pathetically, and of
course unselfishly, complained Mr. W. Moore, K.C., ^were shut up
in their Law Rooms in a position very littie better than that of law
clerks ' — ^just as if they were mere ,law officers, like the Attorney-
Ceneral and Sohcitor-Oeneral for England! The hostility of the
Law Room was, I believe, the fons et origo of the agitation against
Sir Antony MacDonnell, and yet, in my opinion, it is very desirable
to go still further than Sir Antony MacDonnell when an opportunity
occurs. / Instead of beiog shut up in their rooms at the Castie, the law
officers in question should be domiciled in their Law Rooms at the Law
(Courts. Castie lawyers are able and honourable men, but they are
saturated with the traditions and steeped in all the prejudices of the
anoien regime^ and the influence which they exercise in political
matters upon the Chief Secretary or Under-Secretary fresh from Eng-
land is not always elevating. But, whatever the reason, an agitation
wasengineered against Sir Antony MacDonnell which was discreditable
and indefensible. Nothing can prove the weakness of the case against
the Under-Secretary better than the flimsy and artificial charges by
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1905 THE LIBERAL UNIONIST PABTY 191
whioh it was supported, and th6 rhetorical lags with which his assailantg
tried to conceal the nakedness of theii arguments. The attack failedi
and the extremists were in a sorry plight, when suddenly a new phase
appeared in the kaleidoscope of Irish pditics. Hitherto only the
voice of the extremist had been heard, but happily there has long
existed between the ultra-Nationalist and the ultra-Unionist a large
and increasing body of moderate men who beUeve that it ib not beyond
the wit of man to fbd a means whereby Irishmen of conflicting poUtical
views can Uve together in peace and concord. As a rule these men
are not great landlords whose principal abodes and interests are out
of Ireland, but they are men who Uve all their life in Ireland, and who
long to be at peace with their neighbours and to take their share in
the administration of local affairs. It is their very love of peace and
quiet which has kept these people silent, for they reahse that if they
dare to express their opinion they will be abused and vilified, if not
boycotted. No one who has watched the reception given to the
I^posals so inoffensively submitted by the Reform Association
can say that tiiese fears are exaggerated, and consequently these
men have been lost to sight and their very existence has been ignored,
if not unknown. Unexpectedly there arose a leader in the person
of Lord Dunraven, an Irishman, a great landlord, ,with a personaUty
that could not be cowed. Lord Dunraven realised, to quote the words
of Mr. Balfour, that * while there is a strong body of organised opinion
in the North of Ireland, belonging to the loyahst section of the com-
munity, there is, scattered over the West of Ireland, a great un-
oq;anised body of loyalist opinion, which might, if organised, do great
service to the State,' and he proceeded to consoUdate and give voice
to those scattered and silent Unionists. He quickly realised that
die settlement of the Land question was the necessary preliminary
to peace, and, in defiance of the protests of the Landlords Convention^
he and Lord Mayo and others arranged a conference of Unionist
landlords and Nationalist leaders at the Mansion House in Dublin.
That conference, contrary to the expectation and hope of the extreme
Unionists, succeeded incoming to an agreement regarding the principles
of the great measure so skilfully drafted and piloted through the
House of Commons by Mr. George Wyndham. When a few necessary
amendments have been made, the Land question which for centuries
has been at the root of Irish discontent will be finally settled, outside
of Ulster at least, and for that feat Mr. George Wyndham will Uve in
history.
At tiiis moment Lord Dunraven was a very popular man. Con-
gratulations poured in upon him from aU sides ; but when he and his
fnends, having settled the Land question, turned their attention to
the other subjects of controversy which tear^Ireland to pieces the
viab of wrath and abuse were showered upon their heads. For
animated diaeusrion, and indeed indignant protest, I for one was
o 2
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X92 THE NINETEENTH CENTUB7 Aug.
prepared ; but I was amazed to find the law officers of the (jovemment
plunge into a warfare ui which abuse took the place of argument, and
the most unworthy motives were imputed to Lord Dunraven and his
friends. After all, these gentlemen had an undoubted right to discuss
a question of pubUc interest, and they exercised this right in a courteous
and inofEensive spirit. There was nothing to justify the bitter attacks
made upon them.
The keynote — nay, the whole substance, the reiteration of which
became so tedious— of all these wild attacks was the question : ^ Who
were the true parents of the scheme ? * * What is the inception,'
cried the Attorney-General again and again, ' of the Reform movement
regarding which t^ere are so many sinister rumours ? ' The Attorney-
General and the Solicitor-General for Ireland knew — as everyone
in official Irish circles knew — that Sir Antony MacDonnell had assisted
in the preparation of the scheme. Unconsciously they exaggerated
the part he had taken and the extent of his co-operation, and, the
wish being father to the thought, they jumped to the conclusion that
he had acted secretly and disloyally to his chief. Their object was not
to prove the dangers of the scheme, but to expose the disloyalty of
their colleague. As has been aptly said, they fired at their colleague,
the Under-Secretary, but brought down their chief, the Chief Secretary.
The first, and not the least, mistake made by Mr. Wyndham in this
unhappy business was that he did not promptiiy silence his law officers
when they lost their heads.
No wonder that in these circumstances I broke silence in favour
of the views which I had so long held, and it was natural that, in order
to prove that I had consistently held these views ever since I was
qualified to form an opinion on Irish questions, I referred to and
quoted from a memorandum which I had unofficially written in 1889.
During my tenure of office as Under-Secretary I was fully in accord
with the poUcy of my chief, but the vigour of tiiie war which we waged
on behalf of law and order did not prevent my reflecting upon the
questions which lay at the bottom of Irish discontent. A Liberal
Unionist, I bore in mind Mr. Chamberlain's declaration, ^ There may
be times when it is the highest duty of the Liberal to assert the law ;
but, on the other hand, there is another duty which I regard at least
as urgent, as even more sacred, and that is to search out the cause of
disorder and where possible to remove it.' I did search. I had
gone to Dublin with an open mind free from bias, and there were
soon impressed upon it certain facts. I quickly realised that the
extreme Unionists were as dangerous to the Union as the Nationalists ;
that although the charges of incapacity, ineptitude, and dishonesty
so often thrown at the permanent officials were absolutely without
foundation, yet the system itself was defective and cumbersome ;
and that the gulf which yawned between the people and the Grovern-
ment could only be bridged by gradually associating the people, so
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1905 THE LIBERAL UNIONIST PABTY 198
far as was safe and possible, with the Gk>vemment in the administration
of their affairs.
The approval which I expressed of Lord Donraven's scheme was
confined to the programme published on the 31st of March, in which,
after emphatically protesting their fideUty to the cause of the Union,
the Reform Association advocated ^the devolution to Ireland of a
larger measure of local government than she now possessed,' the
decentralisation of Irish finance, the extension to Ireland of the
system of Private Bill legislation so successfully working in Scotland,
the settlement of the question of higher education, the better housing
of the labouring classes, and the development of the material resources
of the coantry. I was not in equal accord with the subsequent and
more detailed proposals published in the manifesto of the Association
in the following September. The proposed financial scheme I do
not consider practicable, for, apart from its inevitable conflict with
the control of the House of Commons, the complete divorce of financial
from administrative responsibilities would lead to embarrassment,
compHcation, and probably a dead-lock. There is not a department
of the Government which would not be imder the control of the
Knancial Council, for it would be in the power of that Council to
refuse the necessary funds — for instance, for the maintenance of an
adequate pohce force — and accordingly the Executive would be at its
mercy. Nor do I advocate a central legislative body in Dublin.
I prefer the evolution of Provincial Councils on the fines proposed
by Mr. Chamberlain, with an inter-provincial Council to discuss
matters of common interest. But the general principles advanced
by the Association are excellent, and in my opinion can be gradually
and safely adopted.
It has been asserted that the progranmie of the 31st of August is
practically Home Rule, and that consequently it is dangerous to the
Union. Even Mr. Wyndham tardily subscribed to this view. But in
truth the programme of the 31st of August does not materially differ
from his own programme, and it is practically the same as that which
has been always advocated by Mr. Chamberlain and other leaders of
the Liberal Unionist party.
The hospitality of this Review and the patience of the reader
would be hopelessly exhausted were I to attempt to quote the many
pronouncements made by the Duke of Devonshire, 'Mr. Chamberlain,
and other leaders of the Liberal Unionist party in favour of the prin-
ciples advocated by the Reform Association. Every item in their
programme of the 31st of August 1904 has been emphatically enjoined
as a necessary reform by the Liberal Unionist leaders. Mr. Chamber-
lam, not Lord Dunraven, is the parent of devolution. The object
of the Liberal Unionist policy, as he explained in his manifesto
of the 12th of June 1886, was * to relieve the Imperial Parliament
by devolution of Irish local business,'^ and^he earnestly advocated
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the sweeping away of the Bemi-independent Boards whioh now drag
their slow length^along.
After tiie great victory of 1886 Mr. Chamberlain deolared
that any one who has read and read carefally the speeches of Lord Salisbury,
of Sir Michael Hicks-Beach, of Lord Carnarvon, and, above aU, of Lord Randolph
ChnrchiU, all of them Conservative leaders, will see that they are not averse
to large and drastic changes in the government of Lreland. They are prepared
for a reform in the system of local government. They are prepared for a good
deal more. They are prepared to consider and review the whole of that
irritating centralising system of administration which is known as Dublin
Castle.
^ Mr. Qiamberlain is. as practical as he is bold. He did not content
himself with abstract proposals. His views took a more concrete
form. In 1885 he had proposed that a National Council with legisla-
tive powers should sit in Dublin, and perhaps another in Belfast. This
Council was to have executive powers, for it was to take over the
administration work of all the Boards then sitting in Dublin, and it
was to deal with such matters as land and education, the most burning
of all Irish questions. This proposal was repeated at the famous
Bound Table Conference after the defeat of Mr. Gladstone's Home
Bule Bill, and if it had not been rejected by Mr. Pamell there
would be now a National Coimcil in Dublin in the place of that
* absurd and irritating anachronism which is known as Dublin Castle.'
Subsequently Mr. Chamberlain substituted for this National Council
the scheme of Provincial Councils on the basis of the provincial legis-
latures of Canada. So far as I know, this wise proposal has never
been modified or withdrawn by Mr. Chamberlain.
This policy was not denounced in Ireland. On the contrary,
the Ulster Liberal Association, in an address published after Mr.
Chamberlain's manifesto quoted above, declared that 'the Land
question once settled, the way will be opened for the development
of local government, a^d Ulster Liberals are prepared to take their
full share in working out such powers as regards local and domestic
matters as may be delegated to local bodies by the Imperial Parlia-
ment.'
This, then, was the Irish policy of the Liberal Unionist party.
Has it been carried into effect? Certainly not. Some progress
was made during the days of 'Balfourian amelioration,' but, not
only has that progress ceased, but retrogression has begun. The
concessions then granted as regards local government have merely
touched the fringe of the reforms proposed by Mr. Chamberlain and
other leaders of the party, for the affairs delegated to the County
Councils are purely parochial, and do not extend to those more impor-
tant matters at present dealt with by the Imperial Parliament,
of which Mr. Chamberlain proposed the devolution. Mr. Chamber-
lain's policy was accepted by all Liberal Unionists as a reasonable
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1905 THE LIBERAL UNIONIST PABTT 196
compromiae. Wty is it now denounced by Mr. Balfour — ^why does
he declaie that if the organisation of moderate opinion in Ireland
is * to terminate in the eccentricities of deyolution, the less we have
of it the better M
We may be told that the Unionist leaders have changed their
minds. That is quite possible, but we who are accused of treachery
to the Union, or, to quote the words of the Attorney-General for
Ireland, of * mean and cruel desertion ' — ^we are entitied to ask why
tiiey have changed their minds and when they changed their minds.
Why is the policy which was wise and safe in 1886 dangerous and
perfidious in 1906? For let it be remembered that the policy of
devolution was proposed onty three years after the Phoenix Park
murders, and at a time when Ireland was seething with crime and
on the blink of revolution, when that unhappy country was honey-
combed with secret societies, when outrage and assassination were
nfe, and salvation was sought in dynamite. That was the condition
of tilings in 1886. Now, in 1905, Ireland is quiet, although not
contented. Even Mr. Long admits that she is practically free from
crime. Secret societies are extinct, assassination is unknown, and
djniamite has been thrown aside. Constitutional agitation has, except
in a few instances, taken the place of seditious conspiracy. And may
not tiie reception— generally enthusiastic and always courteous —
80 reoentiy given to their Majesties be accepted as evidence
that even the Irish Nationalists are loyal to the person of their
sovereign ?
The condition of Ireland is beyond question improved. Why,
then, are the concessions which could have been safely made in the
dark and turbulent dajrs of 1886 declared to be impossibly dangerous
in the comparatively bright and peaceful days of 1905 t
Gan it be a fact that concessions are refused because the danger
is over, and that we deny to peaceful agitation that which we
freely offered to crime and outrage 1 This is the inference which
undoubtedly will be drawn by those hostile to the Union. It cannot
be true, but yet what other explanation or justification can be offered t
Again I ask, and the question cannot be repeated too often and too
emphatically : How does the programme of the Reform Association — I
refer to the programme of the 31st of August 1904 — differ from the pro-
gramme solenmly proclaimed from time to time by the Liberal Unionist
leaders ? What item is there in the former which was not adopted
and blessed by the Duke of Devonshire, Mr. Chamberlain, and others ?
None. The programme of the Reform Association — that is to say,
extension of local government, the decentralisation of finance, Private
Kll legislation, the settlement of the question of higher education — does
not contain a single item which was not included in the authorised
programme of the Liberal Unionist party. Why, then, is all this
sound and fniy ? Why are we who are faithful to the principles
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196 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Ang.
and the policy of the party denounced as renegades and traitors ?
Why does Mr. Balfour, of all men, join in this hue and cry ?
What is the Irish policy of the Government ? It is a policy
of negation — a policy fraught with danger to the Union. The Grovem-
ment have abandoned every item of Mr. Wyndham's programme
except one — the stem enforcement of the order which ahready prevails.
Nothing is to be done for higher education. The Prime Minister
ipost sorrowfully admits his impotence. The co-ordination of the
various Boards — or, in other words, the reorganisation of Dublin
Castle — is abandoned, for to touch it would be to stir up the hornet's
nest. Even material improvements, Mr. Long tells us, must wait
until the Irish have learnt self-help ; and * administrative conciliation '
is to give way to Coercion.
l^e &ct is that the Government have surrendered and gone
over, bag and baggage, to the extremists. The leader of that party,
in his speech of the 20th of February, appealed to the Government * to
get rid of this wretched, rotten, sickening policy of conciliation ' ; and
they have obeyed without a murmur. Mr. Wyndham, the advocate
of conciliation, has been thrown overboard, and the command of
the ship has been given to Mr. Long, a persona grata to the party of
ascendency. Every possible concession has been made to the extre-
mists. When Mr. Moore threatened and blustered, when, to the great
dismay of the gentlemen concerned, he threatened on the eve of a
critical division to draw on his reserves — that is to say, to call upon
the Attorney and Solicitor Generals of Ireland and other office-holders
to resign their places — ^not even the humour of the situation tempted
the Prime Minister from the path of surrender.
Indeed Mr. Balfour, more papal than the Pope, has gone so far as to
say that devolution — or, in other words, the extension of local govern-
ment— is worse than Home Rule itself. Surely this is a reductio ad
absurdum of the case against devolution. Is a part greater than the
whole ? In those days when he dared to defy the^ extremists Mr.
Balfour gave the Irish control over their roads and their lunatics.
Does he really pretend that the proposal to extend the jurisdiction
of these councils to other matters is, to quote his mildest invective
an * eccentricity to be deplored ' ? The reason given for the Prime
Minister's strange theory is that devolution would satisfy neither of the
extreme parties ; but this is its merit. A policy which would satisfy
either must necessarily be a bad policy, because only an extreme policy
would be acceptable to either. Is a policy impossible because it is not
bad?
Is the only aim and object of a statesman to be the conciliation
of this or that body of men which has the power to make itself trouble-
some ? Is he never to be actuated by the consideration of what is
right and proper, or is expediency to be his only guide ? Thus thinks
the hardened opportunist. When theseTarguments were advanced
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1906 THE LIBERAL UNIONIST PARTY 197
in 1886 against the same policy, Mr. Chamberlain rebuked the oppor-
tunist and declared that it is our duty ' to do what is right and proper
because it is right and proper.' Thus speaks tlie true statesman.
The great majority of the Liberal Unionists have become Conserva-
tives. Take the list of the Unionist party and try to distinguish
between the two. What is the difference between Liberal Unionists
and Tories ? Are they at issue on any important question ? The
coalition has been a great success — the fusion has been complete
beyond all calculation. But how has it been effected ? Have the
Liberab become Conservatives or have the Conservatives become
liberab ? The truth is that the Liberal Unionists during the last
twenty years have marked time, while the Conservatives have
gradually come up into line with them. Meantime the Liberals have
been advancing and have left the amalgamated party far behind.
This was inevitable. In the world of politics, as in the world of
Nature, there is no standing stiU ; there must be progress or retro-
gression. On all sides there is evidence that the Liberal Unionist
who has not become a Tory and who is not absorbed in Tariff Reform
is ^ dished,' and that the reactionary is in future to be the predomi-
nant partner. Two policies — ^poles asunder — ^hold the field ; the policy
of Negation, which means retrogression, and the poUcy of Home Rule.
The Liberal Unionist pohcy — * to remedy every grievance from which
any section of the Irish people can legitimately be said to suffer ' —
has been abandoned. The Liberal Unionist party has ceased to exist —
it is broken up and dispersed. The Liberal Unionist free traders are
the only faithful survivors of the party which saved the Union. They
alone remain true to its creed and policy ; they alone keep the torch
burning. But they wander in the wilderness, without any hope of
the Promised Land. What are they to do ?,. How can they make
their voice heard t Too few in number, they cannot exist as an inde-
pendent unit ; and therefore, if they do not retire altogether from active
political life, they must enrol themselves in either the Conservative or
Liberal party. Which are we to join ? On what platform are those
of us who may be parliamentary candidates to take our stand t
But I must reserve for another occasion the consideration of this
question, as also the discussion of the manner in which the admitted
grievances of Ireland can be redressed, especially the burning griev-
ance in connection with higher education. For I altogether refuse to
allow that it is beyond the wit of man to devise a solution of even
that difficult problem which will be acceptable both to the Roman
Catholics of Ireland and the Nonconformists of England.
West Ridgeway.
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198 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Aug.
THE WHITE PERIL IN AUSTRALASIA
The development of the native power of Eastern Asia during the
last few years is a matter of serious moment to the British Colonies
of Australasia. This possibility was scarcely weighed at its full
appreciation when the Commonwealth Parliament three years ago
set oat to ratify in statute the popular platform clamour for a ^ White
Australia,' and that doctrine in its working now assumes a new and
precarious aspect. The ^ white ' doctrine is tm faiL aeoompU through-
out Australasia, for both the Conmionwealth and the colony of New
Zealand have set up barriers against the race aUen, with tlie object
of keeping their country to themselves. Regarded from an economic
standpoint, there is considerable difierenoe of opinion as to the morality
of such a step per se, and I have no intention of discussing it here.
The chief concern at present is the operation and tendency of the
restrictions, and the conditions that have resulted therefrom.
The New Zealand Lnmigration Restriction Act was passed in
1899. It prohibits the admission to the colony of ^any person of
other than British (including Irish) parentage who, when asked to do
so by an officer appointed under the Act, fails to himself write out
and sign in the presence of si^ch officer in any European language an
application in such form as the Colonial Secretary from time to time
directs.' Any appUcant dissatisfied with this test has right of final
appeal to a stipendiary magistrate. Otiier sections prohibit idiots
oi: insane persons, persons suffering from contagious diseases of a
loathsome or dangerous nature, and persons who within two years
past have been convicted in any country of an offence involving
moral turpitude which, if committed in New Zealand, would be
punished by two years' imprisonment or upwards. This Act does
not apply to shipwrecked persons. There is an exemption clause,
also, which provides that any person disqualified only by the language
test may enter the country on payment of a deposit of 100{. Chinese
are deaJt with under the Chinese Immigration Act of 1881, with
amendments, the effect of which is that any Chinaman can enter the
country on payment of a poll-tax of lOOi. Chinese women who are
the wives of Chinese so admitted are exempted &om paying the
tax. The position thus is that in New Zealand and Austraha the
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1906 THE WHITE PERIL IN AUSTBALASIA 199
Chinaman and the European who cannot write are placed under
exactly the same restrictions. The Federal Immigration Restriction
Act was passed in 1901, following closely on the lines of the New
Zealand statute. The language test is somewhat different. It pro-
hibits * any person who fails to write to dictation a passage of forty
words in length in an European language directed by the officer/
but there is the same reservation with regard to the admissicm of
persons failing in this test on payment of a deposit of 1001. The
Federal Act also prohibits ^any person who is likely to become a
charge upon the public or upon any public or charitable institution/
and ' any persons under contract or agreement to perform manual
labour witUn the Commonwealth.' To the latter restriction there is
a reservation for *' specially skilled ' workmen required in the Common-
wealtii. Pacific Islanders are dealt with by a special Act, which
provides for the deportation of every Kanaka at the end of December
1906.
The barriers being thus defined, we shall proceed to consider
the conditions obtaining throughout the East. Australia is at the
threshold of the East. Port Darwin and the ports of Queensland and
West Australia are within a few days' steam of Hie great seaports
of China and Japan, from which tiiere is a continuous overflow of
surplus population to the waste parts of the earth. Japan, a country
of 162,655 square miles, of which not more than one-sixth is available
for cultivation, has a population of 48,760,000, to which the expanding
requirements of sustenance under Western conditions are already
causing congestion. The density of the population in Japan is
gieater than that of any other considerable nation in the world, with
the exception of Qreat Britain ; but, on the other hand, the United
Kingdom is part of a world-wide empire of over twelve million square
miles, over which the average density is only thirty-three persons
to the mile. Japan has no waste places into which to disgoi^ its
surplus population. If all the political difficulties of the East were
dispelled, and the population of China, Japan, and Siberia were
distributed over the whole of those countries, there would still be an
average density of nearly forty to the square mile. The reality of
the menace to Australia is readily apparent.
The conditions under which Australasia is held by people of
British race are shown by the following table : —
-
Area in
Square Miles
Popnifttion
Density per
Square Mile
AnBtraKa
New Zealand ....
Australasia ....
2,972,906
104,471
8,782,948
772,719
1-27
7-39
8,077,877
4,556,662
1-48
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200 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Aug.
So far as New Zealand is concerned the position need not cause
any great alarm, for the population is well scattered, the agricultural
class has a good grip of the country, and the waste places are few
and small. In Australia, on the other hand, the white population
is contained in a narrow fringe along the eastern and southern sea-
boards, with a sparser scattering extending inland here and there,
particularly in Victoria and New South Wales. The mining fields of
Central and West AustraUa cannot, of course, be regarded as per-
manent settlements, and the population engaged thereon scarcely
ranks in the same class as an agricultural population.
The immoraUty of the present situation is that four millions of
people in Australasia jealously regard three milhon square miles of
territory as their own, and impose a drastic restriction upon applicants
for admission ; while just across the water — ^almost as dose as New
ZiCaland is to AustraUa — ^there are countries teeming with a virile
population just awakening to the first expanding wants of civilisa-
tion forced upon them by the white races. The danger is evident.
The final solution must be the arbitrament of numbers, and then
Austraha will be sadly lacking. Even if the Russians are hurled
back upon Europe, and the whole of North and Eastern Asia is thrown
open to the development and cultivation of China and Japan, the
time will only be delayed by a few decades when the independent
Mongol races, impelled by their increasing numbers and requirements,
and released from the repressive influence of plague, famine, and
internal war, will turn their eyes to the Pacific and seek fresh fields
in the line of least resistance. The Japanese nation is young, unani-
mous, and irresistible. To-morrow it will be reinforced by three
hundred millions of Chinese, whom Australia recognises — ^if England
does not — as the smartest traders and most intelligent industrial men
in the world. The efforts of a few millions of people to withhold the.
vast virgin continent of AustraUa from the clutch of the Eastern
invaders wiU be futile. Diplomacy will be of no avail, for argument
never yet dammed back the flood of nationaUty sweeping along
behind the bayonets of a young and vigorous people. The rural
population is any nation's bulwark. If AustraUa can cut up her
Crown lands and get yeomen settled on the remotest back blocks
the fear of the YeUow Peril will be mitigated. Her claim to the
great AustraUan continent will then be a moral one, and, moreover,
if the time unhappily comes, it can be defended.
But, instead of tending in this direction, the carefully-devised
immigration le^slation is having an unexpected result. White im-
migration to AustraUa has practically ceased. The European emigrants
are aU going to New Zealand ; the Asiatics and other race aUens to
AustraUa. From 1892 to 1903 AustraUa lost 1,875 souls by excess
of departures over arrivals. In the same period New Zealand gained
54,343. Papers presented to the Federal^ParUament last year show
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1905 THE WHITE PERIL IN AUSTRALASIA 201
how peculiarly the Restriction Act works. During 1902, the first
year of the operation of the new Act, 653 persons, including Algerians,
Arabs, ChiHans, Chinese, Egyptians, FiUpinos, Hindus, Kurds,
Tonkinese, and many Europeans, were refused admission to the
Commonwealth. Of these thirty-two were regarded as Ukely to become
a charge upon the pubUc ; 618 failed in the language test ; two were
idiots or insane ; and one was a recently-convicted criminal. During
the same period thirty-three persons passed the education test, in-
cluding West Indians, Syrians, Burmese, FiUpinos, Japanese, Mauri-
tians, South Sea Islanders, and St. Helena blacks. But the most
remarkable return of all is that showing the number of persons
admitted without being asked to undergo the language test. They
numbered 45,468, including 35,330 of British nationahty, 1,181 Italians,
1,162 Germans, 1,011 French, 647 Austrians, and 471 North Americans.
The great majority of these were commercial men and tourists, who
left perhaps the same year, for the whole gain to AustbaUa by im-
migration in 1902 was only 2,091. Ck)ming to the nationaUties that
are antagonistic to the White AustraUa poUcy, we find the remarkable
paradox that 2,410 Asiatics and 1,302 of other races were admitted
without being asked to pass the education test. Out of 2,952 Asiatics
who appUed- for admission to AustraUa, 2,410 were admitted without
question, twenty-two passed the test, and only 529 were refused
admission, probably to be admitted at another port of the Ck)mmon-
weidth. The 3,734 persons of Asiatic and other aUen races who were
admitted to the Conmionwealth in 1902 may ahnost all be regarded
as permanent settlers ; and this in a year in which the total gain to
AustraUa by immigration was only 2,091. The grounds of admission
without test were as follows : Ninety-one were deserters ; 1,079 were
Chinese who had State permits on payment of poll-tax; 246 were
Japanese who entered under agreement between Queensland and
Japan; and 1,139 were Pacific Islanders with statutory authority.
The pearling industry of the north, which requires the special skill
exempted by the Act, was the excuse for the admission of 717 persons,
of whom 321 were Malays, 188 were Japanese, ninety-five FiUpinos,
and eighty-five Papuans. The position of New Zealand at the same
time was much more satisfactory. The gain by excess of immigra-
tion in 1902 was 7,990, and of these only 102 were race aUens
(including sixty-nine Chinese).
An analysis of the population of AustraUa shows that out of
3,782,943 souls returned at the census of 1901, 54,441 were coloured
aUens, including 30,542 full-blood Chinese and 3,554 Japanese. There
were also about 10,000 Kanakas on the Queensland plantations, a
number that has been increased by some thousands since, but will
be quite wiped out at the end of next year.
It is very evident from these figures that if the AustraUans desire
to secure their country against the menace of the East they must
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202 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Aug.
oommence at once to attract a stream of white immigration. At
present nothing is being done. . Canada and the United States are
nearer to the congested population of Europe, and they are offering
liberal terms to immigrants, whose passage-money across the Atlantic
is only a small matter compared with that to Australia. The only
movement of population in Australia at present is inter-State. Quite
recently an internal campaign has been inaugurated, one State taking
settiers from another. Westralia is trying to coax Victorian farmers
to go west ; Queensland is endeavouring to entice them away to the
Darling Downs. The figures for West Australia last year show
dearly what is happening. While that State gained 11,954 persona
last year by quasi-immigration, the other States lost in the aggregate,
for tiie net increase of the AustraUan population by immigration was
only 1,630. Out of the 11,954 that West Australia gained, 11,814
were of European nationaUty (including 11,582 British). Yet only
487 people were added to the West AustraUan population by excess
of arrivals from Europe. More than 11,000 came from the other
States of the Commonwealth. Such a redistribution of population
may, of course, lead to some increase of production, but it can
never fulfil the function of legitimate immigration. Moreover, the
West AustraUan immigrants were chiefly of the nomad mining class,
ike grants of agricultural land to immigrants amounting to only
400 acres for the year.
Australia must establish herself in possession of the Aui|traUan
continent by attracting white settlers to open up the back country.
The insular and suicidal idea of admitting only English-speaking
people must go by the board. We should faU into the American way
of thinking, and, if White AustraUa is a cry worth encouraging, attract
healthy men of any European nation to come over and help us fell
our bush, till our land, build our dams and water-races, and trans-
port produce to the seaboard. If England cannot send us healthy
young men of the right stamp — and it almost seems that under pre-
sent conditions she caimot — ^we must turn our eyes towailis Poland,
Scandinavia, and Hungary, that have done so much already in building
up the British Colonies. It is health and youthful vigour that the
Colonies require, not academic knowledge of any particular language.
The AustraUan nationaUty can be protected by a short period franchise
quaUfication, and at the end of that time our pride will be conserved
by the abiUty of the newcomers to speak fair EngUsh. What we
particularly want is to prevent failures and disappointed persons
returning to England with discouraging tales. I have seen famiUes
step ashore from an immigrant ship — ^fathers burdened with six or
eight children, who cannot be kept in the Colonies under a pound or
two a week. A few months later they have sorrowfully embarked
for home, their earnings gone, their famiUes 13,000 miles from
friends. Workers are wanted, unencumbered to be effident, young
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1905 THE WHITE PERIL IN AUSTRALASIA 208
to be adaptable; and they should be selected at the ports of
embarkation by agents who know the fluctuating conditions and the
class of land available in the colonies they represent. One dis-
appointed immigrant is worse than no immigrant at all to everyone
except the shipping company. When the selected immigrants land
they should find imimproved land set apart for them, and money
advances available for initial outlay in their holdings.
It is only by getting settlers quickly and opening up the back
country that Australia can restore that confidence in financial centres
that will place money at her disposal for development ; and this is
the sine qua non of her existence. Unless AustraUa, from an empty
shard, quickly becomes a hive of industry, the Yellow Peril will midn-
tain its leahty, and be a lasting menace to the development of the
remarkable economic and social evolution that is gradually unfolding
in the interdq)endent countries of Australia and New 2iealand.
Guy H. Soholbfdcld.
WelUngton^ New ZeaiUvikd,
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204 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Aug.
IMPRESSIONAL DRAMA
It has been said that the true artist recognises in the amateur one
who has the ' amor,' or love of art ; in the dilettante one who feels
* diletto/ or pleasure in art. On a general recognition of this truth
the rebirth of drama in a measure depends. From the artist's stand-
point the word ^amateur' has proved misleading; especially mis-
leading to the general public as used in criticism. We read of the
shortcomings of the * obvious amateur,' the ' tyranny * of the amateur.
In contrasting the drawbacks of the amateur with the value of
professionalism the President at a dramatic banquet the other day
deplored that ^ this was an age when the amateur flourished ' ; he did
not add how obviously the paid servant of the public sometimes
' flourishes ' who is without love of art, while the unpaid, as obviously
a lover of art, lives for it alone. The former the stage could do well
without, while on the latter its very existence depends. In this
sense it has been well said, ^ Better a skilled *' amateur " than an
ignorant professional.' Were it not for the progress of the amateur-
student and his recognised status in the world of art there would be
a deadlock in the progress of interpreting refined drama. For the
enthusiastic dilettante, given the opportunity for regular study, can
afford to live for it, die for it without remuneration, which im-
fortunately the poor professional cannot do.
It is no exaggeration to say that only one in a thousand has the
faculty of discovering the subtle quality in a rare and perfect work
of art. Still fewer can feel or analjrse the subtle qualities of the artist-
impulse. If called forth, it is at a moment when the creative and
interpretative are meeting and clasping hands. It may be on the
stage that some slight form of gesture in actor or actress, whose
acting for the most part may perhaps be indifferent, remains for ever
impressed on the spectator's imagination. Or it may be called
forth by some exquisite stroke of genius in stage-craft. It is a creation
if it has left its impress on the susceptible human organism — ^the mind
of the artist always being more or less in a state of receptivity.
In Mr. Tree's representation of the Tempest that person must be
unreceptive indeed who could witness without emotion the floating
farewell of Ariel, ethereal blue against the blue of sea, sky, and mist,
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1905 IMPBES8I0NAL DBAMA 206
and the last sight of Caliban, as through the fog, which has settled on
his island, he watches the distant ship pass out and away with out-
stretched, desolate arms, then bows his poor, hideous, hopeless head,
and for the first time knows loneliness. That stroke in stage-craft
was a creation, and concerns the rig of the onward sail in the art of
ezpressmg impressional drama. Such flashes of genius cannot escape
the unbiassed artist-critic, and must reveal to him the true histrionic
artist, be that artist professional or unprofessional. To the artist-
critic we must appeal in these days of advertisement as a promoter
of the unstagey in acting. For the actor who is endowed with the
faculty of calling up at will momentary emotions in his own soul,
80 that the vibrations of his own voice provoke him to tears or laughter
— ^that one is a dramatic artist, paid or unpaid. But, as a distin-
guished chef cTorchestre discovered to his sorrow during the production
of a recent masterpiece, this supersensibility, unless under stem
control, is not devoid of danger. In the middle of the marvellous
orchestration of a great masterpiece a sudden silence fell upon the
concert hall. The orchestra had become mute. The leader looked
up in dismay. The musicians were in tears.
Self-control of sensibility, the absolute subordination of the
emotionary organism to the will, combined with study of technique,
produces the actor-artist. The very actor who knows this has it at
his fingers' ends, forbye — this as the Scottish say — ^there is humour.
The functional force of genius is the life in the organism, therefore
functional force is the actor's power. It is the feu aacrS — the fire that
flames but never consumes. The man or woman on the stage who
lades this functional force develops {pace Diderot ^) into the ranter, the
grimacer. If either of them attain to fame it is as character actors,
tiirough the mimetic faculty alone. A player becomes creative from
the moment when he has well studied and rehearsed a character in a
play. When he presents it to an audience for the first time he is, in
&ct, an experimentaUst. If successful, he afterwards imitates the
effects he has invented and practised. He is then a creator. In this
sense the art of acting developed is mechanical and mimetic, the
actor fiixes in his mind the appropriate gesture, the intonation, the
expression, the action seized at a moment of inspiration ; he puts them
by and treasures them, ready and obedient servants to be rung up at
his wOl. He founds every great part on a former experience in cha-
racterisation and interpretation. Every successful type is as a stone
towards the bulwark of his art bridge. He is great in his art accord-
ing to the imaginative power he possesses of sinking his individuality,
merging his identity in those images of his own creation.
If in proportion to the actor's intellectual balance is his emotional
and projective power, he will by study attain the secret of proportion,
the art of moderation, strengthening and effacing. His intellect
' The Paradox of Acting,
Vol. LVin— No. 342 P
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206 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Aug.
rationalises the expression of his feeling» holds his emotions witiiin
the hands of a sane imagination. All great art is sane, nor can there
be a greater tribute paid to histrionic art than to saj of it that of all
the arts it is the most sane, the most exalted, and the most rare.
Because the actor or actress worthy of the name is exponent of all
the arts in a greater or less degree. They thrill to the touch of all the
Muses. The ripples of drapery which have their source in action is
a language which appeals to their soul as to the sculptor. They
equally value the scientific study of drapery as a powerful exponent
of emotion, most eloquent in the mute poetry of sculpture and painting
— ^not less eloquent on the stage to mark and emphasise the passion
of a moment. Therefore the great actor should live in our memory
for ever, who is master of this most complex and wonderful of all the
arts.
The reformers* cry of ' Organise the theatre,* said the President
of the Playgoers' Club,' while deploring the general condition of oui
drama, is of no avail until the first want has been supplied, viz.
* good plays.' It meant ^ the necessity of beating up new recruits for
the drama among the men outside the present theatrical preserve,
and unaffected by the paralysing theatrical tradition.' He thought
that ^ it would die if it did not at times escape from its dose atmosphere
of dra¥mg-room intrigue, club scandal, and belated suppers, into the
open air, into places of country featured truth and honesty.' He
affirmed that all sides of man, noble and ignoble, should be treated
on the stage, and that there is no subject unfit for presentation, but
that it all depended on treatment and diversity of theme — and, we
dare to add, the elimination of the ugly ! The triumph of the ugly
in this commonplace, passionless generation, is nowhere more con-
spicuous than on the stage. The ugly names of theatres, the ugly
names of plays, their subject and their subject-treatment. Surely
this is all that Eleonora Duse meant when she said, ^ To save the
theatre, the theatre must be destroyed, the actors and actresses must
all die of the plague. They poison the air, they make art impossible.
It is not drama that they play, but pieces for the theatre. We should
return to the Greeks, play in the open air. The drama dies of stalls
and boxes and evening dress, and people who come to digest their
dinner.'
^# . But romantic drama may be made impossible even in the open
air — ^I mean on Nature's stages. The imrealistic representations of
the Attic theatre are, of course, out of the question. To stalk on
stilts, shrouded in robes, and drone harrowing emotions through a
mask in our generation is not convincing, and on a natural stage
would appear the more false, exaggerated, theatrical, and ludicrous.
I remember, when inaugurating pastoral plays for the first time cm
a natural stage in ISSli one reaUsed that, altJiough the conditions of
* Mr.Banie.
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dramatic art are imitatiye, as those of all the other arts, to those
conditions it is not always in Nature's power to conform. One also
realised that drama strictly speaking is not imitative of Nature, but
representative, but that for those plays in which the chief elements
and surroundings are eminentiy natural, open-air treatment appealed
as a revelation. The advanti^e gained by a pastoral setting is on
the side of the^ romantic drama. We would realise the ideal. Open-
air acting means this or nothing.
Psychologically and dramatically, if we are to live and move with
our heroes and heroines in a pastoral story, joy with their ]ojs and
weep with their sorrows, our sympathies must be the more awakened
and intensified through Nature's own operation ; for, as spectators,
we are wrought upon from without as well as from within, subjected
to the same psychological influences which are felt unconsciously by
the players themselves (pace Diderot), and which must also have been
felt by the people whose lives and characters they represent. Players
and spectators alike cannot but be carried into a realisation of actual
pastoral life while Nature's vibrating accompaniment speaks to them
in the lisp of leaves and ^ the murmur that springs from the growing
of grass,' in the song of birds, and in all the many outward symbols
of her ceaselessly pulsating life. In effect, it is through the feelings
she inspires, under certain conditions of harmony, that the sensitive
spectator is moved to a delight which finds its expression in tears.
Breathing above all else of the woods, of song-birds, and wild flowers
are the beautiful forest scenes in As You Like It. If any realisation
is possible of such beauty, surely it can only be found by endeavouring
to make it one with that Nature from which it descended, and in which
alone it could find its counterpart ? Whether any such realisation
was suggested in the pastorals played at Coombe it is for others to
say.' Art demands a special treatment when brought into contact
with Nature, and Nature a special treatment when confronted with
art. Take, for instance, Fletcher's unique pastoral The FaiihfuU
Shepherdesse : it must surely stand or fall in eflect, according to
whether we see in it a mere theatric play or a parable — a parable
where thoughts and moods take visible form, put on comely attire^
and appear before us ; a pageant in which we should endeavour to
make the gracious old Arcadian life move again, and, while retaining
the Grecian outline, strive that it should gain by mediaeval magic of
colour, and by the Northern temper of romance.
We have seen pastorals lately, that is to say, plays, played in
tiie open air. No doubt beauty led to the inception. Allowing for
the manifold difficulties for art-director and for players who challenge
• As You Likfi U, July 1884. As You Like It, May 1885. The Faithfull SJutp^
herdesse (pastoral by Fletcher), June and July 1885. Fair Rosamund^ adapted from
Lord Tennyson's Becket by E. W. Godwin, July 1886. Le Baiaer (by Theodore de
BuTille), 9th of Angosft, 1889.
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comparison with Nature herself, spectators*have observed that in
many attempts the challenge was imsuccessful. Why ? Presuming
that the aim of open-air plays is to promote a union between Nature
and Art, why should it not alwajrs be successful ? We primarily
demand absence of aggressive artificiality. Where the environment
of the actor is artificial, artificial acting may pass current. But
Nature is the test, the touchstone. She must be the ever-present
standard. We must consult Nature and humour her, because her
suggestions of method are not less varied and infinite than are her
changes of mood. Nature, jealous of line, of hue, and even of sound,
insists that wherever Art is confronted with her, it shall partake of
her own essence. Therefore those artificial lines and dyes, those
sounds which are in accord with a certain given condition of Nature,
are alone admissible ; she exacts of them that they shall enhance her
own beauty by contrast or by harmony.
No discordant note of colour may be struck unless it harmonise
with Nature's key in which we play. No tone of colour dare we
introduce that we have not borrowed from Nature's own stage. Only
those notes of colour must be struck in the different impersonations
that shall resolve into perfect concord. Thus only can we attain to
a system of colour-grouping by scheme — ^a scheme I ventured once to
call * Rainbow-music' In the setting of plays, indoors or out of
doors, as in every branch of decorative art, without scientific method
in colour-grouping there is no form. We must have line and colour-
motive. We must have our pictures of moving sound and colour
framed.
The director of the natural stage to be successful must avoid
customary stage conventions, and yet strictly adhere to the exigencies
of Drama. To run in and out like rabbits in a warren is to set at
defiance every condition of dramatic art. In the choice of the
pictorial setting there is art. The axis of the auditorium and natural
stage are all important. The sides technically known as wings have
to be manoeuvred, exits and entrances made to emphasise the
dramatic action, and yet to appear an integral portion of the
picture, and the illusion of time and place must be kept up, or respected,
to say the least of it, by the appropriate rise and faU of a decorous
and harmonious curtain. For the rest, we ought to be infused with
Nature's external thoughts and ideas. Not on the boards can this
be possible, not in any theatre of rustling programmes. Among
fresh leaves, to song of birds. If not here, then in some divine order
of things in the Great Hereafter. Meanwhile, seeing the whole fabric
here is based on a fabric of human Ues, social in its grain and in its
appearance, we must look up. Drama has a Soul.
The poetical playwright, trammelled by the conventions of idealised
speech, has, of course, immeasurably greater difficulties to encounter
to-day than in the days of Elizabethan drama. As a well-known
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writer Baid : * So entirely has drama lost that flexibility which enabled
Shakespeare and his contemporaries to get into the form what is
called literature, that the writer of dramatic dialogue now merely
famishes a thin verbal gauze through which the actor has to blow in
order to produce the required artistic illusion.* *
Too much complexity of plot is no longer tolerated, and craft in
dovetailing is not enough. We demand literary qualities of the
highest order, choicest language, euphony in idealised speech, whether
in prose or verse, above all directness and brevity. The day for rant
and spouting, the day for ^tearing passion to rags and tatters,' is
soon to be of the past. If we sometimes see reserve force overdone,
and grieve over the self-conscious posing which is too often substituted
for spontaneity and breadth of diction, these are faults in the right
direction, inherent in a state of transition ; for restraint is chief factor
by which the modem exponent of poetic drama captures the under-
standing and the sympathy of the audience. We realise more and
more since the birth of Shakespearean drama that rage and rhetoric
do not carry conviction. The rage that begets clamour being true
to Nature, we realise that clamour or a gasping silence is more eloquent
on the stage than grandiloquent speech. We know the play that
cannot endure literary criticism is not worthy of the name of drama,
and at the same time we realise how Uttle as drama the merits of a
play can be gauged by a mere perusal in print ; how the playwright's
instructions can but inadequately supply to the majority of readers
the ext^malisatdon of the life, the situations and characters the author
lias woven into his verbal gauze. Imaginative drama is either the
expression of the soul's passions or nothing — ^true dramatic genius
being of the Soul. It has been truly said of Eleonora Duse, her art
' is to do over again xmconsciously the sculpture of the Soul upon the
body.' Moods and thoughts too subtle and profound to be spoken,
which find clear and forcible expression in pantomime, are the test of
the inborn actor and playwright. The eloquence of silence in the
interpretation of the Soul's identity cannot be over-estimated. And
again, if imaginative drama, be it comedy or tragedy, in prose or in
verse, is to have an immediate future, the surviving plays will surely
be those wherein due regard has been paid by the author to conceal-
ment of purpose, if he has any — ^and to brevity ? Was it not Malpighi
who cried out, of * The Epic ' — * It were better cut short ' ?
Is not the play of the future the short play ? Will there not be
a protest soon against the length of plays ? It is an age of hurry ;
an impatient age in which we live. In the wear and tear and hustle
of modem life we lose the capacity for responding to any prolonged
impression. The modem lover of drama, who goes to the theatre
to be harrowed, thriUed, entranced, or amused, is physically incapable
of bearing a long strain on the emotions. Indeed, the limitations of
* Mr. Theodore Watts Dnnton.
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our human organism correspond with the limitations of our mental
receptivity; consequently our emotions fall flat, our senses for
artistic enjoyment flag long before the end of a long play. To the
weary the curtain falls on an anti-climax. It seems probable only
those poetical plays will have a fair hearing in which undecorated
dialogue is substituted for rhetoric and silence for speech, where the
author has left philosophy and moral to take care of itself. Such an
interpretation of the life poetic, simple and direct, is surely what we
are longing for — spraying for ; expressed in a form we might define as
Supporters of the contemporary English stage have naturally been
scared by the alarming demand for * serious British dramatic art.'
But a play with * beauty for beauty's sake * for its * motif * should
appeal to more than the cultivated few ; the sense of beauty lying
dormant as often in ignorant peasant as educated peer. It is a sad
reflection how many unexpressed geniuses in this wide world are never
unearthed until they win the Beyond. Here clutching like the mole
their fingers have grown out, and weighed with their own earth-heaps
are doomed to lie. The super-sensitive artist, who is alone con-
stituted to expound the ideal in drama, is bound to succumb in the
struggle for daily existence. As long as this is so, time and oppor-
tunity are with the amateur dramatist, exempt from professional
cares, among highly educated men and women. "Will they not come
to the rescue of dramatic art ?
Prom the school of acting we certainly have the promise of reform
in interpretation. Up to the present we have seldom heard in dramatic
verse the intonation or felt the vibration of the spirit. We look for
the day when sense in poetry will no longer be sacrificed in delivery,
when the supposed trammels of blank verse will be discarded as a
delusion, when monotonous intonation — ^the despair of the dramatic
poet — will be as out of date as Sunday lichool sing-song in the delivery
of rhyme.
The essential in criticism is freedom of mood. Every dramatic
work suggests its own form of presentation, just as every work sug-
gests its own form of criticism. We believe on this point all artistic
minds are at one. Given that an author shall stage his play, were it
not well that he himself should act the chief r6k, or an all-important
part ? Less liable to delusion he must be regarding his own work
than either actor, or the playwright, pure and simple, when con-
fronted with the awful odds of his own structure. If language or
action is lacking in one essential, then is the actor condemned by the
plajrwright, the playwright criticised by the actor. No criticism can
be so condemning, so staggering, so final. The meaningless gap, the
meandering thread, a thread knotted too tight, or an end left loose
in the wings, the missing word, the too many words, the word too
long, the word too short, the slightest neglect of the complex changes
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in verbal movement, that enphonions jugglery in dramatic art by
which we distingnish and interpret the varying passionB, not only of
the human individual, but of Nature and her passing moods, from
the amorous lyrical measure to the fiery sentences, which must, as
has been well said, * strike like sparks from a horse's hoofis at gaQop.'
The acting-author's shortcomings stare him in the face— want of
cohesion, continuation, concentration. His own ghost, his second
self, as it were, confronts him over the footlights. He is the puzzled
man in the pit. I believe we must all have gone through this ordeal
who have acted and staged our own inventions.
Playwrights have spoils in this country if they only knew it !
Although the city with its babbling tongues is hardly yet ripe for it,
they will find them in the Drama of Impressions. For there is a
tendency of thought towards a psychical interpretation of life.
A cult by which author, actor, and manager can bring those ineffable
things that seem far away close to us on the stage of our understanding.
A play is not unworthy of interest because it neither stirs nor moves
an average audience to laughter or tears. It will entrance the senses
and be dramatic and convincing if constructed in accordance with the
admonitions of the master of dramatists. *'Tis the changing and
shifting movement that doth catch the eye, and pleases the imagina-
tion, and plays of all kinds seeme manie times to give delight in th'
action, which have lesse attracted us in our study.' Although King
Lear, Mcu)beth, Hamlet, are all distinct types of masterly creation,
some critics affirm that they are characters no more than indicated
m spite of their voluminosity of speech. The truth of the assertion is
exemplified in that the great actor of modem days is enabled to
project and individualise such indications of character by the light
of latter-day intelligence in a realistic manner undreamt of in Shake-
speare's time. This points also to a likely development in the modem
playwright's craft for masterly character-individualisation and new
methods for presenting Shakespearean types on the stage of to-day
with far less literary detail.
To quote the words written by Victor Hugo in his latter days,
* There are those things which can only be enacted on the stage of a
man's mind.' Now, M. Maeterlinck demands a theatre of moods
rather than of action, where nothing material happens and where
everjrthing immaterial is felt. 'The mystic meditations of the Belgian
dramatist are those of a tme literary artist tuid symbolist. He has
not written for the stage that is in every man's mind, nor does his
dramatic work always bear the test of study, but his method is wholly
theatric in the legitimate sense. Such interpretation as he gives us
of Life's unanswerable enigma, he projects as it were through a veil.
While his predecessors have portrayed for us the complete human
being, mind, body, and soul, this dramatist but gives the mortal
shape. M. Maeterlinck's characters do not appearj[to us as souls, but
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abstractions. Souls do not exist that plays may be — but plays exist
because souls are. And some of us may feel that, although a drama
well acted should contain and convey the mjBtic depths of a mood,
the province of the dramatist lies quite away from myBtic philosophy.
It would almost seem that the process of the soul's alchemy can only
be touched by the dramatist effectively, in so far as the problem or
problems of the soul tend and belong directly or indirectly to the
development of characterisation and story, that is to say-^in the
constant appeal to our human xmderstanding through the sensuous
capacities of our human soul, as we conceive it from the transcen-
dentalist's point of view, our body but the shadow of our real self
• on the journey of truth ' walking the highwayB of eternity.
A triumph within the Belgian master's limitations is most aptly
shown in Petteas'cmd Mdisande ; he shows us types of humanity as
shadows thrown on a wall, unsubstantial yet sharply defined. Pell6as,
rash lover, whom we have met as Pans and Paolo, to say nothing of
his earUer appearance as the serpent in the household of our first
forefathers ; Golaud, Beauty's Beast, unreformed by transformation,
is Vulcan, Othello, any jealous husband, of any time; M61isande,
favourite aspect of the Eternal Feminine, at once man's victim and
beguiler ; Arkel, the Eternal Bore, in whom we fail to recognise either
august Old Age, whom we love with awe, or Childlike Old Age, whom
we love with pity. We do not see The Old Age expressed so beauti-
fully by the autiior in his chapter on ' The Tragedy of Daily life.'
The one * giving unconscious ear to all the eternal laws that reign
about his home, interpreting without comprehending the silence of
doors and windows — and the quivering voice of the light, submitting
with bent head to the presence of the Soul and his destiny.' ^ For
King Arkel is a doddering pedant who cannot kiss without a perora-
tion. The shadow on M. Maeterlinck's wall is either more elusive
than he intended, or King Arkel is a survivor of the unfittest. PeUeas
and Mdisande is the first step in an achievement with which this
article is concerned. It is not the last. Drama as an exposition of
life, human and spiritual, must be presented from the ideal stand-
point. We cannot view Heaven from the gutter. Given that we
have playwrights as well as actors and actresses within or without
the profession whose ima^nation is too exalted, too flame-like to be
held down or extinguished in the struggle to live, and that the long
looked for School of Acting continues to prosper, a * Conservatoire '
for training actors be completed, Impressional Drama must have an
immediate future in the wide, many-sided, playgoing world of London.
If the outcry is for realism, we should be given Reality, not the
fictitious reaUty we witness in * the drama of the dust-bin,' but the
reality which unites earth with heaven. If a good play, as I have
tried to show, depends not merely on smart epigram, not only on great
« Le Trisor des Humbles.
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mise-en'Sckne, nor on study of character alone, then 4)he highest goal
the dramatist as well as the art director can make for, is the endeavour
to express to and impress an audience with the reaUsation of the
ideal.
Among creative productions made memorable by their appeal
to the sense of beauty through originality in dramatic treatment
we may instance Helena in Ttoaa^ produced under the directorship
of one who has been called poet of architects and architect of
all the arts/ Here, by the living picture in exquisite harmony
of line, soxmd, colour, and rhythmical movement, the ideal was
made manifest. From the firat moment of entering the white
theatre as he had fashioned it, a sense of beauty, hushed and serene,
stole over the spectator, such as one might fancy had never been felt
since Greeks listened to the plays of Euripides. As the tragedy
imfolded itself (dawn growing into noonday, and noon waning into
night) the hush continued, grew more intense ; the rhythmical move-
ments of the chorus made the story come and go like a shadow of fate,
seen in clear water or in a crystal sphere ; the reverie of a god, or of a
Bool that dreams of a god's ways. With the death of Paris, and
Helen's last sad words, the play was not over. When like figures on
a marble frieze, the band of white-robed maidens wound through the
twili^t, past the altar of Dionysus, and one by one in slow procession
climbed the steps and passed away, the audience was absolutely
stalled in excitement. All minds were held in strong emotion as by
a voice which, * when ceased, men still stood fixed to hear.* The
pure keynote of beauty was again struck. line and colour taking
the pla<^ of language, the play ultimately reverted to that plastic
ideal which lies at the basis of all Greek art.
Janey Sevilla Campbell,
• KtiUna tn Ttooa, By Professor Todhanter.
» E. A. Godwin, FJUL
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214 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Ang.
VANISHING VIENNA
A RETROSPECT
Thbsb notes, made some ten years ago, have hardly more than a
historical interest now, for Viennese society has since then imder-
gone great changes. The ensnaring old-world aroma, elusive and
intangible though it was, is now barely more than a memory, and I
daresay the generation which has replaced the one I knew will declare
that my accoimt in many ways is incorrect. This, however, is not
the case, as those who knew Vienna in the eighties can aver, and
these notes were made soon after my departure from that city, when
my impressions were quite vivid, and the sorrow at the parting from
so many loved friends still fresh. I will, therefore, give them as they
were made, without any changes, as I fear to trust the correctness of
my memory after a lapse of fifteen years.
It is not possible, I think, to give a just and adequate idea of
"^ennese society without showing out of what roots it sprung, and
this I propose to do in a few words. When Francis the First renounced
in 1806 the title of Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, and assumed
the one of Emperor of Austria, he severed himself completely from
German interests, and many of the highest German aristocracy who
had hitherto flocked to Vienna withdrew to their respective countries,
leaving only a small nucleus of society, formed of the richest and most
powerful families belonging to the different parts of the Austrian
Empire. The diaries of Rrederic Gentz, the well-known and cele-
brated diplomatic agent, give a very good idea of this transformation.
This society was composed of some families belonging to Austria
proper, a fair proportion of great Bohemian names, a few Hungarians,
and a sprinkling of Poles. They all had splendid palaces in Vienna,
and some of these families live in them unto this day. The principal
and ever-recurring names in Gentz's diaries are Liechtenstein, Auers-
perg, Dietrichstein, Harrach.. Mettemich, Esterhazy, Schonbom,
Rasomofisky, Pallavicini, Palfiy, (fee. Such was the composition of
society at the time of the Congress in 1815, and it is not very much
changed now. Vienna had through the best part of the nineteenth
century the reputation of being the gayest capital of Europe. Relieved
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from the stram and agitation of Napoleonic days, tlie Anstrian aristo-
cracy gave itself up with its natural insouciance to its love of sport,
pleasure, and display, living a life of continual social intercourse,
whiHng time away in its own *gemuthKch' fashion, and never
caring what the future might have in store of good or evil. "N^enna
was always pre-eminent for the facilities it affords of spending money,
and together with Paris it set for the Continent the fashions in dress,
furniture, and carriages. Many foreigners of high degree came there,
and were always received with cordial hospitality whatever the
season of the year might be ; for, until the existence of railways, many
of the great &milies lived in their villas and country-houses close to
the town, or even in the suburbs or in summer resorts on the green
and smiling slopes of the * Wiener Wald,' a chain of wooded hills
which encircles Vienna on the south and west. The waters of CSarls*
bad, so fashionable up to the beginning of the sixties, were a favourite
meeting-place for aristocratic Europe. Princes, statesmen, and
diplomats went there, and many members of great Austrian families,
also some of the bankers and rich merchants came from the capital ;
but these latter formed a completely different society, for then, as
now, the line was clearly and firmly drawn, and when Viennese society
is spoken of, it must be understood that it means the score or two
of noble families, some of which have been mentioned, and that no
exception is made to this rule.
A second society does exist ; it is wealthy and very fashionable,
and said to be amusing, and some of the young men belonging to the
fiist society frequent it. It consists of bankers, artists, merchants,
architects, engineers, actors, employes, and o£Gicers, with their famiUes.
The only occasions on which the two societies meet are the great
public charity balls ; but even then they have hardly any intercourse.
The predecessor of the Emperor Francis Joseph was the Emperor
Ferdinand — a prince of weak intellect, during whose reign a regular
and unvaried routine had been maintained at Court. The year was
portioned out between Vienna, Schonbrunn, and Laxenburg, the
three imperial palaces, all of them only a few miles distant from each
other. All the Archdukes followed this example, spending their
winters in old-fashioned stateHness in Vienna, and the summers in
the extremest simplicity in their country-houses. This curious
combination is very distinctive of Austrian Ufe, even to this day.
When the yoxmg Emperor at the age of eighteen came to the throne
through an understanding between his mother and his aunt the Empress,
his eyes opened on troubled waters, for it was in the midst of the
Hungarian revolution ; but he was full of hope and courage, and to
youth everything seems possible. His chivalrous manners, his kind-
ness and great charm won every heart, and under his impulse the
troubles were soon forgotten, and Vienna became gayer than ever.
The Emperor loved dancing, and acquitted himself of it with supreme
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grace and elegance. Through many cold winter nights the windows
of the old * Burg ' shone witib a thousand candles, and the strains of
the graceful trois-temps and mazurkas filtered out into the frozen air,
and the faithful Viennese rejoiced at the thought that their young
Emperor was enjo}dng himself.
In 1864, six years after his accession, the Emperor married the
Duchess Elizabeth in Bavaria, his first cousin. The slight pale girl,
barely seventeen, with the marvellous crown of chestnut hair, did not
then give the promise of the incomparable loveUness which dazzled
Europe for so many years. She had been brought up with Spartan
simpUcity amongst the mountains and the woods of her native country,
and she came with diffidence to take the place of the first lady of a
society which was known to be the proudest and the most exclusive
of the whole world. It has been said that the great ladies of that day
discovered a flaw in the pedigree of the young Princess, and, con-
ceiving themselves to be better bom than her, made her feel it. This
circumstance, many think, accounts for the dislike the Empress has
always shown for Vienna and its society. The poUtical events of the
Emperor Francis Joseph's reign are too well known to require repeti-
tion ; but it is not to be wondered at that a Sovereign who ascended
his throne during the terrible Hungarian episode — who, ten years
later, was compelled to sign the disastrous Peace of Villafranca ; who,
in 1866, ended a seven days' war with Sadowa and the cession of
Venice, and the year after was doomed to see his brother Maximilian
perish in the most tragic and humiliating way, and for whom the
utmost Umits of grief and shame were reached in the mysterious, in-
comprehensible, and shocking death of his only son — should bear upon
his brow the impress of these storms. (When these lines were written,
the cruel, wanton assassination of the Empress had not yet been
committed, nor could in these pages allusion be made to the many
minor family misfortunes which have at times befallen one of the
best of men and most conscientious of monarchs.) The lines about the
Emperor's forehead and mouth are very sad, but courage and above
all resignation look out of his blue eyes, and now and then, when
talking to his children and grandchildren, flashes of gaiety light
them up. The highest and the most rigorous sense of duty is the
mainspring of the Emperor's character. At his writing-table every
morning by five o'clock, he despatches all his business himself, and
when the press of work is very great his meals are brought in to him
on a tray, and eaten in a perfunctory fashion. I have heard it said
that at times the food is not very good ; but the Emperor, instead of
scolding, simple remarks to his A.D.C. : ' Tou are a lucky man ; you
can go to the club and get another dinner.'
After the Crown Prince Rudolph's death, the Empress, who imtil
then had made short appearances at the Court balls, and also assisted
at a few dinners given at the * Burg,' retired altogether from the world,
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and the Emperor had alone to bear the brunt of these receptions.
He did so from the first with miflinching courage, his slight, straight
figure as erect as ever, and addressing all those present with his usual
courtesy and bonhomie. The Empress, whose transcendent beauty
and great love of solitude have made her such an object of romantic
curiosity to all strangers who visit Vienna, used for many years to give
heiself up entirely to riding and hunting. So fond was she of this
latter pastime, that it was reported that a visit to Ireland was the
promise held out to her if she would consent to assist at the Court
festivities given in honour of some foreign Sovereign. Later on,
when she lost her nerve, she carried on fencing with the same keenness,
and at last it was mountaineering which claimed her energies. She
could walk from smirise to sundown over the Styrian Alps, refreshing
herself only with a glass of milk and sleeping on the fragrant hay in
the loft of a mountain hut. The Hungarians were always the pre-
ferred of the Empress, she learnt to speak their language, and resided
much at Budapest, where, after C!ount Beust had created the dual
system, nearly all the rich and brilliant Magyars had withdrawn.
This naturally dealt a great blow to Viennese society, for many
of the Bohemian nobles followed suit and went to Uve at Prague,
loudly declaring that th^ country also ought to be recognised as a
separate monarchy.
Viennese society therefore now consists mainly of families be-
knging to the German provinces and a very few from the other
parts of the Empire who have remained attached to the old order. Its
munbers fluctuate from two to three hundred. This does not include
the diplomatic corps or many high officials, civil and miUtary, who,
though bidden to Court festivities, never appear at the smaller social
reunions at private houses.
Every winter during the carnival two Court baUs are given. The
first one, which is styled ' ball by Hof,' includes from 1,500 to 2,000
persons. No invitations are issued for it ; a simple announcement
that the ball will take place is sent to all those who are entitled to go
to Court. The second ball' is called ' Hofball,' and to it only the
Site of society and the corps diplomatique are convened by a formal
invitation. It ends with a supper at small tables, at each of which a
member of the imperial family presides, the ladies of highest rank
being told ofl to the Emperor's table, the corresponding gentlemen
to that of the Empress or the Archduchess who represented her.
These small Court balls were very brilliant indeed, but quite informal,
and no ' cercle ' preceded them. The young ladies (Contessen) were
generally there in good time, standing in a compact phalanx in
front of their mothers, seated on the benches to the right of the throne.
' Contess ' is the term by which any young lady of rank is designated
at ^enna, be she a princess or a countess. On these occasions they
were all dressed more or less aUke, in very fresh and well-fitting tulle
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218 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Aug.
dresseSy with little pluah capes identical in shape, but differing in
ooloui. Around them, walking or standing, were the dancing men,
all of them officers, with a card and pendl in hand making up their
books. Involuntarily one was reminded of a saddling paddock.
When the ' fanfare ' announced the approach of the Court, the capes
all flew off like a flash of lightning, and were stuffed away under the
sofas, on the knees of the mammAa — anywhere in fact, all the Contessen
faced round in a row and stood ready for the race, which began at
once with a spirited waltz.
These balls were given in the large room added on to the Burg for
the Congress of 1816. The walls are of white stucco, and a row of
fine yellow scagliola columns runs right around the room. The space
between the waJIs a^d the columns is filled with hundreds of blossoming
shrubs, and though the room is not beautiful, it looked very brilliant
with its many crystal chandeUers, studded with hundreds of wax
candles, and the assemblage I saw before me justified its reputation
of being the most aristocratic society in Europe. They certainly all
looked gentlemen and ladies, with a great air and good manners, and
they moved and stood naturally and with grace. The ladies were
covered with fine family jewels in old settings, to which the well-
developed expanse of their persons afforded ample room. The men
were in uniform, and those in Hungarian costume looked particularly
well, and outvied their wives in the gorgeousness and size of the
precious stones they wore. The Empress took her seat on a raised
sofa, the Austrian ladies sitting on the benches on one side of her,
and on the other side were the Archduchesses, Ambassadresses, and
any foreign Princess who might happen to be at Vienna. About ten
o'clock tea was taken by the Empress at a large round table to which
a dozen ladies were convened, and on the return from this we found
the cotillon had already begun. It is dancad standing, and lasts two
hours. The Contessen never show the sUghtest sign of fatigue. The
figures of the cotillon were the prettiest and the best executed I have
ever seen, and they were danced with the precision of a military
manoBuvre. A score of Contessen tear to the other end of the room
like a charge of cavalry, and then get back to their places through
the most intricate mazes in the nick of time, without ever making a
mistake. Strauss's band played with the greatest spirit and entrain^
whilst the patient and exemplary mothers on the benches never
took their eyes off their sprightiy daughters. These balls begin
precisely at eight o'clock and end at midnight.
Viennese society is almost one vast family, and there are few
belonging to it who are not related to nearly all the others. Putting
official rank on one side, their respective positions would come in
this order : — ^The Liechtensteins, being a still reigning family, come
first. After them the mediatised princes, i.e. those who at one time
exercised sovereign rights directly under the Holy Roman Empire.
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1906 VANISHING VIENNA 219
These have the privilege of intermarrying with royal houses on an
equal footing. Thus the daughter of the Duke of Croy has become
an Archduchess. The next in rank are the Austrian princes create
after 1806. Then there are mediatised counts and also counts of the
Holy Boman Empire. The title of baron is almost unknown in this
society ; it is reserved for the hauie finance, and is considered specially
Semitic.
In order to be received at Court it does not suffice to belong to a
noble family, it is absolutely necessary to have irreproachable quarter-
ings. The most curious compUcations sometimes ensue. A young
lady who had always gone to Court, as she belonged to one of the
best families, married Count R , who, though belonging to the
aristocracy, was not ' hofiEahig ' : that is, he could not go to Court,
lus mother not having been of noble birth, and his wife had to share
his fate. A few years after their marriage, Count R accepted
some official position, and received from the Emperor what is termed
a ' Handbillet,' a letter making him ' hof^hig,' allowing him to go
to Court. His wife, who had the right by her birth was not,
however^ permitted to accompany him. These Imperial 'Hand-
billets,' called so because they are written by the Emperor himself,
sometimes grant the right to go to Court for Uf e, but often only during
official tenure. Many of the ministers and high functionaries spring
from the middle class, and though they go to Court they never mix
otherwise in society. The one brilUant exception to this rule is that
of the late Count Hiibner, once ambassador in Paris during the second
Empire, and later on to the Vatican, who, though being of humble
birth, managed, with the protection of Prince Mettemich and infinite
patience, tact, and good fortune, to penetrate into the inmost circles.
It is natural that, in a society thus composed, mere wealth counts
for nothing, and that the introduction of new elements on this basis
would be quite impossible. Daughters of great houses, however
numerous, plain, or poor they may be, never dream of marrying out-
side their order to secure a rich husband. Even if they had the wish
to do so, the opportunity would be lacking, as they only meet the
men belonging to their set. In some very rare cases the younger
acms of impoverished families have been constrained by debt and
extravagance to seek salvation in a money marriage ; but then they
retire into the country or Uve abroad, as their wives would not be
leoeived. Nearly all the great families who compose Viennese society
have large means to keep up a good style of Uving. Those who can-
not keep pace with the others retire to the country. Thus a few years
ago Uie head of one princely house was completely ruined by racing,
betting, and gambling, and he, together with his wife and children,
left their fine town palace and retired to their chateau in the country,
never to be heard of or seen again. Qambling and betting are a great
Boourge in Viennese society, and nearly all the young men get hit
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220 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Aug.
hard at one time or another. The Emperor has been most desirous
of stopping it ; but in vain, for this passion is deeply ingrained in the
blood of the Teutonic race. I am told the gambUng in Austria and
Germany is much higher than in any other country. It is, however,
only fair to say that, whenever the crash comes, all the friends and
relations rush to the rescue to help to the best of their abiUty. The
feeling of soUdarity is very great.
Vienna is probably the most expensive capital in Europe for
people of high rank, as you pay there according to position. Nobody
belonging to society, however badly off, could think of going in any-
thing but a two-horse /aor6, the shortest fare being a florin. Most
men, whether married or single, keep dk fiacre (a matter of three or
four hundred a year), irrespective of their own stables. Many ladies
use fiacres in the evening to save their horses from standing in the
bitter cold winds and blinding sleet of a Viennese winter's night.
Most newcomers who enter a Viennese drawing-room would probably
be struck by the extreme simpUcity in the dress of the ladies, and it
would not occur to them that to secure these garments, prices are
paid in excess of anything in Paris or London. These clothes are
remarkable for their extraordinary good fit and their exceeding fresh-
ness. The girls especially always look as if they had come out of band-
boxes, and as if their dresses had grown upon them.
Large dinner-parties are confined to the diplomatic and official
circles, but the Austrians dine out a good deal amongst themselves
in a quiet, unostentatious way. At some houses a large circle of rela-
tions flocks in almost daily, without any particular invitation. The
way of Uving is eminently patriarchal ; the large retinue of servants,
badly paid, but well cared for, generally all comes from their masters'
estates.
After all dinner-parties, even the great oflScial ones, everybody,
ladies included, retires to the smoking-room. One's aesthetic sense is
rather i^hocked, by seeing a beautiful young woman, with bare shoulders
and blazing tiara, Ughting a big cigar over a lamp. The first thing a
man does when he gets engaged is to request leave from his future
mother-in-law for his fiam/oee to smoke. Many girls, however, do not
wait for this moment, and anticipate, and there are evening parties
of nothing but ^ Contessen ' where the fumes of havannas have been
seen hovering in the air. Until quite lately the usual dinner hours
were &om four to six o'clock, this latter being quite the latest and
most fashionable time, for everybody had boxes at the Burg and the
Opera, and these begin at seven and have to be over by ten, as that is
the charmed moment at which all who do not live in a house of
their own have to be back, unless they wish to be mulcted of the sum
of ten kreutzers. Every porter closes his door punctually at ten,
and the ten kreutzers are his perquisite. When, some years ago, the
question was mooted of putting back the closing time to eleven o'clock.
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1906 VANISHING VIENNA 221
iheie was a revolt amongst the porters, and the authorities had to
give in.
In spite of the pleasure-loving reputation of the Viennese, there
are few theatres, and it is only the large subsidies the Emperor gives
to the Burg Theatre and the Opera which makes it possible for them to
exist. A new ballet or an opera of Wagner's always commands a full
attendance, but at a classical play or an opera of Oluck's or Mozart's
the house is nearly empty, though the acting and singing are first-
rate. The most prominent actors of the Burg are Messrs. Levinsky
and Sonnenthal, who to their own individual talent unite a thorough
knowledge of the stage. At the opera such representations as Misisse-
net's Manon with Vandyke and Mdlle. R^nard in the principal parts
can hardly be rivalled anywhere. The younger sporting generation
do, however, not care for the theatre. They like dining late, and then
meet in small sets and play b^zique or less innocent games. The men
go a good deal to the club, where their conversation is entirely of racing
and shooting. The Austrian shoots nearly all the year round, and all
his faculties are devoted to this pursuit. He does not mind how
much he roughs it or what weather he is exposed to. He is nearly
always a good shot, and so are some of the ladies, who often accompany
their husbands on their expeditions. Princess Pauline Mettemich is
a great proficient in this Une. The chamois shooting begins in August,
ai^ is succeeded by stag and roe-deer, partridge and pheasant, with
ground game, all through the autumn and early winter. Then comes
tiie bear and wild boar season, and in February, amongst mountains
of snow, the arduous shooting of the hinds. When this is barely
over the stalking of the capercailzieB b^[ins. In order to secure this
wily bird at the moment at which he sings his lovesong to his mate
at the break of day, whilst she is sitting on her nest, it is necessary to
get up between one and two a.m., and to scramble for hours up-hill in
the dark. Many men do this for the six weeks during which the
' Balzing ' season lasts. They live in the most elementary log-huts,
existing on the coarsest food, and return to their homes perfectly
attenuated.
The only time during which it is possible to count with any certainty
on the presence of young men in Vienna is at the time of the races,
which begin in April and go on with short intervals all through May till
the end of June. This is the really briUiant time of the "N^enna season,
when the young sporting world come to the capital for a short spell of
amusement. Sport of every kind is what really hypnotises the
Austiians, and they are also fond of games, but they are not nearly so
adroit or athletic as the English. They are devoted to horses and
dogs, and are good and judicious riders ; but the hunting which had
been started at the Empress's instigation came to an end when the
Emperor withdrew his support, and there is only one private pack of
harriers in the monarchy, and this belongs to Count Larisch Moennich.
Vot. Lvni— No. a42 Q
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222 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Aug.
If an Austrian travels, which is a very rare oocuirenoe, it is sure to be
in order to shoot lions or tigers, but otherwise they are the most
stay-at-home people of the whole world. The Austrian loves to be in
the open air. The first thing that strikes the foreigner are the numbers
of cafis in the Prater. They are crowded all the summer through.
There the Viennese shopkeepers breakfast, dine, and sup, imbibing
the most fabulous quantities of beer and oafS au lait, and smoking
all the time whilst a band plays a waltz, a czardash, or a march.
There is one aristocratic restaurant in the Prater which goes under
the name of ' Constantin Huegel,' and as long as anybody in society
is left it is much frequented in spite of the plague of mosquitoes that
infests it. There is no other capital whidi becomes as thoroughly
empty and deserted as Vienna does in the summer. Even the smallest
tradesman goes with his family to the country, and the aspect of
the broad two-mile-long Prater Avenue under a sweltering August
sun, with the accompanying clouds of huge mosquitoes, is the most
desolate thing one can imagine. The climate of ^enna is neither
healthy nor agreeable and, for thos^ who live there always, rather
exhausting. Whether it be owing to this or the too frequent inter-
marriages amongst the Austrian aristocracy or the very small circle
of interests bred by the extreme exclusiveness in which they live, it
must be conceded that charming, amiable, and kind though they be,
Viennese society is pervaded by a great moral indolence and a want
of energy and initiative.
Politics, reUgion, literature, art, and science are hardly ever alluded
to in general talk. The Viennese ' Salon ' (annual exhibition) is far
below that of Munich, both in number of pictures and excellence of
merit. There are exquisite concerts, but none but the middle-class
frequent them. Most Austrians are musical, but they do not cultivate
their talent. Occasionally you hear a young man, after a small and
ifUime dinner, strumming, among clouds of smoke, a waltz or galop
on the piano. The ladies hardly ever play or sing, and seem to care
less for music than the men.
Referring to the constant intermarriages, there is no doubt that
they often have most injurious effects, and they ought to be pro-
hibited, especially those of uncles to their nieces, of which there are
some examples. Somehow these marriages seem to be less deteriorating
to the mind than to the physique, as some of the most intelligent,
agreeable, and gifted couples of the Austrian nobiUty belong to his-
torical famihes which have constantly intermarried for more than
two hundred years. Love marriages are the only unions known at
Vienna and admitted. The daughters of great bmihes have small
fortunes, for everything is entailed on the eldest son. Beauty, charm,
and goodness are the only dower these young ladies bring tiieir hus-
bands. It sometimes happens that a young Austrian chooses a bride
in the German Empire, or even a foreigner. If the young lady is
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1906 VANISHING VIENNA 228
weU-bom, well-bted, and simple, she is at once received with open
arms. The one thing Viennese society most heartily detests are airs
of affectation, and if anybody is suspected of indulging in them it
is hopeless for that person to think of getting on. In this peculiarity
lies the whole secret of the popularity of some people. Diplomats
often do not like Vienna. They have a difficult part to play, and,
especially those who represent Bepubhcan Oovemments are looked
upon with coldness and distrust.
Exceptions to this rule are, however, every now and then made
in favour of those endowed with good manners, distinguished appear-
ance and a modest, retiring behaviour. In a society so closely
united by the bonds of relationship, where rank is so clearly defined,
every member knows its own place, and there can be no unseemly
straggling or pushing, as takes place too often in more mixed com-
munities. Snobbishness is also a thing unknown, for the reverence
which Austrians have for good birth can hardly be designated as such.
To them it is a law, nay, almost a rehgion, which if taken from them
would make them feel as if they were landed on a quicksand.
Another thing which makes it sometimes difficult for foreigners
to get into Viennese society is the language, as Qerman is now almost
tmiversally spoken, and the younger generation is not at all proficient
in French. The ladies as a rule acquire a smattering of English
from their prameneusesy a kind of daily governess, only engaged
to take the ' Contessen * out walking. Things were very different
fifty years ago, when Princess Lory Schwarzenberg was the queen of
society. All conversation was then carried on in French. The
ladies who do so now belong to a former generation, and the type
was mainly represented by three sisters, daughters of a princely
house who were a power in Vienna. The youngest of them. Countess
Clam GkJlas, held for many years, by dint of her grace, intelligence
and kindness, the sceptre laid down by Princess Lory. The saion
of her elder sister is accounted the most exclusive one of the capital.
A score of habitu&s resort there every other evening, and this illustrious
conclave has been nicknamed the 'Olympus.' To be one of the
elect impUes that you are at least a demigod. Another clique goes
by the name of the ' Ciousinage,' and is formed mainly by the members
and relations of the powerful Liechtenstein family. If one of them
dies the whole of society is paralysed for the time being, and to obviate
this all mournings are shortened considerably. It does not, however,
prevent their tears from flowing, for kindness of heart is the funda-
mental virtue of this society. It is quite enough for anybody to
be in trouble that all their faults and shortcomings should be for-
gotten, and everybody flock around them with proffered help and
sympathy.
The one form of amusement dear to every Viennese heart is dancing.
The young ladies think and talk of nothing else during the season,
q2
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224 THE NINETEENTH CENTUB7 Aug.
and everything is sacrificed to tbe amusement and wishes of the
^ Gontessen.' They are quite the dominant party, though of late a few
of the young married women have shown signs of revolt, for they not
only come to town, but they actually have the hardihood to dance !
At every ball and party the * Contessen ' have a room set apart for
them, into which no married man or woman may penetrate. They go
to this room the moment they arrive, and if it bea party they are not
seen again until they leave. At balls the * Contessen ' always move
about in bands of six or seven, linking arms. They never sit about
with men as other girls do, but the moment the music b^[ins they
stand up in rows, three or four deep, for the dancers to choose from.
As the * Contessen * are very numerous, their partners are not allowed^
to take more than one turn with them, so as to give the less popular
girls a chance. After every dance there is a stampede for refresh-
ments, which stand about on different tables in neariy every room.
At supper the young ladies develop appetites only to be compared to
their endurance in the dance. Quite different is the fate of the devoted
mother. If once she succeeds in capturing a chair in the ballroom, no
bli^pdishments of any kind, no hopes of whist or pangs of hunger, will
ever move her again. She would rather die than miss seeing how
many turns her Finny takes with Sepperl T , and how many
more bouquets Fannerl S— gets than Mimi L .
The * Contessen ' have an enchanting time of it before they marry.
They dance, they ride, they smoke, they shoot, they go to races,
they have expensive hats and frocks, they eat as many sweetmeats
as Ihey Uke every afternoon at Demmel's shop ; in fact, there is nothing
that they wish for which is refused to them. They sometimes have
the appearance of being very fast, but the moment they marry they
become the best and the most devoted wives. Without a regret
they follow their husbands into the country, and often only reappear
again when they have a daughter to bring out.
It strikes strangers as very curious that girls brought up in severely
religious and strictly moral households should be allowed to go to
every race for weeks together. Such, however, is the case. In
freshest dresses of latest fashion the ' Contessen * crowd together in
the passages and on the steps of the grand stand or walk about in
bevies in the enclosure.
Society flocks to these races in great numbers. The weather is
g^ierally fine in May, and the racecourse, which Ues between the
greater and the lesser Danube, is a pretty one. Most of the men
and some of the ladies bet very heavily. For those who wish to be
moderate the MaUsateur is an easy solution. Many of the great
bankers and merchants go to these races, accompanied by their wives,
but there, as everywhere else, the separation from the society of which
we treat here is absolute. The return from the races is one of the
sights of Vienna. The long Prater Avenue is filled with carriages,
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1906 VANISHING VIENNA 225
ihiee or four abreast, most of them horsed with very fast Hmigarian
^yokkers/ tearing and careering along as fast as tiiey can lay 1^
to the ground. The coachmen hold the reins in two hands at arms'
length, shouting, laughing, and splashed from head to foot, which is
supposed to be the acme of chic. In the evening the racing set meets
again at drums and dances, given at some hotel, but here young
ladies are excluded.
Though nearly every great family has its palace at Vienna, few
of them entertain, but picnic balls are very much the fashion. They
are so popular because everybody can do as they like, and that is
what suits the temper of Viennese society. The finest private balls
ate those of the Marquis Pallavidni, a rich Hungarian magnate,
whose handsome wife, wreathed in priceless jewels, receives the Court
and sodety in spacious and profusely gilt halls. The Harrach and
Schonbom palaces are renowned for their beautiful and costly ap-
pointments, dating from the days of Maria Theresa, whose prosperous
reign gave a great impulse to architecture, and there is Uttle that is
good in Vienna left of an earlier date. People who do not possess
houses of their own Uve in flats. As they never receive, it is difficult
to penetrate into these apartments, unless you are a relation or an
intimate friend. No casual visitor is ever admitted, which, I imagine,
accounts a good deal for the strict morahty of society. The excuse
always given by the servant who opens the door, no matter at what
hour of the day, is that the lady is at her toilet. The Ambassadresses,
the Mistress of the Robes, and the wives of one or two high officials
have days, but if anybody else presumes to take one they are con-
adered forward. Amongst themselves the Viennese are in and out
of each other's houses all day long. However occupied a married
daughter may be, she is supposed to find time to visit her mother
during the day. Whenever they meet, even at a dinner-party or
a ball, the daughter respectfully kisses her mother's hand. This
holds good in the case of aunts and nieces, and indeed nearly all the
girls would kiss the hand of the lady to whose house they go, if she
were a relation or an intimate friend of their mothers.
All the women, of all ages, address each other with ' thou,' and for
the men the rule is the same. In the army it is even made obUgatory.
A girl writing to an older woman would begin her letter thus : —
'Honoured Princess, — ^Mamma hopes thou wilt,' &c. If there is a
shadow of relationship, men and women always use the ' thou ' in
speaking to each other as well as Christian names. If a lady of a
certain age and rank shakes hands with a man, he always kisses it
as a sign of respect. Everybody is called and addressed by a diminutive
or nickname which is utterly bewildering to a stranger, and the general
topics of conversation being family affairs and purely local gossip,
carried on in Viennese jargon, it is utterly incomprehensible to the
uninitiated.
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226 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Aug.
The Austiians bring up theii ohildren at home. The sons have
tutors till they go to the Univetmty or into the army. This latter
profession, diplomacy, and internal administration are the only careers
open to young mei^ of good family. Abb6s are not, as in France,
tutors in families, and the clergy play no part in social Ufe. Except
occasionally some cardinal of high degree at a dinner-party, no Church
dignitary ever appears in society. The Austrian ladies are strictly
rehgious and severe in the observance of Church rites. It would
be impossible to give dinners on Fridays, as is done in Italy, for all
the women fast. The men, though less bound by forms, are extremely
respectful in their attitude towards reUgion. This example is set
by the Emperor, who at Easter, before the assembled Court, washes
on his knees the feet of twelve old men, and at Corpus Domini
walks bareheaded through the streets of Vienna accompanied by all
the great dignitaries of the realm, and devoutly kneels before
the many altars erected on the way. In former days the Empress
and all her ladies joined in the procession, in full Court dress, with
their diamonds ghttering on their hair, and bare shoulders and arms,
and those who remember this say it was a sight worth seeing.
A great deal is done in Vienna for the poor. There are many
practical and widespread organisations, headed by all the great ladies.
The number of charity balls during the carnival is something appalling.
At these festivities the lady patronesses sit on a raised dais, and one
or two of the Archdukes grace the entertainment. The dancing
pubUc consists entirely of the middle class. The prettiest ball of this
kind is the artists' ball, which is always in fancy dress. The walls
of the spacious rooms are every year decorated in a new way with
great talent and skill. Sometimes they represent Alpine scenery,
at others the bottom of the sea, a tropical region or a medieBval town.
Painters, sculptors, musicians, poets, actors, architects, and engineers
are to be seen there with their famiUes in picturesque or comic dis-
guises. The week after this ball has taken place a pubUc sale of all
the decorations, ornaments, furqiture, &c., takes place, and often
the things go for fabulous prices. They are all clever imitations of
real objects, and are called in Viennese dialect * gehnaas.'
Princess Mettemich, a lady of extraordinary wit, prodigious energy
and resource, sets every year some chwtable scheme on foot when
the spring approaches. Sometimes it is a fete in the Prater, some-
times an exhibition or tableaux vivarUs. The proceeds go to the
hospitals and the poor.
The incUnation to remain at their country seats gains ground very
much with the Austrian nobiUty . In spite of this, few of them are good
administrators, as their native indolence and easy-going disposition
prevent them looking into their affairs. Sport fills up all their time.
They are not great readers, nor do they take the sUghtest interest
in what happens in the world at large. Even the affairs of the Empire
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1906 VANISHING VIENNA 227
ait very lightly on their consciousness. They Uve contentedly in
the midst of their large family circle, in comfortable but unpretending
affluence. Intimate friends are always welcome, but invitations
are seldom extended to mere acquaintances, an exception being,
however, made for those English who come to Austria in search of
sport which their own country does not offer. They are always most
hospitably received. It is difficult for anybody who has not hved
in it to imagine a society of this stamp, and those who only see the
outside of it are apt to form a wrong estimate. The extraordinary
exclusiveness of the Austrian aristocracy is not a matter of pride : it
IB one of habit. The people who compose the second society would
not wish to enter the first, as they would not feel at home in it, and
the rare artists and Uterary men who sometimes are asked to great
houses are more bored than flattered by these attentions, as it
obliges them to don evening clothes and tears them away from their
beloved pipes and Filsen beer.
Prejudiced as many may be in these go-ahead Hmes against a
society so narrowly restricted, there is nobody who, once having
passed the charmed boundary, does not appreciate the lovable
qualities of those that form it ; and whatever changes years may have
wrought in its outward forms, the intrinsic quahties must remain,
and they are most attaching, for they consist of kindness of heart,
purity of Ufe, frankness, and extreme simpUcity.
Walbebqa Fagbt.
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228 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Aug.
MADAME TALLIEN
* C'bst demain qu'on me tue ! N'fetes-vous done qu'un lache ? ' The
wild words of a distracted woman — ^yomig and singularly beautiful —
written in her prison of death, and surreptitiously conveyed to her
faithful lover outside : ' To-morrow they kill me ! Are you then
merely a coward % '
The prison was La Force, in the Marais, Paris, and the note was
passed out on the eve of the historic ninth Thermidor, year II. of
the RepubUc (1794), The Reign of Terror had imperceptibly reached
its culmination, and the writer of the note was merely one of a crowd
of victims selected and listed for slaughter on the following day. She
was Th^r^zia, daughter of C!ount Gabarros, Spanish by birth, but
of French origin.
Before the Revolution she had lived at Bordeaux with her husband,
the Marquis de Fontenay; during the Revolution both were cast
into prison there, on some suspicion of aristocratic leanings, and
some proof of an intention to fly into Spain. There existed, appar-
ently, no more definite charges against them, but at the time slight
suspicion was enough to entail arrest, and arrest commonly meant
condemnation and death.
The Communists and Jacobins, with Robespierre at their head,
were in power, and twenty one thousand local Revolutionary Com-
mittees, each with its staff of mercenary or voluntary spies and
informers, were scattered all over France, exercising everywhere
more authority than was ever possessed by a French king, or exceeded
by a Roman tyrant in the worst days of the ancient city. Acknow-
ledging no responsibiUty to the nominal government and National
Convention in Paris, they carried on their inquisitorial and murderous
work without check, and regardless of every principle of justice, and
every rule of law and evidence. Their efficiency and patriotism
were manifested by more and more arrests and more and more execu-
tions, and when more open and outspoken opponents became scarce
they filled their prisons with those whom they chose — often on the
slightest or most absurd grounds — ^to consider ' suspects.'
But Madame de Fontenay was a woman of exceptional grace
and beauty, and her personal charms saved the Uves of herself and
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1906 MADAME TALLIEN 229
her husband. She fasoinated the young and terrible prooonsul,
Tallien, who had been sent from Paris to Bordeaux in order to purge
that region of any leaven of royalism which might have survived
the wholesale slaughter of the Girondist deputies. Four years pre-
viously he had casually seen and admired Madame de Fontenay,
when she was already a marquise and he a white-bloused workman
in a Paris printing-office. In the new order of things, the all-powerful
Tallien was the only man strong enough to save her and her husband
from death.
He saved them, but she had to pay the price — ^a price which
many an unfortunate poor woman, similarly situated, in those
days, was obliged to pay, or, in the alternative, die in her pride
or piety.
Lowness of origin and vileness of soul were characteristics of
the majority of the revolutionary extremists, and that majority
might well have claimed Tallien. His parents were domestic servants,
he had been reared in the gutters of the Marais quarter of Paris, and,
in after-years, was often referred to (scornfully but not untruly)
as ' Ge gamin de Paris.' That was his origin ; his texture of soul
may be judged by his traffic with the helpless and distressed Marquise
de Fontenay. At Bordeaux she became bis loathing mistress ; later
on in Paris, in 1794, his reluctant wife, according to Republican
forms of marriage.
His tyrant mission at Bordeaux ended, he took Madame de
Fontenay with him to Paris. There Robespierre, and his other
friends and colleagues, contemplated with a suspicious eye his rela-
tions with and interest in this woman of the aristocracy. To rescue
him from contamination they caused her to be again arrested, thrown
into La Force, and condemned to die. It was then that she sent
oat that last despairing cry to her protector: *N'^tes-vous done
qu'on lache ? '
TaUien was no coward, and was far from indifferent to the fate
of his beloved mistress. But what could he do ? What could she
expect him to do ? Already he had deeply compromised himself
with his friends for her sake, and it had only been by an exaggerated
display of revolutionary faith and sentiments that he had been able
to some extent to recover the ground he had lost on her account.
He dared not renew efforts on her behalf — they would have been
worse than useless to her, and probably fatal to himself.
But he did not abandon all hope, though it was only the vague
hope of possibly discovering some means by which she might yet
be saved. Through the instrumentality of his mother, concierge
in the Rue de la Perle, another concierge of a house close to the
prison walls had been induced to allow him secret access to a garret
from the window of which he could daily see and salute the woman
in whose fate he took an agonised interest, and could communicate
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280 THE NINETEENTH CENTVBY Aug.
with her by signs and occasional brief notes. Innumerable ideas
and schemes of rescue were mooted, but nothing practical was decided
upon before all hopes of prison evasion were crushed by the terrible
news conveyed to him in her brief note of the eighth Thermidor :
' To-morrow they kill me ! '
The critical moment had arrived ; only counsels of despair were
possible; all the savage within the man was aroused, to the exclusion
of every pther emotion or consideration.
TalUen, whatever his faults or vices might be, was not wanting
in boldness and resolution. He was capable, under provocation,
of manifesting the dauntless and desperate courage of an enraged
bull. Here was, for him, provocation the most extreme and irresistible.
He saw plainly — for there was nothing else to see — that the only
chance for the woman was a complete and immediate revolution
in the actual condition of state affairs — in the violent and prompt
overthrow of Robespierre and the Jacobin domination. Undaunted,
he contemplated the gigantic and abnost hopeless task, and unhesi-
tatingly resolved to attempt it. He would make a revolution to
save a woman's Ufe, or, failing, accompany her to the scaffold.
The morning of the 9th Thermidor — ' le jour de flamme ' — arrived ;
the tumbrils were being made ready to carry to the guillotine the
thirty-six victims who were to constitute that day's holocaust. In
the Place de la Revolution the executioner and his assistants were
arranging the dreadful machinery of slaughter. The National Con-
vention was to be in session to listen to its master Robespierre pro-
pounding some fresh measure for more repression and more blood-
shed.
Theretofore the Convention had been the humble and trembling
servants of the Jacobins. In it there were two hundred members
who, with the recent fate of the Girondist deputies in mind, had never
dared to give expression to an independent thought or opinion likely
to offend — who, in both a figurative and a Uteral sense, had never
dared to call their souls their own, even when required to join in the
new and fantastic religious worship invented by the philosophical
fanatics.
But to-day there was a strange coolness and reserve in the assembly,
as St. Just, Robespierre, and others of that faction addressed it. The
bearing of the members seemed to suggest the prevalence of a senti-
ment that the Terrorists had gone far enough — ^perhaps that they
had gone too far, and should go no further. It even looked as if a
storm of revolt was brewing in that placid and silent assembly, and
might well burst forth if only there was a man present bold and
desperate enough to excite and direct it.
The man was there, and — of aU others ! — a man who had been
deeply compromised in the worst and foulest work of the Communists
and Jacobins — in the massacres of September and the slaughter
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1905 MADAME TALLIEN 281
of the pnsoneiB of Orleans — ^the butcher Vqui faisait trembler Bor-
deaux.'
Tallien vaulted into the arena with the air and gestures of a mad-
man. In the thundering accents of a Mirabeau or a Danton he called
upon the Convention to rise up and assert itself against the veiled
tyrants and conspirators who had ursurped its functions, reduced
it to a state of ignominy and slavery, and were drowning the Republic
in torrents of innocent blood.
With eyes on fire, boiling over with enfevered rage, amazing and inciting
the stupefied and trembling auditors, carr3dng edl before him in the torrent of
his impassioned eloquence, he succeeded in imparting fresh courage and reso-
lution, and new bone and nerve to the hitherto jelly-like assembly. And when
as a ripe and fitting climax, he seized Bobespierre by the throat and hurled him
from the tribune, no hand was stretched out to stay his maniacal career, and no
voice raised in protest. Perhaps without intending it — possibly without knowing
it at the moment — he had saved the Republic, France, the world. He had
aooomplished his purpose — he had made a revolution to snatch from death the
woman he loved. — (Len6tre.)
Later on it will be shown how he was rewarded.
The Reign of Terror was at an end ; the two-line note from the
trembling woman in La Force was its death-warrant. And it was
also the key which opened the prison doors of France to multitudes
who had expected nothing but death.
The tumbrils did not go out on that day of the 9th Thermidor,
and the services of the executioners waiting in the Place de la Revolu-
tion were not required. The tumbrils and the guillotine were, how-
ever, once again in requisition a few dajrs later when, as a seal of
blood to the Reign of Terror, Robespierre and twenty of his familiars
were sent to the doom to which they had consigned so many of their
fellow-creatures and fellow-citizens.
Tallien, ' the saviour of his country,' became for a time its master
and leader, and did it good service too both in civil and military
a&irs. He discovered, patronised and protected the young Bona-
parte, and lived long enough and sank low enough to need the patronage
—sparingly and grudgingly given — of his former prc^SgS. But
his rise and decline are not here in question, except in so far as they
were associated with the story of his wife.
That association, brilliant and glorious at the outset, was not
destined to last very long. Tallien himself was happy and content
enough in the possession of the most elegant and beautiful woman
in Paris, and, having nothing more to desire, formed and carried out
the design of abandoning public employment and returning into
private life with his great prize and modest fortune. For it is to
be counted to his credit that he did not make use of or abuse his
opportunities to acquire riches. His colleagues of the Revolution —
those of them who had survived its convulsions — ^had known how
to profit by it» according to their chances or tastes. Of the whole
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original gang, the sanguinary and implacable Robespiene was perhaps
the only one who can safely be said to have deserved the title of
* the Incorruptible.'
The estate of Brunnoy had gone to Boursault. Fouch6 had
Ferridres, Barras was like a king in the wide domains of Gros-Bois,
Merlin got the rich monastery of Mount Yal^en, Overard was all-
powerful by virtue of the milUons he had amassed — and so on with
many others. But TaUien had Th^r^zia, and esteemed himself, and
was esteemed by others, the most fortunate of all.
But the ci-devcmt Marquise de Fontenay did not take kindly
to the idea of ' love in a cottage,' though that cottage was the charm-
ing bower of the Chaumi^re, buried amidst the bloom and greenery
of the then rural suburban region where now stands the Show Palace
of the Trocadero. It was well enough at first, when TaUien could
afford grand fetes and when all fashionable Paris thronged to worship
at the shrine of the glorious Th^r^zia. It was good enough to have
been the wife of the hero of Thermidor and master of France. It
was not quite the same thing to be the wife of TaUien the extdnct
Terrorist, the man* without power or position, and whose fortune
was diminishing. The birth of a daughter — commemoratively
named Thermidor — did not reconcile her to the new situation, or
consoUdate her attachment to the father of her chUd. The memory
of the circumstances of her earliest association with him may account
in part for her growing distaste for the man who had twice saved
her hfe ; the debt of gratitude (where it is not forgotten) is not always
payable in love. Then there was always the fundamental difference
of caste between the high-bom lady and the lower-bom * gamin de
Paris.' She aspired to re-enter her proper social sphere, he was
graduaUy sinking back into his.
Be it as it may, the fact remains that one fine morning Th6r6zia
was missing from the Chaumi^re and never reappeared there.
One of TaUien's millionaire friends had put up a fairy-like palace
in the not very far-away Faubourg Saint-Germain. Madame TaUien
was invited to visit it, and was enchanted : ' Que c'est beau I ' she
exclaimed ; * le bonheur doit 6tre ici ! '
^ Madame, here is the key,' was the ready response of the gallant
donor, who might have been a courtier of the dajrs of Louis the Four-
teenth instead of an ex-revolutionist.
Then commenced a third chapter in the strange life of this woman
who had been Marquise de Fontenay, then Madame TaUien, and
now took back her maiden name of Th6r6zia Gabarros. Such a life
leaves upon one the impression of a long lapse of years, and it is
somewhat of a surprise to find, on chronological reference, that at
this time she was barely thirty years of age.
A foreign visitor to Paris, in 1802, who was introduced to her,
describes her as having a fine and imposing presence, and a small
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1905 MADAME TALLIBN 288
wen-shaped head» giving her an air of being taller than she really
was.
Her magnificent black hair slightly concealed her white forehead and hong
in rich tresseB over the back of her neck, where it was interlaced with ropes of
fine pearls. Her robe was of white satin covered with costly lace. She flitted
gracefully from table to table, now and then langhingly risking five or six loois
on a card. When she posed on her knees before a shy young girl, begging her
to sing^her little hands joined in supplication, her large eyes widely open — she
was an admirable model for a painter.
No doubt she was beautiful and graceful to a pre-eminent degree,
but the story of her Uf e does not disolose any of those high intellectual
and moral qualities which distinguished other conspicuons women
of the French Revolution.
She troubled no more about the deserted and broken-hearted
Talhen, unless to procure a divorce from him as soon as possible.
The fourth, and last and least eventful, chapter of her life opened
in 1806, when she married Prince de Caraman. Before this she had
become the mother of several children, besidee Thermidor. A daughter
was bom to her in 1800, a son in 1801, another daughter in 1802,
and still another in 1803. Her life, from 1806 onwards, appears
to have been quiet and happy. If its turbulent past was ever
recalled, she would say, with a sad smile : ' Qael roman ma vie !
Je n'y crois pins ! ' She did her best to forget it, and only
<mce more had she occasion to confront it and come into contact
with Tallien.
Their daughter Thermidor was about to be married to Count
de Narbonne-Pelet, and the official presence of her father at the cere-
mony was necessary. As this was very objectionable to all the
great personages interested in the event, the proceedings were simpli-
fied and made as private as possible. The degraded and despised
revolutionist went through the part assigned him with becoming
meekness and humility. When, with trembling hand and abashed
mien, he put his signature to the marriage register, did the poor man,
or that proud company, think of the similar occasion, not so very
many years before, when, as the leader of a gay and distinguished
C(mipany, he testified to the marriage of the couple who but for him
might never have been Emperor and Empress of France ?
The ceremony over, the grand princess who had once been his
wife — and something else— condescendingly offered him a seat in
her gala carriage as far as the Champs Mje^, in the vicinii^ of his
poverty-stricken dwelling. He accepted, and for the last time found
himself alone with her, driving in the streets through which, in the
dd days, they had rolled in triumph amidst the plaudits of a populace
acclaiming the couple who had made Thermidor a landmark in history,
and pat an end to the Reign of Terror.
On the 17th of November, 1820, the Paris joumab briefly announced
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284 THE NINETEENTH CENTUET Aug.
the death of Monsiear Tallien, the ex-Conventionalist, noting that
he had died in extreme poverty and in the midst of wretched snrround-
ings, and that in his last days he was only saved bom absolute starva-
tion by an almost too-late grant of a small annuity from the privy
purse of the king whose brother he had helped to dethrone and murder.
DoMiNioK Daly.
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AN AUTUMN WANDERING IN MOROCCO
OvsBLOOiONa the Atlantic Ocean not far from Cape Spartel a clnster
of mnd-and-thatcli cottages makes up the da/wwa/r or village of Seedee
Suleiman. Here, one evening towards the end of September, when
the son had dipped into the waves and the brief twilight was nearly
over, the present writer arrived, accompanied by two Moors. We
had left Tangier in the morning with no more definite aim than to
*8ee the wonders of the world abroad,' to admire the scenery, and to
view the famous Roman remains at Yolubilis, and the wonderful
mosque of the Karaweeyeen in Fez, should we get so far.
As to the personnel of the expedition, first there was Kasim, son
of Abderrahman Shatt. Kasim might have been anjrthing between
thirty and sixty years of age, and his complexion was nearly black,
partly, no doubt.
The shadowed livery of the banuBhed stm,
To whom he was a neighbour and near bred,
but partly, also, dirt. He was, Uke the Arabian Prophet, neither of
those who write nor of those who count, and had never learned to
lead. Abdallah, his companion, was somewhat better educated, for
although now unable to read, write or figure, he had, like nearly all
MusUms, learned to read the Korto at school, but the art had since
dipped from his memory. Moreover his two boys were learning to
read and recite as their father had done, and would no doubt in time,
like their faither, forget. Abdallah's humour was to Easim's what an
Englishman's is to a Scotsman's, and he was more chivalrous towards
women whom we passed on the road, addressing them as kkeitiy ^ my
little sister,' and sometimes giving them a Uft by the way at his own
expense ; whereas the milk of human kindness in Easim would show
itself in his carrying little children over rocky parts of the track*
The objective of our first day's journey had been Aseela, on
the coast, some nine hours or thirty miles distant from Tangier,
but as we were, of course, late in starting, we were still two hours
from that town when night overtook us, besides being separated
from it by the estuary of the River M'harhar, which the tide had for
the moment rendered impassable. For there is only one bridge on all
285
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286 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Aug.
the north-west coast of Africa : it spans a river which flows, not with
water, but with mud. We therefore pitched the tent in the hamlet
of Seedee Suleiman and settled down for the night. The two mule-
teers and one or two of the villagers sat gossiping outside the tent
until one by one they dropped off to sleep, lying scattered over the
ground like corpses on a field of battle. The people in the village
were used to Europeans, who frequently visited these parts when
hunting the wild boar. Indeed, a party of Russians was camped not
far off at the time of our visit for that purpose. Russia bulks larger
in the eyes of the Moors than the other European countries, as they
know less about it — omne ignotum pro magnijico. They have a curious
notion that the women in that country bear two children in each year,
and so account for its immense population. It is lamentable to observe
how quickly the gentie Moor loses his native simplicity when brought
into contact with Europeans. How debased the metal of our villagers
had become appeared next morning in their attempting to charge
us 6(i. a dozen for new-laid eggs. Easim could not find words to
express his wrath at a small hamlet daring to vie in price with the
mighty Tangier.
We were up and away next morning before sunrise, forded the
estuary, and entered Aseela in two hours. Aseela is a walled town not
unlike Chester. It is, however, in a ruinous condition, and its people,
some thousand Moors and Jews, move about its streets and lanes like
birds of the night. It has of late been raided by the neighbouring
hill-tribes. It has no trade, no ships call there : its glory has departed.
Its half -ruined castie and ramparts present an ideal of hoary antiquity.
They seem to bend under their weight of years.
We were making for Laraiche, some seven hours' distance down
the coast. When the tide is ebbing or * fleeing,' it is possible to per-
form the journey along the shore, between the difis and the sea. The
inland route through the treeless * forest,' after winding from one
hill-top to another — ^for the villages are perched as high as possible
in order to guard the more easily against surprise — Pleads down to the
beach at a point where stands a half-way house in the shape of the
whitewashed shrine of Saint Mubgheit of the Plain, the only sign of
human habitation visible to ships passing up this lonely coast between
Laraiche and Cape Spartel. Attached to the shrine is a caf6 for the
refreshment of wayfarers.
The Atlantic coast between Cape Spartel and Laraiche consists
of sand-cliffs from fifty to a hundred feet in height, which the sea is
constantly undermining. The soil thus brought down is washed out
to sea by the return of the waves and forms a bar all along the coast.
On this bar the waves break and, flowing over, form a lagoon, which
empties itself again into the sea, through occasional breaks in the
bar. The current in the lagoon increases in swiftness as it approaches
one of the outlets, when it becomes extremely rapid. Nothing could
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1906 WAtfDEUlNQ ttf MOROCCO 58?
smpass the majesty of these waves as they slowly draw nearer to this
sandbank, rising higher as they approach, and then burst into one
long waU of foam. On the day before, when lunching under some
fig-trees not far from Tangier, we thought we heard pefiJs of thunder,
and it was only when we arrived at sunset at the village where we
spent the night that we found that the thimder was that of the Atlantic
swell breaking on the coast. One could not help wondering how those
villagers felt towards that Ocean whose voice is the first and last
sound which strikes upon their ears. Other seas have their periods
of calm and storm, but the Atlantic is like the Prophet's sea which
cannot be still.
It was three o'clock when we arrived at the river Koos, but both
man and beast had to endure two hours of the blazing sun before
the deliberate bargeman put oS from the other side to take us over.
The town of Laraiche crowns the headland on the southern bank of
tiie river. UnUke Aseela, it is a place of call for steamers, though they
cannot enter the river, owing to the bar. It is chiefly famous for its
beautiful cloistered market-place, and for two remarkable bastions
bmlt to resemble frigates, but, hke all Moorish towns, it is in a filthy
condition. We put up in the typical Eastern inn, which is merely
a square formed by four rows of cells with a colonnade in front of
them and a well in the centre. It was indeed an Augean stable,
and a dreadful contrast to the open country in which we had spent the
night before under the stars.
In the inn we found a caravan of camels with their drivers, who
were taking sugar-loaves &om Laraiche to Fez. They were not to call
at any of the towns which we had proposed visiting, but were going to
make a straight cut across coimtry, and would reach Fez in three days.
Eafflm wished to accompany them, and expatiated in persuasive terms
on the great comfort derivable from travelling along with camels.
The pace at which they march is slow and pleasant. They start at
half -past four and travel till ten, then rest till two, when they set off
again, and camp for the night at sunset, about six. The objection that
the tribes on this route to Fez were wild, and, if they happened to be
short of provisions, might even eat a Christian, Easim solemnly repelled,
and appealed to the innkeeper for support. In the end it was agreed
that we should join the caravan, and the camel-drivers said they
would be pleased to have our company.
Night let down her veil. The stars began to appear over the east
wall of the inn, and pass silently across the sky to the west ; and they
were still shining when the camel-drivers rose and loaded their train,
and the camels marched out of the inn with as much stateliness as a
ship leaving port, swinging their necks fromside to side in time witii their
step, as if they were always noticing someone whom they thought they
knew, and then finding it was a stranger ; but apparently as indifferent
as to where they were going, or what or how much they were canying,
Vol. LVin— No. 342 K
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288 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Aug.
as a locomotive. Meantime Kasim was sleeping peacefully on the
rough cobble-stones. When he awoke it was near sunrise, and the
camels were far away.
On leaving Laraiche we said good-bye to the sea. Our next objec-
tive was the town of Al Esar, some five hours up the river Eoos. The
country is flat and bare, save for one ancient willow-tree on whose
stem generations of passers-by have engraved their names and pious
ejaculations to the honour of God and His Prophet.
Al Ksar is built of brick, and a feature of the town is the number
of its ruined mosques. Several of these, encircled by barren palms,
present a picturesque effect. The town is noteworthy as possessing
a Moorish inn reserved for the use of human beings. The building is
quadrangular in form, and three stories in height, with galleries running
all round, on which the doors open. The little cubical rooms have no
windows, much less furniture, even to the extent of a nail on which
to hang anything. The landlord suppUes tea to order. For the rest,
the guests cook their own meals with their own charcoal and brasier,
on the balcony outside the door of their room.
In leaving Al Ksar for Wezzan we quitted the most frequented
and civiUsed province of Morocco for what Kasim called ^ the country
of hes.' The route runs along the base of Mount Sarsar, a hill not
two thousand feet in height, but standing in a plain, and so visible
from distances of one or two days. About midday we halted under
the village of Cherchera. A mountain stream flowed down the hill-
side, on the banks of which orange-gardens were planted, a delightful
patch of dark green on the sunburnt landscape, The animals drank
eagerly, and so did Kasim and Abdallah, indifl[erent to the fact that
at a waterfall a little way above, the village maidens were washing
clothes, Moorish fashion, by throwing water upon them and beating
them with clubs.
We had left the dreary plain, and were threading our way amidst
low hills. It was Friday, and from the top of an opposing height the
melancholy tones of the call to midday prayer and weekly sermon
rang out. Kasim sighed because he was not able to attend. Perhaps
the country, lovelier than anything he had ever seen before, the fresh
warm air, so unlike the sultry heat of Tangier, and the wailing music
of the sad azdn, had stirred the dead leaves of poetry at the bottom of
Kasim's soul, for, certainly, at home that poor creature never darkened
a mosque door, and had possibly never heard a sermon in his hfe.
By three o'clock we were amongst the vineyards and fig-orchards
in which the town of Wezzan hes embowered, at the foot of the oUve-
flanked Mount Buhlal. Wezzan is to Morocco what Mecca is to the
Muslim world, or Lhassa to Tibet. It is the residence of the Shereef —
or descendant of the Prophet — Muhammad el Arbi. Abdallah carried
our letter of introduction, kindly suppUed by the EngUsh vice-consul
in Al Ksar, to the Shereef s house, whilst Kasim waited in the market-
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1906 WANDEBING IN MOBOCCO 289
place with the animals and baggage. A crowd of children, both Jews
and Moors, stared with great round eyes, until, some other attraction
occurring in another quarter, they stampeded like a herd of deer.
At length Abdallah returned with welcome news. The Shereef
was going to place at our disposal a summer-house in one of his own
gardens. We were met at the gate by the head-gardener, who showed
us where to dispose our animals and ourselves. We were scarcely
inside when a slave appeared bearing a present from the Shereef, con-
sisting of tea, sugar, and candles, and he continued to send us our
meab as long as we remained. The summer-house consisted of one
long room with a glass &ont, which ran along the end of an artificial
pond, stocked with goldfish, which made a delightful swinmiing-bath
after dark. The ground, except the flower-beds, was laid out in
cement. Two sddiers or ' assasseen ' were told off to watch us and
our animals. They would come in one hour after sunset, mamhjng
with a step Uke the Grerman goose-step, striking their shoes heavily
on the ground, chanting prayers the while in a low melancholy sing-
song, and would pass out in the same manner at the first streak of
dawn. The gardener was a fine, genial old man. He wore a white
turban and was addressed as ^ Hajji,' which meant that he had once
gone down to Tangier, taken the steamer over the Straits to Gibraltar,
and thence found his way to Mecca. Muslim as he was, he had appar-
ently been more impressed with Gibraltar than with all the sacred
places of Arabia. He was both well-read and well-informed. He
could repeat the names of all the dynasties which have reigned in
Morocco, in their proper order, and could speak intelligently on present-
day European poUtics. He could, of course, repeat most of his Kordn
by heart, besides being acquainted with some of the doctrines of
CSiristianity.
We did not mean to have trespassed more than one day upon the
hospitahty of the Shereef, but were asked to remain a second night,
partly because the weather had broken, and partly in order that we
might pay our respects to the Shereef. The real Shereef, indeed,
we could not see, since he was ill, but we visited his nephew Mulei
Alee, who was in fact our host. Descending a steep and narrow
lane, between high crumbling walls, we came to a huge gate. It was
opened by half a dozen porters, partly for the glory of the thing, but
also to keep it from coUapsing, so rickety it was. It opened into a
court paved with round stones, and surrounded by high walls in a
perilous state of dilapidation. In the midst of all this ruin and dirt
stood (with one exception) the most sacred person in all Morocco,
Hulei Alee. He was a very slightly-built personage, of sallow com-
plexion, with straight black hair and brown eyes. Kasim and Abd-
allah advanced and kissed him on the shoulder.
( These ceremonial interviews of visitors with the Shereef are con-
ducted according to a fixed routine. Beside the Shereef stands an
B 2
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940 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Aug.
official who^by aygestme introduces the etianger to the Sheieef . The
visitor first inquires for the Shereef s health, to whom the other replies,
^ I am well, praise to Allah/
^ May Allah increase your good, and may He requite your kind-
ness,' the visitor sajrs.
' When are you going away ? ' the Shereef next demands, giving
an abrupt turn to the conversation.
' To-morrow morning early, please Allah,' is the prompt response,
after which farewells are said and the interview is at an end.
The journey from Wezzan to Fez occupies two and a half days,
and the district traversed has a bad reputation for thieves, for the
Benee Eesa will strip the unlucky traveller even of his clothes. For-
tunately we fell in with a party who were travelling in our direction,
and so we all stuck together. With some alteration we might have
passed for the famous Canterbury pilgrims. There was an old merchant
who was going into the country on business. Another old man,
clothed in rags, had just been released from prison and was being taken
home by his wife. The day's journey was a twelve hours' scramble
to get through the unsettled country before nightfall. At midday
we stopped for half an hour under some fig-trees to rest the ftnimftlfl
and to eat some grapes and bread. At half -past two we came in sight
of the river Wargha, winding like a broad silvery ribbon down the
baking valley. We were about a thousand feet above sea-level, but
a scorching wind was blowing. In fording the Wargha Easim fell
off the little horse into the water, an event which caused much merri-
ment. We sat for a littie on the shore, watching a huge Persian wheel
which irrigated a melon-garden on the bank, before resuming our
scramble. Abdallah walked nearly the whole day in order to give
a poor woman a lift upon his donkey.
The sun had already set when we arrived at a black palmetto tent
standing in the boundless, undulating plain. There were two fig-
trees and a thatched hut or two close by. This was Ruseeyeen, the
seat of a small tribe of only about eight families, led by a chief called
Muhammad. After hobbling the animals and pitching the tent we
sat down to rest, whilst a boy and girl pursued the fowls round the
chiefs tent, with a view to supper. Abdallah made tea, to which
we invited the chief and the old merchant. After it was quite dark
and Abdallah had brought out the lantern, these tall and venerable-
looking Moors lay round it, in their long snowy garments and glisten-
ing turbans, talking over the events of the day. It must have been
about nine o'clock when the chief's servant brought the supper from
his cottage. This consisted of the usual dish or tray of ' kooskoos,'
in which we all joined. The host and his guests usually ate all the
meat, leaving only a Uttle of the wheat-meal for the women and ser-
vants. The first dish was succeeded by a second, cooked somewhat
differently, after which the chief asked the servant, in an offhand way,
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1905 WANDEBING IN MOBOCOO 241
if that were all. The servant replied that there was one course more,
and shortly reappeared with a third dish of kooskoos surmounted
by one of the unhappy fowls which had been racing unsuccessfully
for life and liberty round the tent an hour or two before.
After supper we fell to tea-drinking again, which continued as
long as the Shereef of Wezzan's sugar held out. When that failed
lefuge was taken in general conversation. In England the unfailing
topic of conversation is the weather, in Morocco it is theology. Easim
and Abdallah had during the day used all means, legitimate and
illegitimate, to magnify tiie importance of our party in the eyes of
the others, and Abdallah had, amongst other things, boasted that
we were carrying books with us, * good books, the Injed and others.'
' The Injeel,' the old merchant had exclaimed, ' why that is not
a good book at all. It is the Christians' book.'
Accordingly, at night the chief suggested that we should look at
these books, of which Abdallah in his simplicity had been boasting.
The chief opened one at random and began to read most impressively,
whilst the rest listened reverentially, yet without the slightest com-
prehension. He might have been reading Greek, for the books had
been printed in Syria, and the type was strange. Tet, read cor-
rectly or not, was it not the Tawrah which the Lord deUvered to
Moses, and to be listened to with awe and reverence ?
Tired of reading, the chief betook him to conversation on the
unfailing subject of theology. There is one point on which Muslims
never weary of debating when they fall in with a Christian : namely,
the question whether Jesus was really put to death or not. The chief
asserted the Muslim doctrine that Jesus did not die, and contrasted
Him with a prophet like Moses who died like ordinary men, until
the old merchant closed the whole discussion by quoting the hens
das^ious on the subject from the Kor^n : * Of course He is alive,' he
said, * for does it not say " And they slew him not, and they crucified
him not, but another was put in his place " ' ?
The chief then produced his library for our admiration. It con-
siflted of three or four royal letters, one from the late Sultan Abu'l
Hasan, who died in 1894, and another from the Sultan Suleiman, who
died in 1822. They were encased in red silk, and on opening them
each person kissed the seal and touched his forehead with it. The
chief then declared that it was time to sleep — ' and so to bed.'
Next morning, before leaving, we were regaled with a breakfast of
bread, newly-baked on a * girdle,' and tea. The country people have
a second meal of bread at noon, and, again before sunset, and finally
tiie supper of kooskoos. This fare and the open-air life produce a
race oi men of great stature. The mountaineers are, of course, strict
tea-totaUers, and even non-smokers. They are more religious and
better educated than the people of the plain. Even their girls receive
some educakton« Our chief was a talA : that is, he could at one time
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242 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Aug.
have repeated the Kordn by heart. It was pleasant to see how kind
they were to the old merchant. One would help him to rise, the others
remarking to one another in whispers that he was growing frail ; and
they waited for him at meals, and helped him first.
The chief and two of his dan walked a short distance with us,
and then said good-bye. Easim slipped into the chiefs hand a dollar,
and that he thought it an adequate acknowledgment of his hospit-
ality he showed by shortly after reappearing mounted on his mare.
He gave an exhibition of his horsemanship, riding full gallop for a
hundred yards and pulling up on the instant. He accompanied us for
about half an hour, until we had reached the Seboo River, and then
returned to his tents.
We followed the slow, winding Seboo for hcdf a day. Its water
is, as Abdallah said, ' mere mud,' hardly fit to bathe in, much less to
drink, and its banks are soft mud also. In order to drink it one had
to filter it through a cloth. At one point where the bank was firmer
than usual we found some Moors bathing, but one would almost have
required a second bath to remove the effects of the first.
Night found us looking about for some place in which to camp,
and we settled down at a poverty-stricken hamlet, called the daw-
war of the Gaid El Jildnee. There was no water for man or beast.
Only a woman sold us half a pint of milk. Elsewhere the Arabs
give milk away for nothing. We were glad to leave these inhospitable
people about six o'clock the next morning, and it was not until after
three hours' riding through glaring limestone that we reached the gate
of Fez, and could water the poor beasts at the fountain.
There is much to see in Fez, but the glory of the town rests upon
its mosques. The view obtained of the interior through the open
doors is charming. The tiled floors are spotlessly bright, fountains
play in the courts, around which pious Muslims recite their devotions
in white robes and snowy turbans. The finest of all is the mosque
of the Karaweeyeen. It resembles the great mosque of Cordova.
Abdallah mentioned the resemblance several times, and wished to know
which was really the larger of the two. The lane in which these
beautiful buildings stand is as narrow and dark and ill-paved as any
in Fez. It is lined with diseased beggars, who wait upon the charity
of those who attend the mosques.
From Fez to Meknes the distance is nine hours, or thirty miles.
The track runs straight across a beautiful plain of red soil. It is
intersected by numerous streams, and is much the most deUghtful
bit of North Morocco. Towards sunset we passed two Uttle huts
surrounded by a zareba or thorn hedge. The mukaddim, or headman,
was sitting outside with a newly-arrived guest, and bade us stop and
pitch our tent with him, as there was not time to reach the next ham-
let before dark. We accepted his hospitable advice, and were soon
comfortably settled down for the night. In a little the goatherd came
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1905 WANDEBINQ IN MOBOCCO 248
in with his flock, and the opening in the hedge was closed up by means
of a huge wooden pitchfork, so that we were completely snrroimded
by a thorn hedge six or seven feet high, and as many thick, and practi-
cally impenetrable. As soon as the goats were milked the mother of
the hamlet brought a dish of warm milk, with many expressions of
good will and wishes of health. It was soon pitch-dark, and the
dogs began to bark furiously. Visions of bloody conflicts at once
rose before Kasim's mind's eye, and he lay for a long time on his face
with only his head outside the tent, ready to fire on the first night
prowler who should betray his whereabouts. Being asked what was
the matter, his only reply was, ^ I don't know : this is night.' If
we did not shake in our shoes, that was only because we had taken
them o£E. Meantime Abdallah was lying on his back among the
things, snoring peacefully. Abdallah, however, had been this way
before, and would have known that he was safer there than in 'Londres,'
if he had known anything about that city, except that it is the country
from which the English come, and where everyone has plenty of
money, and where misery and poverty are unknown.
We arrived in Meknes about noon next day. The other guest
who had spent the night in the zareba accompanied us, running or
walking the whole distance of six hours without betraying the slightest
sign of fatigue. We saw the present Sultan's ostrich farm, and the
hideous erections of the Sultan Ismail (d..l727), and the ' long walls '
with which he sought to connect his various capitals, which run out
from Meknes on different sides. A more impressive object was a
house which was being built for the late Sultan Abu'l Hasan when
he died in 1894. When news of his death reached them, the builders
picked up their tools and went away ; and from that day to this the
house has stood with the scaffolding still round it, but not a stone
has been added or removed.
We remained over Friday in Meknes partly to give Kasim a chance
of hearing the sermon in the mosque, and he said he went, but his
eye betrayed his tongue. We left next day. The transformation
which had passed over the ghetto was extraordinary. On Friday
its streets were packed so that a pedestrian had some difficulty in
pushing his way through. On Saturday not a man or a boy was to
be seen, save one grisly Moor who kept the gate, that the Jews might
celebrate their worship in peace.
We made first for Pharaoh's Castle, the native name for Yolubilis.
Since the time of Ismail these famous ruins have formed a quarry
for the neighbouring city of Meknes. It is three hours between the
two places, and the whole distance is strewn with large blocks of stone.
As we rode along, the muleteers told one another how these stones
came there. It appears that since the world began there have been
only two persons who could force the jinn to work for them. These
were Solomon the son of David, Emperor of MoroQco (and King of
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244 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Aug.
Israel), and Sultan Ismail. Ismail foroed the jinn to carry the stones
of Volubilis to Meknes when he was building it, but when he died
the charm was broken. The jinn at once dropped the stones, which
lie there to this day to prove the truth of the tale. Half an hour
above the ruins is the sacred town named after Mulei Idrees (d. 788
A.D.). It was the ilUterate Abdallah who found for us the inscrip-
tion which fixes the date of Volubilis in the third century at latest.
We pushed on and encamped for the night in the viUage of the
Benee Amar. Their chief gave us a mixed reception.
* I welcome you and your fellow believer,' he said to Easim, * you
are men like us. Tou will sleep when we sleep and rise when necessity
calls upon you to rise, and you will bear your weapons and defend
us and yourselves. But why do you bring this Christian companion
of yours ? Do you not know that the tribe has risen against me,
and that they have this day woimded my brother's son, and cut off
two of his fingers and broken his head ? And I fear that they will
fall upon us in the night, and will kill your companion, in order that
they may deliver me into the hands of the Sultan, and take me in
fetters and chains to the prisons of Mogador.'
The result was that, instead of pitching the tent, we were accommo-
dated for the night in a cottage, and the animals were driven away
to a stable. As soon as it was dark the chief came in and joined us
at tea, along with his little four-year-old son, who talked much and
upset his cup. He then went away for his supper and sent us ours
also. It consisted of kooskoos and water-melon. After supper he
returned and we drank more tea, at which he sat like ' Brunswick's
fated chieftain,' suddenly raising his head every now and then and
listening intently. He seemed chiefly interested in our spoons and
forks and other European devices, which he pronoimced ' wonderful.*
A friend whom he called in, assuring him that the ' Christian wasn't
bad,' warned Easim against Christian ways, such as eating blood
and pigs, and drinking wine.
We started next morning in rain, and the black loam of the district
made walking very heavy. The route lay through a curious cleft
in the hills called the Gate of Tewka. In the afternoon we passed a
man lying by the wayside, overcome by the heat. After having had
a drink of water he continued on his way. At night we reached the
village of the Benee Ahsan, where the dogs gave us a hearfy reception.
The chief, who had visited Mecca, and several others, joined us
at tea, and later on they brought their supper to the tent and we all
ate it together. The chief left most of the talking to one of his elders,
who wished to know whether ^ Londres ' or Morocco were the better
country. Being assured that Morocco was much the finer of the
two, ' Of course it is,' he replied ; ' here are camels and sheep, and
wheat and barley ; ' and he began to amuse himself by pricing our
various belongings.
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1906 WANBEBING IN MOROCCO 246
The next day's route lay through pleasant undulating country, and
included the raie luxury of a midday bath in a pellucid stream, which,
it must be confessed, supplied the drinking water to a village below.
At night we stopped at a little village called Faww4rat. The people
here asked us not to stay with them because they were too poor to feed
us, official travellers being suppUed at the cost of the country-side.
Easim, however, set their minds at rest by teUing them we would
pay for all they gave us. On arriving at such a village the stranger
says, ^ I am the guest of Qod ' ; to which the villager, replies, ' The
guest of €rod is welcome.' The chief, who was called See Boo Silsim
the Aiseezee, came up to us carrying a hen by its claws.
' Will the Christian eat ? ' he asked Easim.
' Of course he will,' was the prompt reply, and the chief, swinging
round with his face towards Mecca, laid the unfortunate fowl on the
ground, and hacked its head nearly off with a knife. After holding
it for a moment to allow the blood to escape, he handed it to a boy
to give to the cook. On the following morning the chief took us to
visit the supposed Roman ruins of Bosrah, but they were not at all
remarkable, and we hastened to cover the five miles which still sepa-
rated us from the town of Al Esar, through which we had passed
twelve days before, and so to bid good-bye to Easim's ^ country of
Bos,' and enter once more the home-land of truth and safety.
When, therefore, we had put out our candle that night and lay
on our blankets, endeavouring to fit our bones into the ups and downs
of the cement floor of our room in the iim, it seemed to be an appro-
priate time and a proper occasion to call Easim to account, and to
demand of him an explanation of the stories which he had invented
and the false reports which he had disseminated, with a view of throw-
ing dust in the eyes "of his co-religionists, and of facilitating our pro-
gress through the country. On a later occasion Easim defended his
conduct on the ground that one can only travel in Morocco by means
ci two things — ' craft ' and * manliness.' On this journey, he said,
he had only required to use craft, but if manliness had been requisite,
he would have employed it also, and would either have killed or
have been killed. On the present occasion, however, he was too
sleepy to argue his case, and merely muttered in childlike accents,
'Alli^ forgive me,' and was soon fast asleep. Abdallah, who was
endeavouring to collect a small EngUsh vocabulary, demanded to know
what the En^ish for two Arabic words was ; and being told ^ truth '
and ^iUsehood', he proceeded to memorise these vocables, and
(xmtinued to repeat them in a low voice imtil he too dropped off to
sle^.
T. H. Wbib.
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246 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Ang.
SOME FRENCH AND ENGLISH PAINTING
After I had seen the Royal Academy this year, with the usual
interest, I saw the Salon with the usual delight. Esteeming the
one institution, and having no violent prepossession in regard to the
other, how was it possible to avoid asking the question, ^ Why does
the one give interest and the other keen enjoyment ? '
I am speaking now of the Painting. I leave aside altogether that
great companion Art, the Art of Sculpture — ^finding, I confess, no
such essential difference in the view one takes of that in the two
places ; and this, too, notwithstanding it is granted that in France
the traditions of Sculpture have been more unbroken than in England
— the succession of great artists more constant and more unimpaired.
Only a few quite foolish people would contest that proposition. And
strange to say, and entertidning to remember, these few would be
foimd chiefly in England. In France Rodin was neglected;
in France he has been reasonably appreciated; only in England
did it occur to hot-headed sectaries and befuddled partisans
that Sculpture had not existed until Rodin came. The sane French
critic recognises in this so fertile and inventive, in this sometimes so
moving master, a development ; not a beginning — an incident ; not
a Deity. Great men were before him ; great men will follow him ;
at his side are great men. The level of the Sculpture of France, in
idea and performance, has been habitually — at no one moment only —
above the level of Sculpture in England. The Art in France has been
more encouraged, and better understood. One generation had Jean
Goujon, another Pigalle, another Clodion and Falconnet, another
Carpeaux. Tet, coming to the hour that is, we do not find that the
comparison in quaUty between the French and English Sculpture
would be so disastrous to our own. We are in a good period of Sculp-
ture, here in England. Though Onslow Ford has gone, though Alfred
Gilbert shows but little, excellent Academicians — ^Brock, Thomycroft,
Frampton, Colton, Goscombe John — ^produce excellent work; and,
outside the Academy in point of membership, yet wisely exhibiting
within its walls, are Roscoe Mullins, Gilbert Bayes, Derwent Wood,
the people of the future. No ; it is not in the Art of Sculpture that
the difference between France and EngJUmd is just now most apparent.
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1906 SOME FRENCH AND ENGLISH PAINTING 247
In both lands iheie is high accomplishment ; in both, a reasonable
freedopi from conventionality.
I do find it otherwise with the Painting. And, in so far as it is
otherwise, the gnlf is most perceptible when we take EngUsh Painting
as represented hy the Academy, French Painting as represented by
the Salon. There are points where the gulf narrows. This narrowing
is perceptible chiefly when we take into account much English work
that is outside the Academy altogether ; pictorial work done, it may
be, in mediums the Academy does not much recognise ; done, too,
in methods of which it has not officially taken cognisance. More of
tiiis hereafter.
But, first, of French contemporary Art.
The conditions under which Pictorial Art is produced in France
are more elastic than with us. Fonder than we are of red tape, for
the most part — submitting to rule, even to fussy rule, in Uttle things :
submitting to it as they might to a Divine dispensation — the French
have yet achieved in Art a greater freedom than we have ; there is
greater freedom in idea ; there is greater freedom in practice. No one
organisation, but most of our organisations and most of our views
and our long-cherished beliefs tend to restriction in artistic things.
I am no foolish, prejudiced decrier of the Royal Academy and all its
ways ; I do not accuse it of sectarianism — an official body's worst
fault — I think only that it shares the want of elasticity common in
artistic things to tiie ways of our race. To nothing, therefore, in its
constitution, to nothing pecuUar to its practice, am I inclined to assign
tiie responsibility of the comparative absence of charm and vividness,
of impulse and variety, in its Shows.
Take only one consideration in our Painting — something Uke an
enforced, an obligatory scale of work. The quite small picture is
ruled out, by painters themselves very often, as insignificant. It
does not make reputations. It does not produce incomes. By that
m Painting which is akin to the Sonnet, to the Lyric, to the Short
Story, in Literature, success and recognition come to but a few. And
if that is so with the small picture, material conditions, material con-
ditions only, rule out the very large. Is there official encouragement,
is there State patronage, for the labour that expends itself on huge
decoration, on long stretched wall or stately ceihng ? Work done by
Mr. Herbert Draper for the Hall of the Drapers' Company is excep-
tional altogether. It is done ' in a blue moon ' ; but how rare !
I am thankful to chronicle its existence. A lucky chance I But in
Paris it is not in a blue moon only that we come upon such a noble
flight of Fancy in colour as is afforded by that ^ Fragment of a ceiling *
—if a * fragment ' what will be the whole ? — contributed by M. Besnard
to this year's New Salons, and destined for the Theatre Franpais.
The very opportunity for work like that, the very possibihty of it,
suggests new ideas, sets imagination on the march, involves new
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248 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Aug.
effeots. Besnard is himself, indeed, a shining instance of the elABticit7
I claim as the privileged possession of the art of his land. For com-
pare that ceiling— with its range of radiant cdour, its orange, gold,
and lemon, its vastness of effect as well as of mere size— with the
work done by the same painter, with faultless appropriat^iess, two
or three years ago, for a hospital at Berck. And think of Paul Baudry
at the Op6ra, of Puvis de Ghavannes at the Hotel de ViUe, at the
Sorbonne, at the Panth6on, at Rouen, Lyons, Marseilles, and most
of all at Amiens. (Puvis would never do ceilings at all — all his great
work is wall-decoration — and that is worth remembering.) And think
then of our conditions in regard to work that would be honoured by
being named, however humbly, by those things of restful beauty with
which Puvis has endowed France— endowed in two senses, for I know
he got but very little money by them ; leave to do them was aU he
got on one or two occasions at least. Think of this, however — the
rough of it with the smooth of it if we will — and ask if with us there
is anything to bestow any measure or show of reasonableness, upon
a like ambition. That question answered, the want of elasticity in the
conditions under which Painting is practised will— ^in one direction at
all events — ^have been made apparent.
Then, I have referred to mediums which the Academy — cmd not
the Academy alone— does not much recc^nise, and to methods of
which it scarcely takes cognisance. Here, rather than in actual
choice of subjects presented, is the interest of its Exhibitions handi-
capped. In regard to subjects presented there is not really much
difference. Very little Glenre in either place — Salon or Academy —
rather too many portraits in the Academy, rather too few nudes.
But then in the Salon rather too many nudes as a rule — I mean nude
studies merely — ^rather too few portraits. In both places what was
called ^Historical Painting' — that Painting which was the least
historic of all, because it was that which dealt least with the known
and seen, and most with the idly fancied or the artificially restored —
what was called Historical Painting is dead as a door-nail.
I do find some difference of subject, however, when we come to
Landscape ; and, to speak frankly, that difference is all in favour of
France. The French idea of Landscape is more comprehensive than
ours. They accept all we choose in the wide world before us, and
accept much we reject. We accept, broadly speaking, the sea and
shore, the region of great hills and streams — ^Romantic Landscape —
the region of unspoilt agricultural country and agrarian life — ^Pastoral
Landscape. Cazin, amongst others, taught his fellow countrymen to
accept something else — something associated more dosely, to most
men, with Hhe daily roimd, the common task.' The Dutchman,
James Maris — as Whistier with us — ^was one of the first to insist upon
the attractiveness of the town. Ben6 Billotte went further— he proved
the ^ paintabiUty ' of the terrain vague and the suburb. And this
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year tiiere is Meale's delicate landscape, with everyday things seen
beaatifully, as part of the whole. Thus it is that there is brought
within the scope of Art in France that which, for practical purposes —
in most important oil pictures, at least — ^is yet outside of it in Eng-
land ; though an artist like Mr. livens, who has had the courage ami
originality to make of the domestic fowl (like I forget what brilliant
Spaniard in this year's Salon) the instrument for exhibiting his high
command of colour, movement, light, has likewise, in a group of
^ water colours' (not pure water colours by any means, but extra-
ordinarily effective, and justified absolutely), shown, this v^y year
amongst us, a series of pieces in which nothing less than great Design
is put at the service of a record and rendering of modem bridges,
riverside coal wharves, suburban trams, Banstead golf links, flooded
chalk pits topped by a vision of Victorian houses. Art may redeem
and exalt. Art may qualify or suppress. Art may give tmity. Art
is the great reconciler. But we do not know that enough — ^we are
still conventional. And in France they do know that.
In England — I have made the point clear already — a picture has
no chance of being vast, rightly. It can hardly be a noble decoration.
On the other hand, the dull conviction of the Public exacts a certain
size, if work is to be ^ important,' if work is to count. It exacts Uke-
wise — ^practically it exacts — a certain medium — oil paint. The
PubUc would be astonished to hear — ^though Royal Academy Cata-
logues are proof of it — ^that, a hundred years ago, Turner made his
reputation by Water Colour. That Maurice Quentin La Tour could
work only in Pastel, and yet be a great master of Portraiture, would
astonish the Public. That Rembrandt, had he wrought his Etchings
only, must have been account'Cd scarcely indeed less great than we
account him to-day, with the Syndics in the Beichsmuseum and
the Burgomaster Six in the house of that worthy's descendant at
Amsterdam — that, too, would astonish the Public. And it is with the
knowledge of the PubUc's vast capacity for stupid surprise, that the
artist with us does his work.
Is it not also with some knowledge of the limitations of the Public
•—of the shortness of its tether, artistic and intellectual — that our
Royal Academy makes its elections and distributes its favours of
place ? That the Academy itself is unrepresentative is much more
than I should say, when most of its elections register the approval
bestowed already, by not incompetent people, and often upon the
younger men. But it is approval that the elections register— it is
not wholly merit ; and very little is it merit displayed in unwonted
fields and in imusual ways.
A first-rate Water Colour painter might have been elected before
now, on his achievements in that Art alone. And although the Royal
Society of Painter Etchers exists to assemble all that there is of meri-
torious or distinguished in English Engraving, there stand just now.
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250 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Aug.
by their own wiU> foolish or wise, oatcdde of it, at least two etchers,
D. Y. Oameron and Muirhead Bone — as there stand within it nearly
half a dozen etchers and mezzotint engravers, of whom Seymour
Haden and Frank Short are the chief — ^worthy, as far as that goes, of
Academic rank.
And if I do not urge that half a dozen elections should be made
straightway to the Academy from the Royal British Artists or the
New EngUsh Art Club, I do say that the first named of these two
institutions holds, in Mr. Cayley Robinson, Mr. Foottet, and Mr.
Wynford Dewhurst — ^not to speak of its President — ^painters the best
of whose efforts arrest and retain the attention of alert, unprejudiced
observers ; and I say that at the New EngUsh Art Club Mr. Brabazon,
Mr. Francis James, Mr. Alfred Rich, Mr. Wilson Steer — ^and that does
not finish the list — ^are artists who count in English Painting — they
are artists of accomplishment and individuaUty : important, attractive.
And one of the several reasons why we enjoy the modem Salon so
keenly, while the Academy, as a whole, gives us but moderate and
measured satisfaction, is that at the Salon the like of these men are
to be found : the men who initiate, the men who are quite them-
selves— the men ' in the latest boat,' as the Paris slang has it.
So it is that, whilst in London indeed, works noble, tender, refined,
audacious — works of Orchardson, Alma-Tadema, Poynter, Water-
house, Sargent — ^may be set more or less against those in Paris of
' Carolus ' ; Besnard ; Aman-Jean, with his blend of Pansienne and
Primitive; Carri^re, with his pathos in monochrome, his dignity,
gravity, his * intimacy,' and his atmosphere; Jean B6raud, with
Le DSfile, and its noveUst's observation of gesture and character of
folk as beheld at a funeral; Caro Delvaille, with Septembre — ^a
dejeuner sur Vherbe, with a cool jar and figs and pears, and brown and
white nudities — and Toumes again, with a still Ufe of peckches Chardin
would not have disdained ; or La Gandara, with his svelte young
greyish bruney Mile. Polaire, in silvery pink, with hands to flattened
breast. There is in London, in our official Exhibition, lamentably Uttie
that displays the newer vision, the widening range ; lamentably little
that I set against, for instance, Anglada-Camarasa (that is, the artist
of the MarchS avx coqs, whose name escaped me for the moment a
couple of pages ago, when I was speaking of Livens), or Gaston La
Touche, with his Uhetvre doree, waters in a park ; or Le Sidaner, or
Le Camus, with his stately and decorative, large, restful visions of the
Pont du Gard (Alfred East's Chateau GaiUard, of a year or so since,
has a certain affinity with these), or Morrice's Course de Taureaux,
or Truchet's astoundingly actual Femmes dans un Bar, or Veber's
brilliant Uttle Pesage, two plump and meretricious persons whom a
small jockey interests; or Zuloaga, with his Cousines — splendid
subjects for painting, but relatives whom the average man would
not burst with pride to acknowledge.
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1905 SOME FBENGH AND ENGLISH PAINTING 251
All this, and not a word about the Department of * Engraving ' —
etchings by Gottet, to whom is known the tragedy of Breton coasts —
by Chahine and Legrand, studies of marked, eccentric character;
by Armand Berton, whose note is grace ; by Bdjot, whose prints
give so unflinchingly the modem aspect of the Seine coursing through
Paris. If I may hold myself excused for not insisting on these things,
it is because I must, in any case, regretfully acknowledge that good
and vivid as they are, too much of the French Etching by the side of
them is Etching only in name. Too much in France just now is
Etching diverted from its proper purposes, and asked to compass
efiects for which it is not the appropriate medium. Its advocates
discourse of * freedom of method.' The truth is, only, that the work
they eulogise is gaudy and immediate in its appeal — its life short, and
its end certain.
i Frederiok Wedmore.
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263 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Aug.
TNB INFLUENCE OF BERKELEY
It sounds morbid, that one should be influenced, and even dominated,
by Berkeley's disbelief in ' material substance ' ; but the fact of
itself may be worthy of note. A single case, as all doctors know,
is of no great value in pathology. Still, they may be glad that I
should record my sjonptoms, which seem to me to indicate a definite
disease. Briefly, my case is an example of what I would call chronic
Berkeleitis, of many years' duration, not yielding to treatment, vari-
able in its severity, never in abeyance for any long period, and not
accompanied by any general failure of the mental faculties. I am
possessed and obsessed by the knowledge that my five senses are not
so simple as they seem. Berkeley's estimate of the * external world '
has become a sort of trick or habit of my mind, and has grown on
me, and I cannot get his system out of my system.
That I may describe my case with accuracy, and that there may
be no doubt as to the origin of the infection, I have been looking at
my copy of Berkeley's works, and I find that I read the Dialogues
between Philonous and Hylas in July 1875, which must be the date
of the onset of the disease. The wonder is that so many under-
graduates escape. They must have great natural powers of resist-
ance— ^what the Grermans call wiederumsfahigkeU; for the insidious
force of the argument renders it highly infectioujs among the non-
immune. That heat and cold, as heat and cold, cannot exist in any
unperceiving substance or body, any more than pain, as pain, can
endst in the point of a pin; that sweetness, as sweetness, cannot
exist in sugar ; nor bitterness, as bitterness, in wormwood. That what
is true of tastes is true of smells ; that what is true of smells is true of
sounds. And I hope, says Philonous, that you will make no difficulty
to acknowledge the same of colours, I made none ; I did not find any
to be made ; and, before I knew what was happening, I was down
with an acute attack of Berkeleitis, which afterward developed into a
chronic trouble.
I have not been able to find any remedy against this complaint,
and am disposed to think that it is aggravated by all empirical methods
of treatment. The periods of remission have become shorter than
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1905 THE INFLUENCE OF BERKELEY 258
they weie. I am seldom £iee> for moie than a day oi two, from
some leminder of my old enemy. The least thing will bring on an
attack; indeed, I have long ceased from all attempts to prevent
them, and am wholly imable to advise what should be done in any
case like my own. The attacks are sadden, and without premonitory
symptoms ; they might almost be called spasmodic ; they last but a
few moments, and are not attended by pain. And, though I have
sufiered so many years, off and on, from chronic Berkeleitis, I cannot
find that it has exercised any deteriorating effect on my higher nerve-
centtes.
Let me describe one attack, of moderate severity ; for they are
all very much alike. I was writing at my table, a night or two ago,
smoking a cigarette, and in my usual health. The colour, shape, and
feel of the penholder between my fingers, the lamplight shining over
my paper, the taste of the tobacco, and the sounds through the open
window — all suddenly became so many instances out of the dialogues
between Philonous and Hylas. Light, and shadow, and colour, and
touch, and sound, and taste remained ; but, for the moment, there
was no ^ material substance ' in or behind them. The fit, if I may so
call it, lasted only a few seconds. My sensations again asserted
themselves as my writing things and my neighbour's cat. But this
sort of seizure is of constant occurrence. Sometimes it is precipi-
tated by a sudden experience of the dignity and beauty of the world —
by a sunset, a landscape, or a cathedral. More often it is excited by
the very triviality or insignificance of something in daily use, such as
tables and chairs. Objects exceptionally large or small have a
specially irritating action, and I can always bring on an attack by
looking up at the stars or down through a microscope.
I have written out my case as though I were really ill, because I
have observed that those nearest and dearest to me tend to regard
me, during these attacks, with^some slight anxiety or disfavour ; but
I am beginning at last to reconsider my opinion ; and for three reasons.
Fiist, because I am none the worse for my many years of this mental
state ; next, because I do not believe that any harm or evil imagining
can ever come out of Berkeley ; lastly, because I am absolutely con-
rinced that his premises are true. For these reasons I am inclined
to think that his influence, in a mild form, does not constitute a
disease ; Uiat it should be considered not as a process of degeneration,
bat as a mere over-activity of function, like the compensatory action
of the heart when one is going uphill ; as adjusted and adapted to
some useful purpose.
He does compensate us for the upMU work of our lives, for he
brings into the day's affairs that sense of wonder which Aristotle
caD^ the beginning of philosophy ; he proves it to us, how we live
and move in a mystery. No technical phrases of logic obscure his
argument, no ranting or insincere talk, no extravagance of style.
Vol. LVm— No. 342 S
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264 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Ang.
He has something to aay to tiie average man, and aays it with perfect
straightness and simplicity. He takes us as we are, walks arm-in-
arm with US in the garden, joins ns over a dish of tea in the arbour.
Just tell me, says he, what you see. And we answer, in the words of
Sister Anne, I see the «un, which shines, and the grass, which looks
green. From that day forth his voice is in our ears. The green of
the grass — ^what is it but colour ? And what is colour but light ?
And what is light but motion ? And how can we see motion ? It is
no use to ' answer with a grin,' or to bluster after the fashion of Dr.
Johnson, or to say that the primary qualities of matter are more real
than the secondary. What are extension, and weight, and resist-
ance, that we should assign to them that independent existence which
we do not assign to colours or sounds ? Dr. Johnson, when Beswell
spoke to him of Berkeley, was content to kick a stone, crying : Sir,
I refute him thus I But who would now give that answer, or try to
restore that old distinction between primary and secondary qualities
which has no hold either in logic or in science % Berkeley compels us
to go a mile with him, and we go with him twain. We never get
right away from him, never doubt again that there is more in vision
than meets the eye.
And it is all so simple ; his instances are of the level, not of the
schools, but of the schoolroom : which is the reason why children hate
hearing about him. Not that he is associated in their minds with
the administration of tar-water, his favourite panacea — ^it was a
generation long vanished, who were dosed with tar-water till they
went about, as Dickens says, smelling like a newly-painted fence —
but because he is too childish for them. Try the experiment ; play
Philonous to some little Hylas of your own. He will soon turn
restive. All young people are Hylades, which, being interpreted, is
materialists. His general attitude toward the whole subject is that
of a puppy compelled to see itself in a looking-glass ; and he prefers
to move about in worlds not realised.
Of course the children are wrong ; and some slight acquaintance
with Berkeley would be good for them. If only they would make
fair trial of that first dicdogue — ^it begins so prettily, the very way
that children love :
PhUonous. Good-morrow, Hylas: I did not expeot to find yon abroad so
early. Can there be a pleasanter time of the day, or a more delightful season
of the year ? That purple sky, those wild bat sweet notes of birds, the firagrant
bloom upon the trees and flowers, the gentle influence of the rising snn, these
and a thousand nameless beauties of nature inspire the soul with secret
transports. . . .
No well-taught child would find fault with this sentence, which
sounds like the music of Acts and Galatea ; nor would he refuse to be
led, once started, some way along the main argument. He would
admit the analogy between heat or cold, and pain; for he would
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1905 THE INFLUENCE OF BEBEELEY 256
liave distmct notions^ founded on experience, of pains and pins. He
might even allow that sweetness, as sweetness, is not in sugar ; nor
bitterness, as bitterness, in the modem equivalent for wormwood.
But when it came to colour he would draw the line, and declare that
Berkeley was a silly old man. The children are quite sure that the
colours of the wodd are laid on, somehow, all over a globe that is
slightly flattened at the poles, like paints out of a paint-box. They
know that paint-box; they have a thousand times transferred its
contents to paper. Colour, to children, is paints ; they have seen it
come and go, like the colour on the cheeks of Lady Teazle's rival,
which was paint indeed, and went at night, and came back in a
box next morning. There, at colour, they stop short, and will hear
no more of Philonous and Hylas.
n
But we, by what device of logic can we get away from Berkeley,
and at what stage of the argument shall we refuse to go further ?
We are bound to take the road with him, and may as well do it with a
good grace. At the least, we cannot deny the validity of his pre-
mises. He gets us thus far — that there is not, and never will be,
evidence of the independent existence of ' material substance.' Shall
we stop at the acceptance of that much of his argument, and not
advance to his conclusions ? That all Nature is a ' divine language ' ;
that eternal thought speaks to all of us, with things for words, in a
direct and immediate code, having its signs and abbreviations in all
that we call matter ; that there are books in the running brooks,
sermons in stones, in a sense not meant by Shakespeare, and every
gooseberry bush is a burning bush ; that things really exist, apart
from us, but as they are in themselves, in thought, in eternity, the
real things — alas ! how far am I out of my depth ! But I am out of
my depth, no less, whenever I remember that the colour of my own
eyes is in the eyes of my friend, and that the smell of my food is in
me, and not in the food.
It is strange that one should find profit and pleasure in Berkeley's
premises, taking them by themselves. Why does his Non Credo thus
stir and urge thought, even before one comes to the recital of his
Credo % His premises, the articles of his Nor^ Credo, are no more
than what is in every text-book of physics ; but the text-books have
not his power to excite the sense of wonder and of mystery. There
must be some good reason for his dominant influence.
Partly, it is the pleasantness of his style, his use of the Platonic
dialogue, and the level excellence of his sentences. He loves a fair
Betting for his argument — the garden in the early morning, the woods
and hills, the brooding sunshine. It is always a fine day, and the
country is always looking its best, when Philonous and Hylas enter,
L»2
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256 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Aug,
right and left of the scene ; and, when they are tired of talking, thej
go to ohapel, or drink tea. The quiet, old-fashioned wholesomeness
of the open-air life, the freshness of torf and trees, add grace to their
talk. These happy disputants live out of doors, far from lecture-
halls and reading-rooms ; they have no troubles and no vice. But,
for all this Arcadian simplicity, this lightness of touch, there is nothing
second-rate or conventional in Berkeley's love of Nature, and he
rises, without effort, to the highest dignity and splendour of word and
phrase.
Partly, the secret of his influence is in his temperament. It is not
for nothing that he was a bishop, a traveller, a philanthropist, and
somewhat of a crank ; a lover of music, a man altogether hospitable,
unselfish, and good. To him, the non-existence of material substance
was a principle of faith ; the logical barrier between his premises and
his conclusion was not a brick wall, but the thinnest film of a veil ; his
Non Credo and his Credo were as inseparable as the convexity and
the concavity of a curve. He cannot regard it with indifference, as
something outside conscience, whether men receive or reject his
philosophy. He longs passionately to make converts ; and his dismal
apprehensions over the free-thinker are of absolute sincerity. This
eager temperament does influence men. It is one thing to stand
opposite a brick wall, and another to stand opposite a veil, even
though they should be both of them impenetrable. Before a veil
men will wait, and will say to themselves, not without truth, that if
they look a little longer they may see a little more.
But the influence of Berkeley is not in his style and temperament
alone, but in his singular aptness for everyday life. He wears well,
and will outlast many generations of minute philosophers, and will
not be laid low either by popular materialism or by natural science.
Against popular materialism, and the doctrine of a * succession of
states of consciousness,' he sets the permanent self, imposing its
categories on phenomena which would otherwise be neither in con-
sciousness nor in succession ; he takes for granted and puts in words
of one syllable what is now put in words of greater length. Toward
the physical sciences he turns gladly. He would have loved to read
that lecture by Helmholtz describing the waves of sound, and com-
paring them to the waves of the sea — ' an instructive spectacle,'
Helmholtz calls the sea, ' which I have never been able to view with-
out a certain degree of physico-scientific delight.' Then comes the
description of the waves of sound : ^
In the same way, yon must conceive the air of a concert-hall or ball-room
traversed in every direction, and not merely on the surface, by a crowd of
intersecting wave-systems. From the mouths'of the male singers proceed waves
of six to twelve feet in length ; from the lips of the songstresses dart shorter
waves, from eighteen to thirty-six inches long. The mstling of silken skirts
ei^cit^s little ripples in the air ; each instrument in the orchestra emits its own
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1906 Tn:^ tttPLVE^C:^ OF BilBKELtlY 25?
speoial wayes : and all these systems expand spherically from their respective
centres, dart through each other, are reflected from the walls of the room, and
thns rash backwards and forwards, nntil they succumb to the greater force of
newly generated tones.
He would have loved to try to understand that latest triumph of
natural science — ^the electric theory of matter. He would perhaps
have wrought it into the dialogues, somewhat after this fashion :
PhUonotu, These atoms, Hylas, which you say are combined into a
material substance, are they not material ? Or shall we say that a material
snbstance is formed by the consolidation of that which is not of itself material ?
Hylcu, I will not deny to you, Philonous, that these atoms, as I call them,
are of the nature of a material substance.
Phdlonoua. And what then are we to think of these electrons, or constituent
parts of each atom ? Are they also of the nature of a material substance, or
what would you say of them ?
Hyku. I say that they are of the nature of electricity.
Philonous. These electrons can pass through substances such as we coll
solid, and can be deflected from their course by a magnet ?
Eyhu, They can.
Pkihnotu. They are able, also, to cause ripples in the all-surrounding
envelope of the ether, and to exercise in their flight such action on material
objects as you compare to the bombardment of the enemy's ships with cannon-
balls?
Hylas. That is so.
PhUonous. But these ripples, Hylas, and this strange bombardment, do
they not betoken the nature of a material substance, such as we seem to
recognise everywhere in the trees and flowers, the rocks and soil of the earth ?
Hylas. I tell you, Philonous, that these electrons are not matter, in any
gross or vulgar meaning of that word ; but they are charges of that which our
phUoflophers call electricity, and of so great subtlety that many millions of
ihem would lie within the measure of one inch.
PhiUmotts. I pray you, therefore, are they the less material ? Is it not
certain, that they do indeed produce in us, by tJieir co-ordinated powers, those
Bensations of light and of colour, those perceptions of form and of resistance, to
which we assign the name of matter ? I am not ignorant how one of your teachers
U of the opinion that matter shall perhaps be made, by a new process of the
sciences, out of a stuff which is not matter. What, then, is this stuff-— for so he
names it — which can thus come to be matter, if it be not indeed material ?
I confess to you, for my part, that I find no fault with Holy Writ, where it says,
That which is bom of the flesh is flesh ; nor with the worthy Kant, who condemns
* those metaphysical quacks who are for ever cogitating at matter, till it becomes
so fine and superfine that they at length fancy it subtilised into spirit.'
Hylas. You may say what you will, but you will never persuade me that
electricity is matter. I will grant to you that we are not well acquainted with
the nature of that form of electricity which is called positive, but we are not
ignorant that the negative electricity exists in masses, compressed within each
atom, and issuing thence, as it were, by an explosion.
Philonous, Oh, Hylas, it is not for me to understand these fine and intricate
qnestbns, or to recognise aught but a material substance in these electrons,
which you thus describe as though they were indeed of a material nature.
For me, this pleasant world is not changed; it is still a world of trees and
flowers, of buildings and monuments in our cities, of ocean with its changing
moods of storm and calm. . . •
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Ill
So we come back, arm-in-arm with Berkeley, to common sense
and plain fact. There is nothing he hates more than to be called
dreamy and imaginative. The reality of the world is as true to him
as it is to the children. It is none the less real, but all the more
real, because it is the * divine language.' That is the last word of his
philosophy — that we should never for a moment be fooled into any
loss of our common sense ; and the last word of the Dialogues is
common sense :
Ton see the water of yonder fotmtain, how it is forced upwards in a round
column to a certain heiglit, at which it breaks and falls back into the basin from
whence it rose, its ascent as well as descent proceeding firom the same xmiform
law or principle of gravitation ? Just so the same principles which, at first
view, lead to scepticism, pursued to a certain point, bring men back to common
sense.
There is the secret of Berkeley's influence, in his love of common
sense. Of all philosophers he is the most apt for everyday life. He
takes the world as it is, and us as we are. If we do not accept his
conclusions, he asks us at least to admit his premises, and leaves
his conclusions on the front doorstep. Now and again some
reminder comes, at random, from him :
Just when we are safest there's a sunsot-touch,
A fancy from a flower-bell, some one's death,
A choms-ending firom Euripides—
And that's enough for fifty hopes and fears.
As old and new at once as nature's self,
To rap and knock and enter in our soul,
Take hands and dance there ....
Berkeley died at Oxford — they were reading a volume of sermons
to him, and he suddenly collapsed — and is buried in the cathedral.
What an opportunity was missed, therefore, at the recent meeting
in Oxford of the British Medical Association. It is the custom at
these annual meetings that a special service should be held for members
of the Association. But the preacher never mentioned Berkeley,
though his monument is but a few feet from the pulpit. Berkeley,
who propounded a theory of vision, and wrote that amazing essay
on tar-water, and was in close touch with such physiology as there
was in the days of Queen Anne ; who ought, indeed, to have been
a doctor, and is a better guide for medical students than all the
unprincipled 'experimental psychology' of our own time — he was
left without a word of conmiendation. It cannot be helped now ;
but a discourse might have been made to the doctors on the text :
Something there w of divine and admirdble in this language, addressed
to ou/r eyes, that may well awaken the mind and deserve its utmost
attention.
Stephbn Paget.
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190S
THE HEBREW AND THE BABYLONIAN
COSMOLOGIES
Is the Hebrew account of the creation of the world derived from the
Babylonian cosmogony ? It has so often and so positively been
asserted recently, both in England and on the Continent, that such is
undoubtedly the case that it may seem rash for us to ask such a ques-
tion. But our age is an age of inquiry, quite as much as one of
theories and hypotheses. Hence we claim the right to examine the
subject for ourselves, though by doing so we venture to indicate our
hesitation about yielding assent to the most emphatically reiterated
dicto of not a few leaders of modem thought. It will be granted that
this matter cannot be settled by assertions. We must have indubitable
evidence laid before us, so that we may be able to come to a satis-
factory conclusion one way or the other.
Those who hold that the Biblical account of Creation is derived
from the Babylonian contend that this conclusion is self-evident from
a mere comparison between the two. If so, no very great amount of
learning is required to enable us all to appreciate the argument. All
we have to do is to read the two accounts, or rather the four, for
there are at least two totally distinct Babylonian myths on the sub-
ject, and critics tell us that they have found exactly the same number
of separate narratives of the Creation in the first two chapters of
Genesis. The question is. Are these Hebrew accounts so strikingly
similar to the Babylonian ones that we are compelled to believe
that the former are derived from the latter ? In spite of the loud-
ness of the assertions that such is the case, we find on inquiry
that some men of considerable learning confess themselves as yet
unconvinced.
It is a remarkable fact that assertions very similar to that which
we have mentioned have been made in the past in connection with
other cosmogonies. When the existence of the marvellously copious
Sanskrit literature, for example, was first made known in Europe, we
were assured that no man of learning and sober judgment could
doubt that the writer of the Hebrew narrative had borrowed from
liylM the main features of his account. To prove this the following
259
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260 THE NINETEENTH CENTUEY Aug.
passage was quoted from Manu's Dharmai&stra (book i, ilokas
5-13):
Tliie (universe) was dark, tinreoognisable, undistrnguished, unimaginable,
unknowable, as if asleep, in all directions. Then the Self-Existent, the Wor-
shipful, not manifest, making manifest this (universe) beginning with the
grosser elements, appeared, mighty, darkness-dispelling. He who is this
transcendentally perceptible, subtile, not manifest, eternal (Being), containing
all beings, incomprehensible, He indeed came into existence of Himself.
Having meditated. He, desirous of creating various descendants from His own
body, first created just the waters. In them He placed a seed. That become
a golden egg, resplendent as the thousand-rayed (sun). In it was bom Brahm&
Himself, the grandfather of all the world. ... In that egg that Worshipful
(being) having shone a full year. He Himself indeed through His own medita-
tion split that egg in twain. From those two pieces He constructed both sky
and earth, heaven in the midst, and the eight cardinal points, and the permanent
station of the waters.
We are now able to quote a* far earlier passage to strengthen the
argument. In the Rig-Veda (Mandala z., hynm 129) we read :
Then death was not, immortality was not, light of night, of day, there was
not : that One thing breathed breathless of Itself, nothing else was there beside
It, whatever was. At first there was darkness enveloped in darkness; un-
Olumined was all this ocean : when emptiness was concealed in the void, then
mightily was the One thing born from heat. Then first Desire arose, the seed
of Mind, the first which was.
Yet is there at the present time a single scholar of any repute
who would venture to assert that the Hebrew account is derived
from India ? There are doubtless certain resemblances between
Genesis and these Indian cosmogonies ; as, for instance, the mention
of darkness preceding light ; but the differences are too great to permit
us for a moment to maintain what was for a time deemed a great
discovery.
So, also, when European scholars had become acquainted with
Zoroastrianism and its sacred books, de Lagarde endeavoured to
maintain that the author of Genesis i. had borrowed many of the
leading features of his account from ancient Persian beUef. This
theory, again, though its novelty for a time attracted some attention,
now^finds not a single supporter.
. From these two instances, and others that might be mentioned,
it is evident that the theory that the author of the first two chapters
of Genesis borrowed from the mjrthology of other nations is not by
any means a new one. The 'discovery' of the * source' of the
BibUcal narrative of Creation has again and again been made, only to
be disproved. It does not therefore follow that the ' discovery ' of
its source in the Babylonian Creation Tablets is unfounded ; but such
facts as those we have mentioned should make us careful to investi-
gate the matter most thoroughly, lest the next generation should
smile at our creduhty, as we do at that of our predecessors.
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Our knowledge of the Babylonian Creation myths is not altogether
new. B^dssos, Nioolaus Damascenus, Alexander Polyhistor^ Damas-
cius, and Ensebius have handed down muoh fragmentary information
about the matter; and the Cuneiform Tablets^ though they have
enabled us to test the accuracy of this inf ormation^ and have in large
measure confirmed it, have nevertheless filled up the laounoB in our
knowledge rather than afforded us very much absolutely new instruc-
tion on the subject. It is at least very doubtful whether the discovery
of the Creation Tablets has so greatly increased our knowledge that
it must of necessity work any revolution in our ideas as to the con-
nection between these early Babylonian legends and the first few
chapters of (Genesis. Yet it seems to be generally assumed that this
is so. It should, however, be observed that the discovery of the
Tell-el-Amama Tablets has shown that, even before the conquest of
Palestine by the IsraeUtes, Babylonian Uterature was studied in that
country and even in Egypt. Hence it cannot be doubted that the
Babylonian mythology, its epic poetry, and its cosmologies were
known in Canaan in those times, and probably much earlier. Whether,
therefore, we assume with the Higher Critics that Genesis i.-ii. 4 (a)
was composed in Babylonia * about 500 b.o., Gtonesis ii. 11-15 in-
dosive in Palestine about 650 b.o., and the rest of Genesis ii. about
850 B.O., or adhere to the older view of the Mosaic authorship or
compilation of the book, it cannot be denied that — especially in the
latter case — the compiler of the book was most probably acquainted
with the documents which we are about to consider. But it is quite
a different thing to assert that he must therefore have borrowed his
account from them. We are all possibly acquainted with the Greek
account of DeucaUon's flood as related by Ovid ; yet it would be rash
to declare that all Christian writers who have referred to the Deluge
have derived their teaching from the Metamorphoses. Among other
leasons why this cannot be held as a tenable view is the fact that
such writers differ from Ovid both in details and in their theology.
Christian writers on the subject tell us nothing of Jupiter's anger
being excited because of Lycaon's impious banquet; nothing of
PoBeidon's interference to assist DeucaUon and Pyrrha ; nothing of
tiie council of the gods, and of Themis's command to throw stones,
and how these were changed into men and women. Yet it
will be seen that the resemblance between Ovid's account of the
Flood and that which Milton gives in Paradise Lost,^ for instance,
is far greater than exists between Babylonian and Biblical cosmo-
logy. Milton undoubtedly knew the Metamorphoses, and the writer
or compiler of Gtonesis very possibly knew the Babylonian Creation
Tablets ; but it does not therefore necessarily follow that he plagiarised
■ Potychrome Bible : Genesis, ed. C. J. Ball, introduotoiy note.
« Bookxi.
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262 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Aug.
or in any way borrowed from them. As Hilton had quite a diJlteient
souice from which he drew, so it is possible had the compiler of
Genesis.
Of the two Babylonian accounts of Creation we take first the one
preserved for us on the tablets discovered by Mr. Hormuzd Rassam,
at Sippara, in 1882.' Its antiquity is shown not only by the fact that
the cities mentioned in it are among the earUest ever built, but also
by its being entitled * A Charm,' and its recital being held so sacred
as to have a purificatory effect. We possess the original Accadian
text, together with its translation into Semitic Babylonian. It may
be thus rendered :
A Charm. The Holy House, the house of the gods, had not been made in
the holy place, a reed had not sprung np, a tree had not been created, a brick
had not been laid, a brick-mould had not been made, a house had not been
made, a city had not been built, a city had not been constructed, mankind
dwelt not, Nippur had not been built, £.Kur had not been constructed, Erech
had not been built, £-Anna had not been erected, the abyss had not been
made, the city f!ridu had not been constructed. As for the Holy House,
the house of tiie gods, its site existed not, and the whole of the lands were
sea. When there was a waterspring in the midst of the sea, in that day
£!ridu was built, £-8ag-gil was erected, the House of the King of the Abyss,
which the god (£A), King of the Holy Mound, founded in the midst of the
Abyss. Babel was built, £-gag-gil was completed. He made the gods (and)
the Spirits of the earth together. They proclaimed it aloud as the holy city,
the abode in which their hearts delighted. Merodach bound a net ^ on the face
of the waters : dust he made and with the sea he poured it out. He brought
the gods into the abode in which his heart delighted. He made men. The
goddess Aruru made the seed of men with him. He made the cattle of the
wilderness, the possessor of life in the wilderness. Then he created the Tigris
and the Euphrates in their places, he favourably proclaimed their name. The
sprout, the clay of the marsh, reed, and forest he made. He made the grass of
the wilderness, the lands, marshes, and bulrushes, the wild cow (and) her
young the wild steer, the ewe (and) her olSiEipring the lamb of the fold, planta-
tions and forests also. The buck of the wild goat stands submissive (?) to him.
The lord Merodach fiUcd up an embankment at the edge of the sea, where he
had not formerly placed a reed.
The next few lines are too much broken to translate, but they
tell of the building of the temples of £]-Eur and £]-Anna. Another
fragment mentions the creation of the cattle and the beasts of the
field by the gods, and the erection of * a small city ' for men to dwell
in, where ^ the assembly of mankind ' was ruled by the god Nin-igi-
azag (' lord of the bright eye '), a name of flA or AE. The goddess
Gula is also mentioned.
It is interesting to notice in the Accadian text of this legend the
words addam (Adam) and Sdin (Eden), which were afterwards adopted
* Published in Cuneiform Texts in the British Museum, part ziii. plates 85 to 88.
With my version, c/. translation by Professor Sayoe in BeUgions of Ancient Egypt
and Babylonia, pp. 880, 881. Vide also Dr. Pinches, The Old Testament in the Light
of the Historicdl Records of Assyria and Babylonia,
* Professor Sayce well renders ' a weir.'
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1906 HEBBEW AND BABYLONIAN COSMOLOGIES 268
into Hebrew. The former word is not, however, in Accadian the
name of the first man, who was called Adapa. .^n merely means
a wilderness or nncoltivated plain, and afterwards became applied
to the plain in which Babylon stood. In neither case is the Accadian
word retained in the Semitic Babylonian version. The word rendered
' waterspnng ' is rod (it may also be read sid) in Accadian and raium
in the Semitic version. This is, curiously enough, all but identical
in form with the Sanskrit word ratdy which denotes *the river of
heaven, the celestial Gk^nges.' ° We are too wise now to found any
argument, however, on such a coincidence, which is merely casual,
but much would doubtless have been made of it a generation ago.
This Accadian legend bears a certain resemblance to the Old Norse
one in the younger Edda, where we read :
The beginning of ages was
When no one was :
There was nor shore nor sea,
Nor cool waves.
Earth was nowhere found,
Nor high heaven,
There was the Qinnung-chasm,
But grass nowhere.'
However, Niflheim (the * Cloud-world ') somehow came into exist-
ence, ^ and in the midst of it lies the spring that is called Surging
Cauldron,' from which flowed a number of rivers that fall into the
Ginnung-chasm. Here, as in the Accadian legend, the * spring'
seems to be in some way a fountain of Hfe, but we can hardly say
that one is derived from the other.
If we compare this Accadian Creation-myth with the narrative in
the second and third chapters of Genesis, the differences will at once
become obvious. In the Accadian account we have two gods and a
pair of goddesses mentioned by name, besides a reference to others.
The mythical dty of flridu [firi-dug-ga, ' the good city '], supposed
to be the abode of £]a, was situated beneath the waters of the Persian
Gulf (* in the midst of the Abyss '), though its name was reproduced
m that of the city which stood where the mounds of Abu Shahrain
now mark its site. ' The Holy Mound ' {Tthozag-ga) arose in the
midst of the mythical £ridu, and probably represented the eastern
sky, since in an inscription we are told that the sun rises from it. It
reminds us of the Mount M6ru of the Hindus and the Olympus of
the Greeks, as the abode of the gods, while the mythical £lridu recalls
the Asgardh of our Scandinavian ancestors. Nothing whatever of
this kind meets us in (Genesis, where the monotheism is pure and
lofty, and where a garden and not a ^ small city ' is the abode of the
first human couple, whereas the Accadian myth speaks of the
* Monier WiUiams, Sanaknt Dictionary, new ed. 8,v,
• Oylfaginfvung IV. (from V^lttspd, 6).
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264 THE NINETEENTH CENTUB7 Aug.
* assembly of mankind/ If, then, as is very probable, the writer of
the second and thiid chapters of Genesis was acquainted with this
Accadian legend, it is evident that he delibeiately contradicted it
in very important particulars. In order to do so he must have had
some other source of information, whether Hebrew tradition or some-
thing else. Very certain it is that he did not draw his lofty concep-
tion of Qoi from Babylonia.
The second Babylonian account of Creation consists of a narrative
or poem which occupied at least five, and probably seven, tablets,
each containing over 120 lines. It begins thus :
When ^ the heavens abc/ve had not proclauned (and) the earth beneath had
not mentioned a name, then the primaeval abyss was their begetter, Mnmma
TiAmat was the mother of them all, and their waters were united into one.
A field had not yet been marked out, a marsh had not yet been seen. When
the gods had not appeared, not one, a name they had not mentioned,
destiny they had not fixed : then the gods Ei-[Sar and An-£arJ were made, the
god Lakhmu and the goddess Lakhamu appeared. Until they grew up . . .
An-Sar and Ei-Sar were being made. The days and the ni[ghts] were prolonged.
The god Ann his father . . . An-sar the god Anu . . . : the god Ann. . . .
Here the tablet breaks off. The greater part of the remainder
of the poem relates how the god Aniar sent one after another of the
gods to fight with Tiamat and her hosts, representing the Ocean, but
none of them succeeded except Merodach. We are told of a council
of the gods, and how they feasted together, drinking wine until they
staggered, how they chose Merodach as their champion and sent
him forth armed to contest with Tiamat for the ' Tablets of Destiny.'
Having overthrown her, we are told :
Then the lord (bShtm) trod down Ti&mat*s loins, and with his misparing
battle-axe he cleft the skull. He then cat asunder the veins of her blood,
which the north wind carried off to hidden places. ... He divided the decayed
fiesh, he made clever works : accordingly he broke her in two like a crashed
fish. He made halves of her and shaded over the heavens, he fastened the
bolt {or the skin), he appointed a guardian and conmianded concerning her
waters that he should not let them come forth. He passed through the sky, he
viewed the places, and over against the abyss he placed the abode of Nudunmud
(£SA). Then the lord of the abyss measured out creation as the foundation, he
found in its likeness a palace £-Bar-ra ('House of Plenty*)* The palace
!^-8ar-ra which he made is the heavens. For Anu, Bel, and £a he £Dunded
their city.^ He formed the stations of the great gods, he set up stars in their
likeness as constellations. He appointed the year, he marked out its bounds,
he set up the twelve months, with three stars each, firom the day when the
year begins until the limits (thereof). He founded the station of Nibir
(Jupiter?) for the purpose of fixing their bounds, so that they might not
' CuMiform TexU in the BriUah Museum, part xiii., plates 1 to 38 inclusiTe.
* Hesiod has a passage which is almost a poetical version of this {Theog. 196-
128) :—
Ttua Z4 TOi wpGrop ^ir iytiwro Ivov iavrf
Oifpt^hp itffrtp6tv€\ lya luw wtpl wima KoK^mot,
Sfp* cfi} luatifWffi $toU Hot ha^ak^s tdtU
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1906 HEBBEW AND BABYLONIAN COSMOLOGIES 266
eommh traiiBgresaioii, might not wander, any one (of them). He made finn
along with it the station of Bel and £a. Then he opened great gates at both
sides, the bars of the earth, left and right : in* her middle (liver) he erected
ascents. He made Nannar (the moon-god) bright, to him did he intrust the
night : he appointed nnto him the government of the night tmtil the dawn of
day. ' Prosper thon with thy erown monthly without ceasing : at the beginning
of the month rising in the land thon shalt announce the horns imto the dawn
of six days : on the seventh day raise thou up (?) the crown.*
ThiB, we are solemnly assured by many critics, is the original
sooroe from which was borrowed the first chapter of Qenesis (to the
middle of chapter ii. 4) !
In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was
without form and void ; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the
Spirit of God moved upon (brooded over) the face of the waters. And God
said. Let there be light : and there was light.
Englishmen have not yet so far forgotten their Bible as to make
it necessary to quote the whole passage.
While it is clear that there are certain resemblances between the
Hebrew narrative and the Babylonian (as was to be expected from
the fact that both are accounts of the creation of the universe), yet
it is quite enough to read them both in order to perceive that the
differences between them are vital. In the Babylonian legend we have
the idea of the original existence of matter, out of which heaven and
earth, the deities supernal and infernal, and other things were evolved.
The strange story of how the members of Tiamat were utilised by
Merodach must denote something of this kind. The Hebrew narra-
tive, in direct opposition to this, begins with the words which so
profoundly impressed Longinus in days of old, ^In the beginning
God created the heaven and the earth.* It is worthy of remark
that in this respect the Hebrew account differs toto ccbIo from almost
all other descriptions of the origin of the universe, whether mytho-
logical ones, like those given by Hesiod and Ovid, Manu, the iiig-
Yeda, and the Eddas, or philosophical, like that of Anaxagoras and
other ancient sages. The Bible tells of creation; the Babylonian
legend might be better described as cosmogony, in which even the
gods (as in Greek legend) are sprung from heaven and earth. Again,.
(Senesis is absolutely opposed to the polytheism which shows itself so
unreservedly in the Babylonian legend. The prominent feature in
the latter is the war between Merodach and Tiamat, which reminds
us of the contest between Ouranos and the Hundred-handed Giants
and Titans, or of that between Zeus and Eronos. It is hardly neces-
sary to say that in Genesis we find absolutely nothing whatever of
this sort. On the other hand, the systematic division of creation
into groups, and the mention of the seven * days ' of creation, both
BO noteworthy in the Hebrew narrative, are found there alone, and
are clearly foreign to the Babylonian legend. Even in the first verse
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266 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Aug.
of Qenesis the conception of Grod is totally difierent from, and in a
separate plane from, tliat of the Babylonian deities, male and female,
eating and drinking, fighting with material weapons, fearing for their
power, and contending for the possession of the * Tablets of Destiny/
very much as Homer's nectar-and-ambroBia*deyouring gods fought
around the walls of Troy.
It is not too much to say that, purely on critical grounds, it is
impossible to congratulate the Higher Critics on their ^ discovery ' of
the ^ source ' of the first few chapters of Genesis in the Babylonian
Creation Tablets. It would be a much more plausible theory to
maintain that Greek mythology had that origin, and in support of
that theory it might be stated with perfect truth that the Greek
ayyi^v^ a>yrjvo9, or in its later form oDKBavoSf is derived from the
Accadian ugin used in these tablets, as is a^vaaos from the Babylonian
ap^ in Accadian written zu-ah. Or, again, it would be tempting to
suggest that the Indian legend of Puruahay the Norse tale of Ymir,
and the Chinese myth of Pan-hu were all derived from that of the
slaughter of Tiamat and the creation of sky and earth out of her
remains. These strange legends are certainly in great measure identical
with one another, however we may account for the fact. Again, in
the Persian Ma^navi of Maulana-yi Rumi we find a line which bears
so striking Ia resemblance to the style of the beginning of the second
Babylonian Creation-mjrth that, were it not for our knowledge that
such a thing is impossible, we should be driven to conclude that this
Persian poet had actually read these tablets. His words are :
Man &n rdz biidam kih osmft na btld :
Nish&n az vnjiid mnsammft nabftd.
(I existed on that day that names existed not : there was not named a trace
of existence.)
Such strange coincidences and resemblances should be properly
allowed for in considering the question whether, on the ground of
much slighter resemblances and in spite of such striking contradictions
as exist between the Hebrew and the Babylonian Creation narratives^
we are justified in concluding and affirming with certainty that the
writer of Genesis borrowed his^materials for his account of Creation
from ancient Babylonian legends.
W. St. Claib Tisdall.
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THE CAMARGUE
Nkab Aries in Provence, and partly in its Commune, the Rhone has
accmnolated in its bed a vast mass of alluvial matter on which it
breaks as on the apex of a triangle, and flowing east and west of it
to the sea forms the delta of the Camargia, or He de Camargue. Hoff-
man, writing some 200 years ago in his Lexicon Universaie, speaks of
it as insuia amnica OM, meUua CaOra Mariana et Campus Marii,
where the Roman general, Cains Marius, had his camp against the
Cimbri and the Teuton and Tigurian hordes B.C. 125, suggesting that
the French title Camargue was derived from the Latin Caii Marii
ager. The derivation, however, from the Greek xafia^, a reed, and
07^0^, a field, would be sufficiently descriptive of the island to the
Gauls before the days of its agricultural development.
This reclaimed land, of about 200,000 acres, is composed of sand,
gravel, and mud, with a thick crust of humus, and the eye of the
geologist detects the separate contributions to this formation of the
rivers Durance and Is^re in their course from the Alps, and the Saone
from the Vosgee, as well as the direct one of the Rhone, which, descend-
ing from the Swiss glaciers, collects and carries along the whole burden
to its resting-place. The arm of the Rhone, which embraces the
island on the east, divides it from the plain of La Crau, described
by tiie traveller, Arthur Young, in 1787, as * one of the most singular
districts in France for its soil, or, rather, want of soil, being apparently
a region of sea flints, yet feeding great herds of sheep.' On the island
itself a stone cannot be found, it is said, even at a considerable depth.
The Camargue is interesting in many respects, and deserves to be
better known than it is. The average tourist halts at Aries as a matter
of course to see its classic remains, its beautiful women, and its bull-
fights ; but of the Camargue he knows nothing. And yet, if he would
shoot or fish, he would find good use for his gun and rod on the island
and its lagunes ; or if he would paint pictures, no lack of fine subjects
of land, water, and sky for a broad brush. He would see there also
in their native liberty the wild black bulls which supply the amphi-
theatres of Nfmes and Aries, and the modem arines of Marseilles
and Avignon ; the small white horses of wide fame (to which we shall
refer more particularly later), and, perhaps, the purest types of Arl6-
sienne beauty.
267
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268 THE NINETEENTH CENTUB7 Aug.
By the people of the Alpes Maritiines the term La Petite Afrique
is given to that portion of the French Riviera which lies between
Beanlieu and Cap Ronx. The title is suggested by the palms, cacti»
aloes, and other semi-tropical vegetation which flourish on that
sunny shore, and also, perhaps, by the association of the region with
the African hordes, generically termed Saracens, who were esta-
blished near Villefranche as late as the early part of the tenth century.
Again, the discoveries of the palseontologist in the same district
bring to mind the East, and give colour to the titie, for in some of the
deposits near BeauUeu and Nice have been found the bones of the
rhinoceros, hippopotamus, and elephant. To the imagination of the
Provenfal the Gamargue is another little Africa ; its bare and arid
sands, its vast horizons, its mystic mirage, its wild herds, its mos-
quitoes and plagues of locusts, its strange birds, its horses, probably
of Arab descent, and, we may add, its donkeys (which are an institu-
tion in the island), all suggest the great dark continent. In the
Gamargue, too, the Saracens estabUshed themselves until they were
driven out in the eighth century by Gharles Martel. There are even,
perhaps, remains of Moorish architecture near by — ^to witness, the
great square towers which dominate the Roman amphitheatre at
Aries. The principal village of the island, Saintes-Maries, on the
sea border, much resembles an Eastern town, with its white bare walls,
its narrow alleys, and its church of the form of a citadel surrounded
by ramparts. Though not the work of the Saracens — ^for the citadel
church was not built until 400 years after their expulsion — ^its fortress-
like character was due to the design of protecting it from the constant
attacks of the Moorish pirates of Algiers and Tunis, who sought the
base of the delta as a Tpoint d^wpyui for their incursions inland. The
Gamargue is associated in another way with the East. According
to a very venerable tradition it was here that Providence landed
safe and sound a number of the early Ghristian disciples who had
been cast adrift by the Jews on a dismantled ship, without chart or
food, and left to tiie mercy of the waves. A quaint old French song
describes the event with force, if not with tenderness :
Entrez, Sara, dans la nacelle,
Lazare, Marthe et Maximin,
Cl^on, Trophime, Saturain,
Lea trois Maries et MarceUe,
Eutrope et Martial, Sidoine avec Joseph,
Vous p^rirez dans cette nef.
Allez sans voile, et sans cordage,
Sans m&t, sans ancre, sans trinon,
Sans aliments, sans aviron,
Allez faire on triste nanfrage I
Betirez-Yous d*ioi, laissez-nous en repos,
Aller crever parmi les flots.
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1906 THE CAMABGUE 269
Tradition is often vexing, throwing a flash of light on an obscure
place, and withdrawing it just as we begin to see our way, but in
this instance it pursues the wanderings of these first Apostles of
(jaul long after their delivery from a watery grave. Thus, Mary
Magdalene betook herself to the desert of Ste. Baume, there to do
penance for her sins ; Mary, the mother of James, and Mary Salome,
with their servant Sara, after spreading the new faith amongst the
people of the Alpines, returned to Camargue and died there, and
are the patron saints of the island ; Martha, having deUvered Tarascon
Erom a terrible dragon, ended her days in a small house on the banks
of the Rhone ; Lazarus carried the Gospel to Marseilles ; Trophimus
became the first bishop of Aries, and Joseph of Arimathea travelled
as far as England !
Provence has well been called ' la p^pinidre du reste de la France.*
M. Vivien de St. Martin writes : ' It is difficult to-day to find a plant
in the flora of the department which is not exotic. The orange,
lemon, citron, pomegranate from the shores of Africa; the oUve,
pistache, jujube, and plane from Syria; the white mulberry from
China, the Ulac from Persia, the chestnut from Asia, the aloe and
cassia from America' — all these are to be seen in the luxuriant
gardens of the mas or farmsteads of the Camargue. We learn from
Humboldt {Natwette Eapagne) that rice was introduced into Europe
by the Arabs, probably in the first instance through Spain, and later
into France by the Camargue, where it is now grown with success.
Large numbers of foreign birds resort to the island, including the
African and Arabian partridge, the white mew, the flamingo, the
pelican, and it is even said the ibis.
Considered from an economic point of view as a source of wealth,
the achievement of this comer of France has been disappointing ;
however, the efforts of the islanders afford an object lesson in
patience and industry as apphed to farming and viticulture under .
prodigious difficulties. Being only some ten feet above sea-level,
and considerably below the high floods of the Rhone, the integrity
of the Camargue was constantly threatened, and it was Uable to
frequent inundations, and so could hardly have been seriously culti-
vated in early times. The Romans in that part of Provence were
occupied with other matters than the reclaiming of the Camargue —
with building temples, bridges, theatres, aqueducts, triumphal arches
and baths at Aries, with designs upon Massiha, for the siege of which
Caesar built twelve ships at this ' Rome of Gaul ' {De BeUo Civili).
By the Saracens, whose tenure of the island was an imcertain one,
it would be principally used for pasturage. Their position in France
was much the same as that of the Spanish in Spain who were driven
before the Moorish invaders in the eighth century, being, as Buckle
says, 'subject to such incessant surprises and forays on the part
of the enemy as to make it advisable that their means of subsistence
Vol. LVni— No. 342 T
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270 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Aug.
should be eaaily removed.' In oUier words, both the Spanish in
Spain and the Saracens in Franoe were obliged by force of circum-
stances to be shepherds rather than agriculturists. No serious attempt
to cultivate the Gamargue could have been made whilst Visigoths,
Franks, Ostrogoths, Burgundians and Qermans were contending for
possession, and securing it in turn, of this part of the country.
In comparatively recent times the French Government, deter-
mined to protect the island from the incursions of the river,
surrounded it with dikes. These dikes, however, by serving the
piirpose intended, acted prejudicially to its agncultural value.
M. Lenth^c complained in 1881 that the Bhone no longer over-
flowed the island, no longer washed out the salt from its muddy
soil, that the marshes, formerly purified by the river, had become
stagnant and pestilential, and that even the cUmate had suffered
by diverting the cool currents of the Bhone. He says, ^ Si la Gamargue
doit devenir jamais le jardin de la Provence et la Hollande de la
France, nous sommes encore bien loin du jour ou il nous sera possible
d'en r^aliser les richesses et d'en recolter les fruits.' During the last
twenty years, however, great improvements have been made. The
dikes remain, and must remain, but canals have been cut in all direc-
tions for the irrigation and dessalement of the soil ; the rich mud of
the river has been carried to some portions of the island that formerly
were arid and unproductive ; and in particular a remarkable stimulus
has been given to viticulture. The vines are submerged every winter
by the Rhone, and it is alleged that by this artificial irrigation they
are protected from the dread phylloxera, and their returns are proUfic.
In 1885 there were about 8,000 acres of vines, whilst to-day there are
over 20,000 acres. M. Louis Bousselet says that ' the yield is often
200 hectoUtres per hectare,' which, if correct, is a prolific return
indeed ! The great wine-growing departments of the Gironde and
Cote d'Or yield an average of twenty hectolitres and seventeen hecto-
litres of wine respectively per hectare, and according to the statistics
of M. Chambrelent the Gamargue produces an average of over fifty
hectolitres per hectare — ^that is, some twenty-three hogsheads of
wine from rather less than two and a half acres. Nearly two-thirds
of the cultivated area of the Gamargue are devoted to vines ; the
remainder produces com, maize, rice, manna, madder root, &c. The
kelp which grows in the marshy section of the island is abundant,
and finds a market at Aries and Marseilles, where it is employed in
the manufacture of soap and glass, whilst large quantities of iodine
are made from the residues.
About 75,000 acres of the Gamargue are pasture, and feed in
the winter months a quarter of a miUion sheep. The small white
horses of the Gamargue, now in number some 2,000 only, wander
about the seemingly boundless steppes at full liberty. They are
captured from time to time, and used in the island to thresh the
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1906 THE CAMABGUE 271
com. These are supposed to have been jGiist introduced into the
Camargue by the Romans, and afterwards by the Saraoens. They
have distinctiy a foreign appearance, recalUng the Arab or the CJossack.
On tiie other hand, according to M. Huzard, their origin is much lees
ancient and goes back only to the hcuras libre formed by the order of
Louis the Fifteenth. It is difficult to reconcile this with the fact
that the Camisards, upon the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, early
in the mghteenth century, used the horses of the Camargue in their
guerilla warfare against Louis the Fourteenth. ^Whatever their
origin, whether foreign or native, the horses of the Camargue to-day
are the product almost exclusively of the influences of the environ-
ment in which they have propagated from time immemorial.' The
iMshop of Senez, writing in 1600, in his Flews de la Camargue^ says
that at that time there were some 4,000 mares in the island, from
which it would appear that these animals must have had a consider-
able commercial value in his day. M. Gayot describes the horse
of the Camargue as small, agile, good-tempered, spirited, courageous,
and capable of abstaining for a long time from food, and of resisting
great variations of temperature. ^ H se reproduit toujours le meme,
malgr6 PStat de d^tresse dans lequel le retiennent PoubU et I'incurie.'
These quahties should assure the race a long Ufe. In the opinion
of Professor Magne the horse of the Camargue must live in a wild
state ; and the first effect of the great transformation that is going
on for improving the sanitation of the island will be the disappearance
of its horses.
One would suppose that these hardy little animals would be
admirably adapted for the farmer in South Africa, where they would
not be pampered, and might be allowed a large measure of freedom.
The garden of Provence, that is to say the Riviera between Hyeres
and Nice, has been called ^ the true paradise of the troubadours.'
It is easy to beUeve that the physical influences of that smiUng region,
tlie warm and impressionable temperament of its people, their love
of music and romance, and, withal, their reUgious fervour, were
favourable to the evolution of the troubadour in the dajrs of adven-
ture and diivalry. But these poets of the Middle Ages found, in an
eninrcmment less favoured by Nature than the Riviera, a hospitaUty
no less generous to their muse. Every part of Provence, Languedoc,
and Aquitaine testifies to this. Without naming the trotw^es speak-
ing tiie Umgue d^oU (the troubadours of the North), the verse of Raynols,
Ogiers, Magrat and Folquet of the school of Vienne, Bernard de
Ventadour of Limousin, Pierre Vidal of Toulouse and many others,
not (Hily f oimd inspiration far from t^e fragrance of the perfumed
hilk of Les Maures in the Yar, but perhaps acquired from the more
bracing influence of their surroundings a viriUty lacking in the com-
poffitions of the bards in southern Provence.
The Proven9al poets of the present day who have been crowned
t2
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272 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Aug.
at the Jeux Floraux and Fetes FelibreSy and whose fame has travelled
beyond their own country, are natives of the district round about
the Camargue. We refer to Roumanille, Aubanel, and Mistral,
whose visions have come to them under the shadow of the naked
slopes of the Alpines, in the deserts of St. Bemy, the pestilential
plains of Aigues Mortes, and amongst the ruins of Tarascon ; who
have foimd music in the winds of Avignon (Avenio fastidiosa)^ and
sermons in the stones of La Crau. M. Mistral speaks of the ' sombre
barren Crau, to the twelve winds open — the mute, the desolated,'
and yet this same country and the neighbouring Camargue, where
the aspect of Nature is often sad and sometimes severe, has had a
message for him : it is hence that the poet has drawn inspiration for
his chef'd^csumcy Mir^io, We are indebted to an able translation
from the Proveufal of that beautiful poem, published at Avignon
in 1867, for a description of the wilderness of the Camargue :
A plain ixmnense,
Savannas that present no limit
But the horizon ; marshes, bitter prairies
Where, luxuriating in the briny air,
Black oxen and white horses freely roam,
For only vegetation at rare intervals —
Some tamarisks, sodas, shavegrass,
Golden-herb and salicomes ; at times
A sea-gull ; or a long-legged hermit.
Casting as he flies across the ponds
His shadow ; or a red-legged chevalier.
Or hem with a fierce look, that proudly erects
His crest of three white plumes composed.
The sun,
Now rising to his zenith, glares
Ferociously, and like an Abyssinian lion.
Ravenous for food, devours the desert
With a look.
That the beauty of the women of the Camargue is not of French
tjrpe, nor Spanish, nor ItaUan, nor Basque, is certain. Is it Greek 1
So good an authority as M. Lenth^ric repUes to this in the affirmative.
We ask, simply, is it a pure type at all ? The consideration, however,
of this interesting question is beyond the scope of this paper^ but
we may say briefly that type is preserved only in products of simple
race-compoimds, and disappears altogether when they become very
complex — or, that out of complex compounds new types are formed.
The beauty of the Arl6sienne is the product of the fusion of many
types, and is a type of its own. As the soil in which it has been
evolved has nurtured a larger variety of the fruits and flowers of foreign
lands than any other soil, so, in no part of France has there been
such a fusion of racial types as in the region of this little Africa.
David H. Wilson, M.A., LL.M.
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1905
THE MACARONIS
Time, wUch so easily dims the remembrance even of the great facts
of history, speedily smothers its minor incidents in oblivion, and
the fame of the Macaronis has bowed to the inexorable law. The
jingle which tells of Yankee Doodle's journey to town, if it still lingers
m our nurseries, is almost the only record of them which survives ;
and their very title retains so little of its old significance that it has
been mistaken for a pet name for Italian Rentes. But some himdred
and thirty years ago they were on the top of the tide. Everjrthing
fashionable was ^4 la Macaroni.' There were the Turf Macaronis,
the Parade Macaronis, Macaroni Dancing Masters, and, somewhat
strangely. Macaroni scholars and Qrub Street Macaronis. Even the
pdpit was invaded by their influence, and the clergy had their wigs
combed, their hair cut, and their delivery refined * ^ la Macaroni.' The
epilogue to a play entitled The Macaroni, which appeared in 1773,
contains these lines :
The world's so Macarony'd grown of late,
That ooinmoQ mortals now are out of date ;
No single class of men their merit claim,
Or high, or low, in faith His all the same.
The interest, however, which these Macaronis excited was not
all admiration, and the press of the day indulged in the most venomous
attacks upon them. In an * Apostrophe to Fashion ' appearing in the
Vniversdl Magazine of June 1772 the writer exclaims :
Man is thine, and woman too : the world is thine. . . . Nor least, though
last, that taper, trim, two-legged Bagatelle, that soft-£AC*d, soft-hearted thing,
with a great head and nothing in it, thy well-beloved Macaroni For thee he
dances, dresses, ogles, limps ; for thee he straddles upon tip-toe, lisps like a
sempstress, skips upon carpets, and ambles round Ladies* knees ; for thee he
qnits hii manhood, and is that amphibious, despicable thing that we see him.
The October number of the same year contains an article entitled
' A New Description of a Macaroni.' The description is not remark-
able for its novelty, as it merely reiterates the current abuse ; but
if it lacks originality it is not wanting in bitterness.
After some physiological speculations on the Macaroni's origin,
278
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274 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Aug.
which can hardly be reproduced, and an attack on his dress, the
writer proceeds to deal with his manners, which
are still more strange than hia dress. He is the sworn foe of all learning, and
even sets simple orthography at defiance ; for all learned fellows who can spell
and write sense are either queer dogs or poor rogues, both which he hates
mortally. They are even with him.
He is also a mass of affectation.
If yon see him at the theatre, he will scarcely wink without his opera glass,
which he wiU thrust into a Lady's face, and then simper, and be * pruddigissly
entertenned' with her confusion. He laughs at religion, because it is too
rational a pleasure for him to conceive : he hates it therefore as much as he
hates fighting. ... He hates all drinking — except tea, oapillaire, and posset ;
and detests those rude nasty fellows, who drink the generous grape, or swallow
punch, or the fumes of tobacco. In short he loves nobody but himself; and by
nobody, except himself, is he beloved.
Though the animus which breathes through this otherwise rather
feeble tirade detracts from its value as testimony, it probably repre-
sents fairly weQ the middle-class opinion of the day, which regarded
the Macaroni as an unmanly and fantastic eccentricity, deficient alike
in physical and mental vigour.
But, however despicable the later development of the Macaroni
may have been, the original Macaroni was of a very different type.
To appreciate this we must go back a few years. Most of the coffee
and chocolate houses — some 2,000 in number — ^which flourished in
London in the early part of the eighteenth century, had become,
before the middle of the century, resorts for gambling. Many of
them had a sort of recognised clienUie, professional or otherwise,
but their entrance charge being cheap, usually a penny, bad characters
of all kinds could easily gain admittance. White's Chocolate House
in St. James's Street was at this time the recognised meeting place
for the aristocracy and men of fashion, and aimed at a certain exclusive-
ness. Its entrance charge was sixpence, and, by an unwritten law,
tobacco was only permitted within its precincts in the form of snuff.
If any ignorant visitor called for a pipe he was soon made aware of
his mistake by the sneers of the company and the scorn of the very
waiters. But neither its higher charge nor the superior refinement
of its society availed to exclude the undesirable characters who were
attracted by its high play. Accordingly, after a time, the Slite of its
frequenters formed themselves into a private club which met at the
Chocolate House, but in some rooms set apart for them, to which
the pubHo was not admitted. This was the earliest beginning of
the club movement, which soon developed so rapidly ; for after a time
the public was excluded from the premises altogether, and White's
Chocolate House became White's Club. The exact date of this
transformation is uncertain, but^ it was at some time previous to
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1906 THE MACARONIS 275
1736. All the leading men of tlie day joined it, and, so great was
the competition for membership, that about 1740 a * Young White's '
was formed to relieve the pressure.
By this time the high play at White's had become notorious.
Mrs. Delany, in her correspondence, speaks of it as ^ a pit of destruc-
tion.' * Young White's ' was a chip of the old block in this respect,
and about 1760 the gambling at the two clubs was tremendous. Soon
after this, apparently under some indirect pressure from George
the Third, the high play at both clubs came to an end. The
gambling of their members, however, by no means succumbed to
this reform ; it merely shifted its quarters. For in 1764 a Scotchman
named Macall formed a club, under the patronage of twenty-seven
leading men of fashion, to supply the want. This club, which he
called * Almack's ' — a sort of inversion of his own name — ^had pre-
mises at 5 Pall Mall, and was speedily thronged with the gamblers of
society.
It also attracted some men of a very difierent stamp.
Gibbon, Hume, and Garrick were among its members. Gibbon
says of it that * the style of living, though somewhat expensive, is
exceedingly pleasant, and, notwithstanding the rage of play, I have
found more entertainment and rational society here than in any
other club to which I belong.' This testimony to the intellectual
attractions of Almack's is valuable as coming from Gibbon, who
combined with literature and learning rather a pretty taste in fashion-
able clubs. He belonged to the Cocoa Tree, the Romans and Boodle's,
as well as to Almack's, and in his yoimger days had himself sown
an unpretentious little crop of wild oats. He was consequently
able to balance its virtues and its vices from the commanding position
of a man who has tried both. But indeed it is clear from other sources
that, notwithstanding its high play, Almack's was not merely a gang
of gamblers. It was an assemblage which presented some startling
and piquant contrasts. Wealth, rank, and fashion no doubt led
the revd, with all the vices and foibles of the day in their train ; but
intellect and culture were also represented there, and not only repre-
sented but honoured. And in the midst of it all there arose a sort
of inner society in which these various elements were combined.
The members of this circle, being mostly yoimg, indulged without
restraint in every fashionable extravagance and foppery which caught
their fancy. They lived to the full the life which they found around
them, but their ideas were not limited to mere dissipation. Foreign
travel was imposed as one of the conditions of membership ; many
of them were active politicians ; and many were also distinguished
by literary tastes and attainments. These were the original Maca-
ronis of 1764 ; and so prominently did they come to the front, that
Almack's soon became practically identified with them, and got to
be known as the ' Macaroni Club.' Walpole, writing on the 6th of
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276 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Aug.
Februarj, 1764, alludes to Almack's as * the Macaroni Club (which
is composed of all the travelled young men who wear long curls and
spying glasses).' So popular did Almack's become that it threatened
to drain White's of its members. Walpole writes to Greorge Montagu
on the 16th of December, 1764 : * Then for the mornings you have
levees and drawing rooms without end. Not to mention the Macaroni
club, which has quite absorbed Arthur's ; for you know old fools
will hobble after young ones.' White's is often spoken of about
this time as * Arthur's ; ' one Arthur having acquired the lease of the
premises in 1730.
It will be seen, therefore, that the original Macaronis — ^whose
name was due to their actual or supposed introduction of the dish
into England ^ — differed Mo ocbIo from those depicted in the Universal
Magazine. They were drawn from an altogether different class,
and had different aims and ideals. Indeed, to take a single brilliant
instance, their leading spirit was no ^ soft-fac'd, soft-hearted thing,'
no physical or mental weakling, no effeminate lounger or coward,
but Charles James Fox.^
But, hark 1 the voice of battle ahouts from &r,
The Jews and Macaronis are at war ;
The Jews prevail, and thundering from the stocks,
They seize, they hind, they circumcise Charles Fox.
MasorCa Heroic Epistle,
The Jews had undoubtedly a grievance against him, for his liabili-
ties to them were enormous, and his indifference to obligations of
this kind was one of the worst features of his character. His outer
room was so haunted by creditors of this nationality that he used to
call it ^ the Jerusalem Chamber.' He would borrow at last from the
club waiters and the chairmen in St. James's Street, and his personal
friends were severely victimised in the same manner. It is impossible
here to do more than touch on the social career of this remarkable
man. Bom in 1749, he was introduced to the gaming table at the
age of fourteen, and while still at Eton. This occurred — ^incredible
as it sounds — ^under the direct encouragement of his father, Lord
Holland, who took him in May 1763 to the tables of Spa and other
places on the Continent. After four months, however, at his own
1 This is the explanation asaally given, bat I am inclined to think that the nick-
name may have been imported from Italy. Half a century earlier, Addison, in the
Spectator (24th April, 1711) speaks of ' those contemporaneons wits whom every nation
calls by the name of that dish of meat which it loves best. In Holland they are
termed " Pickled Herrings " ; in France, ** Jean Pottages " ; in Italy, '* Maccaronies.*' '
* The following is a list of the original twenty-seven members of Almack's : the
Dnke of Boxburghe, the Earl of Strathmore, Lord Montagu, Mr. Bobinson, Mr. (J.)
Crewe, Mr. Boothby, Mr. Stewart Shawe, Mr. Graoford, Mr. Penton, the Marquis of
Tavistock, Mr. Milles, Mr. Smith, Lord Torrington, the Duke of Portland, Mr. Mytton,
Sir O. Macartney, Mr. James, Mr. Fox (not Charles), Mr. Codrington, Mr. Southwell,
Mr. Wynne, Mr. Lockhart, the Duke of Gordon, Lord William Gordon, Mr. Pennant,
Mr. Crowle, Mr. Bonverie.
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1905 THE MACABONIS 277
desire, he went back to Eton, and shortly afterwards received a
practical reminder of his return in statum pupiUarem in the shape of
a sound flogging from Dr. Barnard. In 1766 he was elected at
Almack's. In 1767 he again visited the Continent, and incurred
debts, it was said, to the amount of 16,0002. in Naples alone. He
was returned for Midhurst in 1768, before he was twenty years old,
and rapidly rose to political prominence. Ti^th his politics we are
not here concerned, but he was equally conspicuous in social life.
He became one of the leaders of the fashionable world, ^ the meteor
of these days,' as Walpole calls him : ^ the hero in Parliament, at the
gaming table, and at Newmarket.' In later years he seems to have
headed a crusade against dress. Wraxall treats the subject with
a solenmity that is almost pathetic. Speaking of the period between
1777 and 1792, he says : ' Mr. Fox and his friends, who might be said
to dictate to the Town, afEecting a style of neglect about their persons,
and manifesting a contempt of all the usages hitherto established,
first threw a sort of discredit on dress. From the House of Conmions
and the clubs in St. James's Street, the Contagion spread through
the private Assemblies of London.'
This affectation of simplicity in dress, which was partly intended
by Fox to be an advertisement of his Republican sympathies, he
seems to have pushed to the length of personal uncleanliness. We
hear of informal gatherings at his rooms, when he rose (late enough)
in the morning, at which he would address his followers, with * his
bristly black person, rarely purified by any ablutions, wrapped in
a foul linen night gown.' Selwyn, too, writing in May 1781, says,
evidently as a matter for surprise : ' I saw Charles to-day in a new
hat, frock, waistcoat, shirt, and stockings ; he was as clean and smug
as a gentleman.' But in his Macaroni days he shared with Lord
Oarlisle (Frederick, fifth Earl) the reputation of being the best dressed
man in London.
He's exceedingly curions in ooats and in frocks,
So the tailor 's a pigeon to this Mr. Fox.
He seems indeed to have been responsible for one of the most
stiiking peculiarities of the Macaroni costume. The Mcusaroni and
Theatrical Magazine for January 1773 contains a sort of Appreciation
of him, under the title of ' The Senatorial Macaroni.' In this we are
told that * To him the Macaroni world are indebted for many improve-
ments in the article of dress, particularly to the renovation of that
fashion laid aside since the beginning of the present century — ^red-
heeled shoes : C s, appearing in these on a Birth-night about three
years ago, brought them into fashion.'
As a scholar, an orator, and a linguist, he stood in the front rank ;
and to his * amazing abilities,' as Walpole calls them, he added an
exceptional power of concentration, having a propensity to labour
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278 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Aug.
at exoellence even in his amasements.' CarUsle says of him (the
12th of July, 1772) : ^ I believe there never was a person yet created
who had the faculty of reasoning like him. His judgments are never
wrong ; his dedsion is formed quicker than any man's I ever con-
versed with ; and he never seems to mistake but in his own affairs.'
He adds later : * I sometimes am determined never to think about
Charles's affairs, or his conduct about them ; for they are like religion,
the more one thinks the more one is pmszled.'
He was, indeed, a puzzle to all his friends. George Selwyn writes
of him, *Son caract^re, son g^e, et sa conduite sont egalement
extraordinaires et m'est incompr^hensibles.' Having regard to
his unpardonable neglect of his pecuniary obligations, it may seem
sufficiently incomprehensible that in 1781, when this was written,
he should have had any friends left to puzzle. Most of them had
paid toll to his necessities, and Carlisle was for some time seriously
hampered by them. Lord Holland, who died on the 1st of July, 1774,
left 164,0001. for the payment of his debts, but even tiiis huge sum
proved only a temporary assistance. His bad luck, made conspicuous
by the magnitude of his losses, was proverbial.
At Almaok's, of pigeons I*m told there are flocks,
But it*8 thought the completest is one Mr. Fox,
If he touches a card, if he rattles a box,
Away fly the guineas of this Mr. Fox.
This persistently adverse fortune seems to have given rise to
a suspicion of foul play ; and in 1823 Lord Egremont told Lord J(^
Russell that he was convinced that there had been a confederacy
amongst the gamblers of Fox's youth, whereby he had been actually
duped and cheated. But however this may be. Fox's own reputa-
tion undoubtedly suffered from his disregard of his creditors. Walpole
writes on the 13th of July, 1773, to Sir Horace Mann : ^ The Macaronis
are at their ne plus vUra ; Charles Fox is already so like Julius CsBsar
that he owes an hundred thousand pounds. Lord Carlisle pays
fifteen hundred and Mr. Crewe twelve hundred a year for him —
literally for him, being bound for him, while he, as Uke Brutus as
CsBsar, is indifferent about such paltry matters.' And again, in a
letter to Lord Nuneham of the 6th of December, 1773, ' Lord Holland
has given Charles Fox a draught of an hundred thousand pounds,
and it pays all his debts but a trifle of thirty thousand pounds, and
those of Lord Carlisle, Crewe, and Foley, who, being only friends,
not Jews, may wait.'
Selwyn grows very indignant at Fox's treatment of Carlisle, and
even Carlisle's forbearance breaks down when he finds that his claims
are iabout to be ignored in the settlement of Fox's liabilities. But,
for all this. Fox was a universal favourite in society. The intem-
perance and invective which he imported into poUtics, to the disgust
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even of Iiis own followers, never entered into his private life, where
the charm of his manner was irresistible. Being a great-great-grandson
of Charles IL, it is possible that his sunny disposition may have
oome to him from his royal ancestor, as well as the damnosa herediias
of his recklessness and profligacy. Madame du DefEand observed of
him : * II n'a pas mi mauvais coenr, mais il n'a nul espdce de principes,
et il regarde avec piti^ tons ceux qui en ont. . . . Je lui aurai paru
une plate moraliste' (fancy Madame du DefEand crowned with
this reproach), *et lui il m'a paru im sublime extravagant.' The
description, if somewhat severe, was substantially true. Women,
play, and politics were, as his friend Boothby declared, the three
passions of his life, and with regard to them all he was ' un sublime
extravagant.' But, as his critic admitted, he had no bad heart.
He * rated friendship very highly among his goods of life,' and, in
his perverse way, was devoted to his friends. Serenely indifferent
to his own mishaps, he was easily affected by those of others, and
he could hardly listen unmoved to any tale of woe — except from
a creditor. His iron constitution carried him untouched through
trials of endurance under which ordinary men would have broken
down. Gibbon, writing to Lord Sheffield (8th February, 1772) in
reference to the debate on a Bill for relieving clergymen from the
necessity of subscribing to the Thirty-nine Articles, observes : * By
the by C. F. [CJharles Fox] prepared himself for that holy war by
passing twenty-two hours in the pious exercise of Hazard ; his devo-
tions cost him only about five hundred pounds an hour — in all eleven
thousand pounds.'
But his dissipations did not quench some wholesome outdoor
tastes, though his bulk must have interfered a good deal with his
pursuit of them. He was a cricketer, though he describes himself
as an indifferent player, and he used to hunt, in spite of the difficulty
of getting properly mounted.
He delights much in hunting, though fat as an ox ;
I pity the horses of this Mr. Fox.
They are probably most of them lame in the hooks,
Buoh a heavy -made fellow is this Mr. Fox.
The last years of his turbulent life were probably his happiest.
In 1795 he married a beautiful Mrs. Armstead, who had been for
many years his mistress, and lived with her in perfect happiness till
his death in 1806. On his fiftieth birthday (24th January, 1799)
he presented her with the following verses :
Of years I have now half a century past,
And none of the fifty so blest as the last.
How it hi^ypens my troubles thus daily should cease,
And my happiness thus with my years should increase,
This defiance of Natnre's more general laws
Tou alone can explain who alone are the cause.
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280 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Aug.
Almost to the last his constitution retained its powers. Creevey
writes on the 11th of May, 1803 :
I supped last night with Fox at Mrs. Bouverie's . . . There were there Grey,
Whitbread, Lord Landerdale, Fitzpatriok, Lord Bobert Spenoer, Lord John
Townshend, and yonr hnmble servant. . . . Ton wonld be perfectly astonished
at the vigour of body, the energy of mind, the innocent playfulness and happi-
ness of Fox. The contrast between him and his old associates is the most
marvellous thing I ever saw, they having all the air of shattered debauchees, of
passing gaming, drinking, sleepless nights, whereas the old leader of the gang
might reaUy pass for the pattern and the effect of domestic good order.
I have dwelt at some length on Fox's characteristiGS in order
to point the contrast between the earlier and later Macaronis. None
of the former present so striking a figure as Pox, but they were mostly
fashioned on the same lines. Like him, they were gamblers almost
to a man. In this respect, however, they only conformed to a fashion,
which though they helped to lead, had already been set them by
an earlier generation, and was rapidly penetrating every rank of
society. Bets were made, as the records of White's Club show, on
every conceivable subject. Walpole writes to Mann (11th March,
1770) : * I protest they are such an impious set of people [at White's]
that I believe if the last trumpet was to sound they would bet Puppet-
show against Judgment.'
In the seventies a special costume for play was adopted, which is
described by Walpole in his Last Journals on the 6th of February, 1772 :
As the gaming and extravagance of the yonng men of quality was arrived
now at a pitch never heard of, it is worth while to give some account of it They
had a cluh at one Almack's, in Pall Mall, where they played only for ronleans
of ^50 each rouleau ; and generally there was £10,000 in specie on the table.
Lord Holland had paid £20,000 for his two sons. Nor were the manners of the
gamesters, or even their dresses for play, undeserving notice.
They began by pulling off their embroidered dothes and put on frieze great
coats, or turned their coats inside outwards for luck. They put on pieces of
leather (such as worn by footmen when they dean the knives) to save their lace
ruffles ; and to guard their eyes from the light, and to prevent tumbling their
hair, wore high-crowned straw hats with broad brims, and adorned with flowers
and ribbons ; masks to conceal their emotions when they played at Quinze.
Each gamester had a small neat stand by him with a large rim, to hold his tea,
or a wooden bowl with an edge of ormolu to hold their rouleaus.
The oostume seems quaint enough, but it had its purposes.
Many of them are obvious ; and if the flowers and ribbons seem
rather out of harmony with their environment, the high straw hat
would be a necessity for the Macaroni coiffure of the day. We have
already heard of the *long curls' of the early Macaronis, but the
huge hair structures of the seventies were not in vogue in 1764.
Five pounds of hair they wear behind,
The ladies to delight, 0 ;
Their senses give unto the wind.
To make themselves a fright, O.
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This evidently refers to some period not later than 1772, when
the Macaroni wore his hair, natural and otherwise, in an immense
knot behind. But about 1772 the fashion was changed to a pinnacle
of hair on the top of the head ; and this no doubt necessitated the
high straw hat. So far as can be judged from the caricatures and
press of the period the dress of the later Macaronis embodied a principle
of extravagant contrasts; an enormous coiffure surmounted by a
diminutive cocked hat, tightly cut clothes with a large tasselled
walking stick, small shoes, and a big bouquet. The bouquet was
a feature of the Macaroni outfit almost from the beginning. Carlisle
alludes to it about 1768. Its vast size however seems to have been
a later growth. Apropos of this, Walpole writes on the 3rd of Sep-
tember, 1773 : ^ Lord Nuneham's garden is the quintessence of nosegays,
I wonder some Macaroni does not offer ten thousand pounds for it.'
And absurdities of this kind were quite in keeping with the extrava-
gances in all directions which marked the later days, at any rate,
of the Macaronis. Walpole has an amusing hit at these. Speaking
of a violent thunderstorm which occurred suddenly in March 1772,
he says : * I cannot but think that it was raised in a hot house, by
order of the Macaronis, who vnU have everything before the season.'
But so far as the early Macaronis are concerned, their dress, though
perhaps over-elaborate, does not seem to have been fantastic or
grotesque. The Oentleman^s Magazine of March 1770 waxes en-
thusiastio over a fancy dress worn by Carlisle at the famous Mrs.
Comelys's, adding that it ^ shows that the universal opinion of
the wearer's superior taste of dress of any kind has its foundations
in truth.'
Moreover there was a good deal in the original Macaronis to redeem
their follies. The travel on which they insisted was a humanising
influence, and was unquestionably a reality. In those days of heavy
postage rates travellers were much utilised as informal postmen ;
and the Macaronis were in great request for this purpose. When
George Selwyn was on one of his frequent visits to Paris, Gilly Williams
writes (12th December, 1764) to complain of his silence : ' I find,
my dear Gteorge, if neither Macaronis nor French are on the road
our correspondence stops, so unwilling are you to put me to sixpence
charge, when I assure you I would expend a much larger sum to
hear you was well.' A few years later Carlisle, writing from Paris
to George Selwyn (7th December, 1768) says : * Mrs. Pitt and Miss
Floyd left us this morning. I have charged them to puff the spring
exportation of Macaronis ; we shall come in with the nosegays.'
It is possible, however, that the Macaroni wanderings were not
always very extensive, and that their travel was rather a social than
a scientific pursuit. Carlisle, Fox, Crauford, and some others went
further afield ; but the goal of a good many of them seems to have
been Paris. Under the conditions of the day this was natural enough.
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Afl far back as the times of Elizabeth and James the Fiist there was
a good deal of sodal intercourse between the upper cIa8se8>of England
and France ; and though this had been interrupted^ wholly or partially^
till well into the eighteenth century, it was completely re-established
in the reign of George the Third. The cordiality of this eniente was
rather remarkable. ^ George Selwyn is returned from Paris/ writes
Walpole on the 30th of November, 1772. * He says our passion for
everything French is nothing to theirs for everything English.' Selwyn
himself was a persona guUissima in the French capital, being intimate
with all the distinguished people there, and a great &vourite with
Louis the Fifte^ith.' In 1763 ^the rage of going to Paris' b^an
to attract tiie attention of the newspapers, who nicknamed it ^ the
French disease.' Walpole was rather inclined to laugh at it. He
used to tell the French they had adopted the two dullest things that
England possessed — ^Whist and Richardson's novels. In tiie end,
however, he followed the fashion himself, and though it took him
a full year — September 1764 to September 1766— to tear himself
from his beloved Strawberry for a visit to Paris, he enjoyed himself
hugely when he got there. Indeed at that time Pansian society
was Ux more brilliant tiian tiiat of London, by reason of the laiger
opportunities which it offered to clever women. London, it is true,
made some efforts in this direction, as represented by the gahns
of Mrs. Montagu, Mrs. Vesey, Mrs. Thrale, and others ; but none
of these would bear compariscm with the brilliant literary assemblies
of Paris. To men like Walpole and Selwyn these were naturally
attaractive ; and though the Macaronis belonged to a younger genera-
tion,' many of them shared the cultivated and artistic tastes of their
elder associates. As the Macaronis degenerated, this pleasant inter-
course died away. The majority of those who poured into Paris
in the later days had no clsdm to be admitted into French society,
and threw away any chance of winning their way into it by their
open disregard of its conventions. They simply became the laughing-
stocks of the petiis mattres^ and the victims of the Uvely ladies of the
Parisian stage, who used to call the summer months la r6coUe de$
Jach-Roa^t'Beefs.
The last years of the 'sixties saw the best of the liacaronis. They
were then a comparatively small and select society, whose members
were, on the whole, men of more than average attainments. Oarlisle
was a poet and a playwright ; and though his rank no doubt con-
tributed to his advancement, he could not have filled a succession of
important poUtical posts without deoent talents to support his position.
Socially he was a charming figure, handscHne, witty, and polished,
intelligent and self-possessed. like many of his oonten^x>rarie8y
from George the Third downwards, he was in love at one time with
the beautiful Lady Sarah Lennox ; but after his marriage in March
' Horace Wftlpole was bom in 1717 and Oooige Selwjn in 1719.
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1770 with Lady Caroline Leveson-Gower, he became a devoted hus-
band and father. The only olouda on hia early married life were the
pressure of his loflsee at play, and his straggles — finally successful —
to break away from tiie attractions of the gaming-table.
He had also a wholesome taste for sport and exercise, and rallies
Selwyn on the di£Eerence between their habits. Writing from Spa
he says, * I lue at six ; am on horseback till break&st ; play at cricket
till dinner ; and dance in the evening till I can scarce crawl to bed
at eleven. There is a life for you. You get up at nine ; play with
Baton [a dc^] till twelve in your night-gown ; then creep down to
White's to abuse Fanshaw.'
We also hear of him shooting and hunting, and playing tennis
till his hand trembles. This was after a game with Colonel Henry
St John, called ' the Baptist ' by his intimates. St. John combined
with the tastes of a Macaroni a prodigious appetite for reading, as is
shown by the formidable list of books which he commissions from
Selwyn on the 21st of November, 1766. He was Grocmi of the Bed-
chamber to George the Third, and sat as member for Wootton Basset.
He became a member of Almack's in 1764. His brother John, who
was elected at Almack's in 1769, has been described as a typical
KacaronL He was rather a successful playwright, and a poet.
Selwyn says of him that he * uses Helicon as habitually as others do
a cold bath.' like many of the original Macaronis he was a busy
pohtician, and sat for some yeans as member for Eye.
But the strangest tribute to Macaronidom was offered by his
elder brother Frederick, second Viscount Bolingbroke, familiariy
known as 'Bully,' who joined Almack's in 1764. He writes this
carious letter to Selwyn in Paris :
I will tell you of one [a reformation] that has happened in private life. Lord
Bdingbroke is more like a gentleman than he has latterly been, and mixes more
in the polifte world . . • and as Lord B. muoh admires the taste and elegance
of Colonel St. John's Parisian clothes he wishes Mr. Selwyn would order le Duo
to make him a suit of plain velvet. By plain, is meant without gold or silver ;
IS to the colours, pattern, and design of it, he relies upon Mr. Selwyn's taste.
A small pattern seems to be the reigning taste among the Macaronis at
Almack's, and is therefore what Lord B. desires. Le Due, however, must be
dedred to make the clothes bigger than the generality of Macaronis, as Lord B.*s
•houlders have lately grown very broad. As to the smaUness of the sleeves and
the length of the waist, Lord B. desires them to be auM, that he may exceed
my Macaronis now about town, and become the object of their envy.
* Bully,' however, seems to have been rather a weak vessel gene-
rally, and for some time his domestic troubles weighed upon his mind.
In 1767 he had married the beautiful and talented Lady Diana Spencer.
She was altogether his intellectual superior, and the marriage was not
a happy one. According to BosweU he ill-treated her, but it is certain
that she was un&ithful to him, and he obtained a divorce from her
<m the 10th of March, 1768. Two days later she married Topham
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284 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Aug.
Beauclerk, a grandson of the first Duke of St. Albans, and one of the
most brilliant of the early Macaronis. He became a member of Almack's
in 1764. He was a universal favourite, and completely won his
way even to the rugged heart of the great Johnson, to whom he was
introduced by Bennet Langton. After his first surprise that Langton
should associate with such a loose character, the Doctor yielded to
the fascination of a man gifted ' with so ardent a care of Uterature,
so acute an understanding, and sucH elegance of manners.' Well
might Garrick exclaim, ^ What a coaUtion ! I shall have my old
friend to bail out of the Round House.* But, notwithstanding a
certain amount of friction, this strange friendship remained unbroken
till Beauclerk's death in March 1780.
Among other prominent members of the original Macaroni group
may be mentioned Richard Fitzpatrick (elected at Almack's in 1766),
the bosom friend of Fox, and his associate in all his excesses. In
1781 the two friends tried to restore their fallen fortunes by starting
a Pharo bank at Brooks's. This was conducted in such a manner as
to become a pubUc scandal ; but it was very profitable to the bankers.
Fitzpatrick retired from it with 1(X),000{., and, more prudent than
Fox, never played again. He sat for Tavistock in 1780, and was
subsequently a successful Secretary of War. He was a handsome
and gallant soldier, and in his lighter hours something of a poet. So
fine were his manners that the Duke of Queensberry left him an annuity,
as a substantial tribute to their charm ; and he belonged to the brilliant
circle which gathered round Greorge the Fourth in his earlier years.
James Hare and Anthony Morris Storer, both elected at Almack's in
1771, were Eton friends of Fox and Carlisle. Hare's nickname, * the
Hare with many friends,' speaks by itself of his popularity in society.
As a boy he was considered more brilliant than Fox, even by Fox
himself, and Wraxall remarks of him in later Ufe, that ' Socially, for
ingenuity, classical discrimination and sound judgment. Hare was
almost unrivalled.' Storer and Carlisle were known at Eton as
Orestes and Pylades, and Storer accompanied Carlisle on his mission
to America in 1778. He was a very Crichton in the versatiUty of
his accomplishments. In conversation and Uterary knowledge, as a
musician, a gymnast, a skater, and a dancer, he was in the front rank ;
and the hbrary which he bequeathed to his old school is a soUd proof
of his cultivated tastes. He, too, was a gambler, and we hear through
Selwyn of his ^ losing, like a simple boy, his money at Charles's and
Richard's [Fitzpatrick] damned Pharo bank.' James Crauford, ^le
petit Crauford' of Madame du Defiand, must have been rather a
trying Uttle creature. From his insatiable curiosity he was called
* the Fish,' and in spite of his cleverness seems to have been rather
tolerated than Uked. He was vain, jealous, and rather exacting.
Selwyn writes of him (19th December, 1775) : ' I think verily he grows
more tiresome every day, and everybody's patience is d bout, except
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1906 THE MACARONIS 286
Smith's and Sir Oeoige's.' Walpole, writing to Lady Ossory on the
11th of June, 1773, says, * I have asked Mr. Cranford to meet you,
but begged he would refuse me, that I might be sure of his coming.'
He was, however, a friend of Voltaire's, and rather a favourite with
Madame da DefEand. The only man expressly described as a Macaroni
by Walpole does not seem to have had a particularly distinguished
career. * Lady Falkener's daughter,' he writes (27th May, 1764), * is
to be married to a young, rich Mr. Crewe, a Macarone, and one of our
Loo.' This was the Crewe who joined with Carlisle in supporting
Fox's pecuniary burdens ; and if not otherwise a celebrity himself,
he shone to some extent in the reflected glories of his wife. For Mrs.
C^we became a fashionable beauty. She and her sister, Mrs.
Bouverie, also a beauty, were painted together as shepherdesses by
Sir Joshua Reynolds. The notorious Duke of Queensberry, whose
memory as 'Old Q.' stiU survives, is often associated with the
Macaronis ; but he was nearly a generation older than Fox and his
contemporaries, and his t}^ was rather that of the later Beaux.
The responsibilities of a member of Parliament in the eighteenth
century were, of course, less onerous than they are at the present
day; but a large number of the original Macaronis seem to have
gone into Parliamentary life. Gilly Williams writes to Gteorge Selwyn
on the eve of an election, ' We are full at White's, but the Macaronis
are aU at their respective boroughs.' To a certain extent also the
Macaronis gave expression to the reviving taste for things artistic,
which had languished sadly under the first two Qeorges. The opera
in those days had a severe struggle for existence in England, and had
usually to be subsidised by private individuals or societies. Walpole
observes in 1769 that * poUtics are the only hot bed for keeping such a
tender plant as Italian music alive in England.' Operatic music,
moreover, was challenged by the rival art of dancing, and in 1771
dandng seems clearly to have been in the ascendent. The Macaronis
foDowed the stream, and supported the prevailing theatrical taste in
art. In 1773 a Mademoiselle Heinel appeared at the Opera House,
as a dancer ' whose grace and execution were so perfect as to eclipse
all other excellence.' She received a salary of 6002. a year from the
management, ' and was complimented with a regaUo of six hundred
more from the Macaroni Club.'
Ye travelled tribe, ye Macaroni train,
Of French friseura and nosegays justly vain ;
Who take a trip to Paris onoe a year
To dress, and look like awkward Frenchmen here ;
Lend me your hands— O fatal news to tell,
Their hands are only lent to the Heinel I
These lines appear in an intended epilogue to She Stoops to Conquer,
which was first produced on the 15th of March, 1773.
The Macaronis, moreover, were something more than arbitri
Vou LVin— No. 842 U
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286 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Aug.
degantiarum, for they appear to Iiave been regarded as a sort of
informal tribunal which might take cognisance of gross offences
against courtesy or good manners. In 1768 Temple Luttrell pub-
lished some outrageous verses on Lady Isabella Stanhope ; in refer-
ence to which Carlisle writes to Selwyn, ' I do not think you wanted
old boars in your house, that such young pigs as Mr. LuttreU should
begin to torment you. What an in&mous copy of verses were in the
papers upon Lady B. Stanhope. Why do not the Macaronis exert
themselves upon such occasions i ' The expression ^ boars ' recalls
another claim sometimes made on behalf of the Macaronis. They are
supposed to have invented the use of the word ' bore,' or * boar/ in
our modem sense. Whether this be so or not, it is evident from the
letters of Gilly Williams, Lord March, Henry St. John, Carlisle, Lord
Grantham, and others, that the word was a new piece of slang about
1766-7, as it is invariably itahcised by the writers.
It will now be seen how widely the original Macaronis were removed
from the ansemic monstrosities who figured in the Press of the 'seventies.
But even in the early days there were Macaronis of the baser sort,
whose lives were wholly devoted to gambling, dissipation and extra-
vagance generally. Lord Foley and his brother may be taken as
specimens of this class. One of them was obliged to cross the Channel
hurriedly to escape his liabilities in England; upon which Selwyn
observed that this was a Passover not much relished by the Jews.
Walpole, writing to Mann about the two Foleys in 1776, says that
they * have borrowed money so extravagantly, that the interest they
have contracted to pay amounts to eighteen thousand pounds a year.
I write the sum at length, lest you should think I have mistaken, and
set down two or three figures too much.'
But in 1776 the degeneracy of the Macaronis had distinctly set in.
The name was no longer confined to a select circle, but was beginning
to be applied generally to a host of imitators in the lower ranks of
society, in whom the follies of the movement came chiefly to the
front. At the end of 1773 we hear that the Macaronis * are all undone,'
for, as Walpole significantly puts it, ^Pactolus is run dry both in
Bengal and at Almack's.'^ There is no more gambling for 20,0001. at
a sitting. Almaok's itself disappears by absorption into Brooks's in
1778. The magnificent extravagances of the Macaronis perish ; and
though their name descends, it is upon a feebler folk, without their
redeeming qualities, who do but imitate or exaggerate their absurdi-
ties. In Jidy 1777 Walpole speaks of ^ Macaroneeses,' showing how
the term had widened since the early Ahnack days. Indeed, after
the middle of the 'seventies, it lost all trace of any class distinction,
* Walpole always attributed the eztrayagance of the Maoaronis to the sadden inflaz
of wealth from India. * Lord Chatham begot the East India Company ; the East India
Company begot Lord Clive ; Lord Clivo begot the Macaronis, and they begot poverty ;
all the race are alive.* (Walpole to Mason, 9th of April, 1772.)
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and Macaronis sprang up in every social stratum. In some verses
called ' The Will of a Macaroni/ which appeared in the Universal Maga-
zine for September 1774, the testator is represented as leaving legacies
to the * Macs' of the Bar, the Army, Medicine, the Church, and
Trade ; and very soon afterwards the name Macaronis began to be
applied indiscriminately to all the fast young men about town, and,
indeed, to the enterprising youth of either sex. In this usage a
* Macaroni' became practically equivalent to a 'rowdy.' Vauxhall
Gardens, particularly on the closing night of the season, was a favourite
arena for the sportiveness of these young people. Thus we hear that
on the 4th of September, 1774 ' upwards of fifteen foolish Bucks,
who had amused themselves by breaking the lamps at Vauxhall, were
put into the cage by the proprietors to answer for the damage done.'
And in The Macaroni and Theatriodl Magazine for September 1773,
p. 529, there is a picture showing ' The Macaroney Beaus and Bells
in uproar, on the last evening of Vauxhall G^dens.' It is only fair
to the shades of the early Macaronis to add that, judging by their
appearance, these ' Beaus and Bells ' were rather an ordinary lot.
But this later usage was obviously a misapplication of the name ;
for the Macaroni, early or late, whatever else he may have been, was
essentially an exquisite ; and the charge of effeminacy and cowardice,
so freely levelled at the later Macaronis, is quite inconsistent with
their bcdng buUies or roysterers.
There is a humble boon, however, for which all of us, high and
low, owe a debt of gratitude to the latter-day Macaronis — our
mnbrellas. When this deserving implement was first introduced into
England by Jonas Hanway, he was mobbed for carrying it in the
streets; and it might easily have succumbed to the unreasonable
antipathy of the populace but for the Macaronis. These intrepid
innovators kept the umbrella aloft till it had weathered the storm,
and became part of the established order of things.
The differences which distinguish the early from the later Macaronis
make it dif&cult to get a comprehensive view of them as a whole.
But putting aside their follies and vices, the Macaronis, early and
late, did adopt — not alwajrs wisely or too well— an attitude towards
some of the tastes and habits of the age which was worthy perhaps
of better champions. Society was just emerging from the low civilisa-
tion of the first two Georges. This had been a period of gross tastes
and grosser morals, in which culture and the arts generally had
received little recognition from the Court or the upper ranks of society.
With George the Third came the beginning of a new state of things.
His private morals were respectable, and in early life he showed,
according to Walpole, ' a great propensity in the arts.' Yet it was
not till quite the latter part of his reign that painters (Sir Joshua
Reynolds alone excepted), sculptors, or architects, were received into
the best society. Literature had not fared much better. Walpole
u 2
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had attompted, and with some Baooess, to make literary pursuits
fashionable, but the ordinary man of letters did not count for much.'
When long Sir Thomas Robinson took possession of Rokeby he found
a portrait of Richardson among the pictures, and was so shocked at
the idea of a mere Mr. Richardson hanging in company with persons
of quaUty, that he had a star and blue ribbon added to the picture,
and turned it into a portrait of Sir Robert Walpole. When the
original Macaronis appeared, though they inaugurated an advance,
they did not in any way pose as reformers. They were perfectly
content with the life of society as they found it, and made no effort
to alter it. But their instincts did tend towards the quickeniog and
broademng of it by the influences of travel, literature, and art ; and
they showed by living examples that these influences need not paralyse
the activity of the man of the world or the politician, or even the
feverish energy of the man of fashion. And as the original Macaronis
thus held open the door for culture, so their successors did something
to promote a greater regard for the decencies of life. When the
worst has been said of their fooleries and affectations, the fact still
remains that they did represent a tendency to refinement, in an age
which was sorely in need of it. The bitterness of the abuse to which
they were subjected betrays unmistakeable traces of the irritation
which is peculiar to the sinner rebuked. The fine scorn poured by
the Universal Magazine on the Macaroni tea-drinker smacks strongly
of a critic who gloried and drank deep ; and it is instructive to notice
that in the play of The Macaroni, already referred to, the chief
reproaches against the hero are the mildness of his imprecations and
his respect for a woman's honour.
In one sense the Macaronis merely represented an outburst of
dandyism, though it was a dandjdsm with certain distinctive features
of its own. It showed some affinity with the ideas of the Troubadours,
and had just a prophetic tinge of the ' Souls.' Moreover, it possessed
a vitality very uncommon in similar freaks of fashion. These, as a
rule, are mere bubbles on the stream, passing efflorescences on the
surface of society which have no part in its organic growth. But the
marked impression which the Macaronis produced shows that they
were, for good or evil, a real social force. Jowett used to say that
every man ought to be * very ' — something. This is a test from which
the Macaronis would not have shrunk ; and herein is probably to be
found an explanation of their influence. They were very extravagant,
very brilliant, or very fantastic, and not infrequently all three ; but
in one form or another the requisite superlative was always present.
When they appeared the existing order of things was beginning to
* This low esteem lasted for some time. The following is an extract from the News
and Sunday Herald of December 10, 1885 : * Are any literary men members of
White's ? None except Croker. They are considered as vermin in the fashionable
dabs.*
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1905 THE MACABONIS 289
pass away ; and they may be compared with the momentary blaze
which sbootB up as a waning fire falls in, or the delusive rally in a
dying man which sometimes precedes the end. As one of the lesser
beacons of social history, they help to mark the point where the
tastes and traditions of the Georgian era begin to break up, making
way for the intellectual and spiritual awakening of the age which is
fitly consecrated to the name of Victoria.
Norman Pbabson.
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290 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Aug.
THE ORIGIN OF MONEY FROM ORNAMENT
In eveiy department of investigation science has long been busy
with problems of origins. Wherever it has turned its activities it
has always been certain to find some variety of the anthropomorphic
explanation in possession of the field. The rocks with their fossils
as we now find them were thought to have been made in an hour by
a wave of the Creator's hand. Human languages were supposed to
have sprung full fledged into existence at some definite date in the
world's history. Civil government was beUeved to have been, like-
wise at some given date, estabUshed by a convention between king
and people. These fantasies have now, of course, for the most part,
been dissolved, mainly by the half-conscious change in our point
of view that has accompanied advancing knowledge. In regard to
one great social phenomenon, however— money — ^the case is different.
There the conventional explanation is still usually looked upon as
quite good enough. Mankind, we are told, having had experience
during some generations of the inconveniences of the system of barter,
fixed at last on some one substance which they should regard as their
medium of exchange, and, having done so, eventually arranged that
it should be impressed with the stamp of authority. This, in the
fourth century B.C., was Aristotle's explanation of the phenomenon,
as in the eighteenth century after Christ it was Adam Smith's, and as
it still is that of our economists, with few, if any, exceptions. It is to
this day to be found, either expressly set forth or tacitiy taken for
granted, practically in every treatise that deals with the subject.
To the trained ethnologist, one woidd think that merely to put such
a theory into words would be to refute it. Ethnology knows nothing
of institutions that spring into existence all of a sudden, or without
a long previous history of silent and hidden imderground develop-
ment, and rarely or never does it know anything of institutions whose
origin has been in any sense the work of conscious intention. The
ethnologists, however, in this country at any rate, for some reason
that is not altogether obvious, have given Uttle attention to the
origin of money, and even in our books of travel, where the customs
of primitive peoples are dealt with, references to its early develop-
ments are few and far between.
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1906 OBIGIN OF MONEY FROM ORNAMENT 291
Besides ethnology and economios, the origin of money has been the
concern of yet another science — ^numismatics. It is from the point
of view of the nomismatiBty for example, that Professor !^dgeway,
in his Origin of Metallic Currency has approached the question, and
his inquiries have, at any rate, been more fruitful than the conjectural
history of the economists. A still more impcHrtant book of the same
class as Professor Bidgeway's is Les originea de la Jfotmoie, by M.
Babelon, the leading numismatist of France and of the world. Both
these books are storehouses of interesting and suggestive facts in
reference to the almost infinitely varied objects and substances that
have, at one period or another, and in one country or another, assumed
functions more or less analogous to those of our circulating medium.
In Germany, again, it is the ethnologists rather than the economists
or numismatists who have dealt with the subject in an enlightening
manner. A section in Richard Andree's PairdUden^ a book which
deals with a great variety of ethnological questions, helped to lay the
foundation for future advance by attempting a formal classification
of the various kinds into which incipient money has to be divided.
His classification is based mainly on the nature of the material used,
the division \mng into such groups as stone money, shell money, salt
money, &c. No answer was thought of or attempted to the one
question which goes to the heart of the discussion — (he question. How
did it come about that while almost everything that can be mentioned,
from cattie and slaves to kitchen pots and kettles, and from salt and
tea to shells and feathers, has at one time or another been used in
the world more or less in the character of money, it is the precious
metals that have finally ousted everything else from that position,
and that hold it to this day ?
The absence of any answer or attempted answer to this question
abo characterises a more recent and greatiy more important Qerman
ccmtribution to the study of the subject, the Onindfias einer EnMe-
hwngsgeichichie des Creldes, of the late Dr. Heinrich Schurtz, of Bremen.
He also frames a classification of early moneys ; but with him it must
be sud that the grouping is made on more philosophical principles.
We find with him such classes as ornament money, utilities money,
and clothes money, the first class being subdivided into the two
groups of shell money and metallic money. He also then divides the
whole series into the two great classes of money for use within the
tribe and money for intertribal use,* and thinks that our modem
money has been formed by the amalgamation of these two, and that
it owes some of its saUent features to each, very much, he thinks, as
modem marriage owes its salient characteristics in part to early
exogamous and in part to early endogamous relations. The attempt
to follow out this somewhat fanciful parallel between the develop-
ment of marriage and the development of money leads the writer, as
* * Binnengeld ' and * Ausgengold.'
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292 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Aug.
it seems to me, ojEE his track. His work for all that contains a great
deal that is valuable and suggestive, and makes a real advance in the
discussion of the subject. As a thorough ethnologist, Dr. Schurtz is
penetrated with the conception of money as having arrived at its
present condition by a process of gradual growth of some sort, at any
rate, and he dismisses as an absurdity the notion of its establishment
by a convention. The most valuable portions of his book are, to my
mind, the chapters on the development of ' Binnengeld,' the money
for use within the tribe. Such a view as the following is very signifi-
cant. Dr. Schurtz thinks that at a period when everything in the
nature of food and shelter was the common property of the whole
tribe, and when, consequentiy, exchange was practically unknown,
payments that subsequentiy developed into regulated taxes began to
be made in the shape of gifts to the chiefs to propitiate their good-
will, and payments that subsequently developed into regulated fines
also began to be made in the shape of indemnities to the injured and
to the relations of the slain. If this view holds good, then, of course,
so far must it have been from being the case that money was an
expedient invented to remedy the inconveniences of the barter system,
that it seems rather to have been the case that incipient money pre-
ceded barter in the world, and that we see in its development the
rise of the agency that proved itseU in the end of all others the most
potent in bringing about the dissolution of the older communism, and
in substituting for it the system of private property and of exchange.
When one has a problem before his mind, sometimes it happens
that one stumbles on a fact or a suggestion that contributes to its
solution in the most unexpected quarter. In 1898 I was busy with
the study of the Indian currency question, and went faithfully through
the considerable mass of evidence that was given before Sir Henry
Fowler's Committee. In answer to the 10857th question I came
across the following passage, which, it struck me at once, had an
interesting and important bearing on the origin of money. The
witness was Mr. Bomesh Dutt, C.I.E., a native gentleman who has,
it may be said, made his mark in Uterature.' In reference to the vast
amounts of money spent annually by the natives on silver ornaments,
he was asked by one of the members of the Committee ^ : ' Would not
the country have been benefited if that money had been employed
instead of being allowed to he idle ? ' ' I do not think it Ues idle,'
replied Mr. Dutt, ' because it serves the purpose of ornament and
savings bank.' ' As regards savings banks,' went on his interlocutor,
*is it not very much more economical and better to put your savings
in some interest-bearing security than to tie it up in a bag ? ' The
reply was very much to the point. ^ If an Indian cultivator,' said
* In his book The Lake of Paints^ an interesting sketch of Indian life, at pages 3
and 28 Mr. Dntt introduces reflections on the use of ornaments as a reserve for con-
tingencies similar to those quoted in the text. ' Mr. CampbelL
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1906 ORIGIN OF MONET FROM ORNAMENT 298
Mr.Dutty ' had 200 or 300 rupees in the bank^it would disappear in the
course of a year or so, bat if it is in the shape of his women's ornaments,
he will keep them until he is compelled by famine to part with them.'
The silyer 'serves the purpose of ornament and sayings bank.'
Hark the double function. Perhaps we have caught the transition
of ornament into money in the very act of taking place. To the
shrewd Scotch banker who put his questions to Mr. Dutt, the putting
by of so much annually in the shape of savings seemed so completely
a matter of course that it stood in need of no explanation. The
question how it was that saving first became possible in the world is,
nevertheless, a very real problem. Share and share alike was the
unvarying rule among primitive mankind. The sentiment that
enforood that rule, indeed, has survived with considerable vigour into
the modem civilised period. There are, as we know, large classes
among ourselves for whom social opinion makes saving practically
impossible. Among races which belong to an earUer stage of develop-
ment the same sort of social opinion is infinitely more powerful. If
the Indian peasant had his 200 or 300 rupees in hand or under his
immediate control, the exigencies of some matrimonial or funereal
function might in a day run away with the half of it. If, on the
c(mtrary, those rupees are melted down and made to take the shape
of ornaments for his women, ornaments which, among the Indian
peasantry, are almost the sole index of social position, and which
enable the whole family to hold up their heads among their neigh-
bours, nothing but very urgent necessity will make him part with
them. Thus the desire for ornament first makes the accumulation of
a reserve for use in utmost need possible. This is the first stage.
Presently y no doubt, some degree of consciousness of the double purpose
of his ornaments begins to enter into the thoughts of the peasant.
Experience tells him that the possession of a store of bracelets and
bangles has warded ojEE starvation from himseU and his family in the
past, and the possibihty of the recurrence of evil days forms a con-
scious reason in his mind for continually adding to his possessions in
th^n. Thus after a fashion a circulation of ornaments seems to have
preceded in the world the circulation of money. This fact, as it
happens, has struck one of the most competent of our numismatists,
Mr. Keary, in connection with the state of things prevaiUng in a very
different age and country from present-day India. *In Beda,' he
says, in his introduction to the catalogue of English coins in the
British Museum,^ * there are passages which seem to point to the
dreulation of ornaments as a sort of currency. For instance, when
King Baedwald, king of the East Angles, was tempted by the threats
and promises of ^thelfrid. King of Northumbria, to betray the
fugitive Eadwine, his wife dissuaded him from the act of treachery,
urging that ** it would not become so great a king to sell for gold his
^ Page X, footnote.
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294 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Aug.
excellent friend in his hour of need and for the love of money * to lose
his oharacter for good faith, which was more precious than all orna-
ments." ' ^ In the mind of Beda, amamefUa and peowiia were evidently
very nearly one and the same thing. The armlets of the Anglo-
Saxon nobles were made on a definite scale of weight and standard of
purity, and apparently were also so made as to be easily divisible into
portions of a definite weight. The scUUngaSy from which our word
shilling is derived, were originally pieces cut or broken ojEE from these
armlets.^ A * ring-breaker,' both in the Anglo-Saxon and Norse
languages, came to be used in the sense of a distributor of treasures,
and was a title specially accorded to princes whose open-handedness
the minstrel desired to celebrate.
It is only, indeed, in quite modem times that the divorce between
the double purpose of the precious metals as ornament and as money
has become as complete as we now find it. As recently as two or three
hundred years ago plate was commonly converted into coin and coin.
into pl^te, much as in modem India rupees were commonly converted
into ornaments and ornaments into rupees. The cost of manufacture
was then looked on as a trifle that hardly had need to be concddered.
Jean Bodin refers to a saying current in his day that ^ in plate one
loses nothing but the fashion.' ^ Lord Burleigh's wiU leaves his plate
to be distributed by weight among the legatees as if it were so much
bullion. This state of things, moreover, left its impress on the thought
of the statesmen and economists of the period. There was then an
intimate relation in the pubUc mind between plate and money, which
it is hard for us now to realise. Sir Dudley North, for instance, in
assailing the poUcy of a law which forbade the use of plate in taverns^
argues that ' if everyone had plate in his house, the nation would be
possessed of a solid fund in these metals, which all the world desires.' ^
A proclamation of Charles the Second describes the English nation
as having been ' in former times renowned for its plenteous stock of
money and the magnificence of its plate,' ^^ as if the two were about
one and the same thing. A goldsmith's is a very dijEEerent trade from
a banker's nowadays. Then, however, the goldsmiths inevitably
became the bankers of the community, and their receipts for the
treasure handed over to them became the precursors of our modem
bank-notes.
Go back a couple of thousand years in the world's history, and a
similar state of things presents itself. At the outbreak of the Felo-
ponnesian war, Pericles is found reckoning among the financial resources
of Athens the vases in the temples and the gold that could be stripped
* Pecunia, * Omtunenta,
' Eeary, Introduction to English Coinst p. viil.
" Discours sur le rehauasement tcmt d'or que d^argent, t. iii.
* Discourses upon Trade (reprint 1822), Postscript, p. 3.
^* Bading, Annals of Coinage^ vol. ii. p. 822.
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1905 ORIGIN OF MONEY FBOM ORNAMENT 295
from the chryselephantine statue of Pallas.^^ It may be remembered,
too, how the people of Mgesim deceived the Athenian ambassadors
in r^ard to the extent of their resources by inviting them to a series
of bwquets at various houses, where a great display of gold and silver
vessels was made, the vessels being really the same, sent on from house
to house. It reminds one of the manner in which, about half a century
ago, some of the American banks deceived the Federal Qovemment
in regard to the amount of their reserves by sending these reserves
on their travdb just ahead of the inspectors.
It is worthy of note, too, that the precious metals are not the only
form of ornament that has played a great part as money in the world.
We find a few traces still of shdl money, for the most part in Africa,
but few of us are aware how vast at one time was the region and
how extended was the period of its dominance. The remarkable fact
confronts us that in Chinese the very words for wealth and shells
are the same. There was evidentiy a time when, for a great section
of mankind, the thought of the cowry shell stood for all that the thought
of gold stands for with us to-day.
Is it possible, then, it may be asked, to give any reasons that
account for the fact of the attainment of the monetary position by
ornaments rather than by objects of utiUty ? One answer to that
question has already been suggested. We have found that in certcun
stages of development the use of ornaments is that which alone renders
tiie accumulation of private wealth in any form possible. At a
subsequent stage, again, the intervention of the reUgious impulse is
foond to bring with it a fresh stimulus to the quasi-monetary use of
ornament. Men's thoughts came to be turned not only to the adorn-
ment of their own persons, but also to the adornment of their divinities.
Thus, Delphi accumulated its hoard of treasure, and was able occasion-
ally to furnish State loans to communities that stood in favour with
its priesthood. ^ The gods,' as Curtius says, ' were the first capitalists
of Greece.' ^* They were Ukewise the capitalists of early Babylon.
There, indeed, as we can gather from the evidence of the tablets, the
accomulated wealth in the temples played a very important part in the
commercial life of the community. A man starting in business would
naturally borrow the capital that he required from the treasury of the
Son Grod, as here he might obtain it from a bank or a lending agency.^^
Adam Smith, in his account of the origin of money, makes the
sigmficant observation that in order to avoid the inconveniences of
the barter system the prudent man would always endeavour to have
by him a stock of some one substance which he had reason to believe
that no one would refuse in exchange for his produce. He does not
explain, however, how it could come about that in the primeval state
" Thucydides, vol. ii. 13.
" See article translated by Dr. Head in NumUmatic Chronicle, N.B., x. p. 91.
" The Babylonians and Assyrians, Life and Customs, p. 128.
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296 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Aug.
of things any man could reckon on being able to find such a substance.
If, indeed, such a substance were witidn his reach, then plainly it
would be money, already in a fairly wdl-developed stage. The very
problem before us is to ascertain how it was that any one substance
originally obtained such a position in the eyes of the community that
no one would refuse it in exchange for Ins produce, no matter when
or in what quantities it was offered. As Walker says, ' Money is a
thing of degree,' ^^ and ' anytiiing may become money if it acquires
a sufficient degree of acceptabihty.' The problem before us is the
genesis of this ^ acceptability.'
We can see, I think, without much difficulty that ornament has
possibilities, at any rate as regards the attainment of * acceptability,'
which things that supply mere bodily needs have not. Take wheat
for example. If a man had as much as he could eat and as much as
he could store, he would take no more in exchange for any of his pos-
sessions. He would hardly take it as a free gift. Wheat is thus Uable
to glut, while ornament is, at any rate, not so necessarily. When
supply is conceived of as being made to tribes and nations rather
than to individuals, and when the article suppUed is one that con-
tributes to the success of the individual in his contests or rivalries
with his fellows, an exception is found to the rule that demand must
diminish as supply increases. On the contrary, we find that every
increase of supply may come to be indissolubly linked with an equiva-
lent increase of demand. Give one tribe of savages on a new continent
muskets, and muskets at once become a life-and-death necessity
to every neighbouring tribe. The zone of demand must widen witii
every extension of the zone of supply. Peaceful life, however, has
its rivabries and contests as well as warlike. The reason why the
savage wants ornaments is that he may outshine his neighbours, or, at
any rate, that he may avoid being outshone by them. Life might be
possible without such ornaments, but for him not a life that is worth
living. If he would win for himself a wife, if he would gain the con-
sideration of his fellows, then they are not to be done without, and the
more of them he can get the better. Thus the desire for the attain-
ment of distinction or for the maintenance of position in life produces
essentially the same effects at both ends of the scale. At the one it
makes men crave for necklaces, bangles, and nose-rings ; at the other,
for the power of drawing, at his pleasure, cheques for great sums of
money — ^that is, in the ultimate analysis, for the immediate command
of great quantities of gold.
Suppose, however, that we can see some reason why a material
of ornament might attain the degree of acceptability needed to con-
vert it into money, a second question presents itself, the question
What was it that caused the precious metals to distance all other
forms of ornament in attaining such a position, and how has the value
>* See Money, p. 407.
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1906 OBIGIN OF MONET FROM ORNAMENT 297
of gold become so tmyarymg as the whole business world always
regards it as being ? Every form of ornament must have had the
tendency towards changes of fashion to reckon with. How is it that
this tendency was overcome to a great extent by both gold and silver,
to begin with, and that the possibility of its ever affecting the monetary
position of gold, at any rate, is never so much as thought of now ?
Here, I think, comes in the influence of the other currently enumerated
monetary characteristics — ^homogeneity, portabiUty, divisibihty, and
so on. It was not, of course, that a convention of miraculous savages
ever said to themselves, ' These metals are homogeneous, portable, and
divisible, therefore we will choose them as our medium of exchange.'
Things do not happen in that way in this world of ours. We have
rather to look to the fact that the possession of these characteristics
would confer on the forms of ornament that possessed them some
iegtee of added suitability for early payments, say for gifts, ransoms,^*^
indemnities, and suchlike ; and that, again, this suitability for such
payments — ^payments that brought with them, perhaps, increase of
social power and influence, or deUverance from death for one's self or
those dearest to him — ^would again react on the subjective apprecia-
tion of the ornaments, and would both enhance and steady their
estimation — their beauty even— in the eyes of the tribe. The enhanced
estimation would, again, increase their suitability for payments, and
so the two forces would continuously react on each other, perhaps
throughout long ages. We have a parallel instance of such action
and reaction in the case of the transformation of dialects into distinct
and separate languages. We have there to take account of the fact
that every change of dialect tends to modify the organ of speech, while,
at the same time, every modification of the organ of speech tends to
make the changes of dialect always more and more pronounced.
The most important of the monetary characteristics is homogeneity.
It is homogeneity that first renders anything like precise proportion-
ment of payments to the quantity of goods or the importance of
services possible, and thus, as it seems to me, first enables the concep-
tion of value in the economic sense to come into existence. It is,
therefore, interesting to note that this characteristic of homogeneity
was shared by the shell money, which in a great part of the world
anticipated the rise of metallic money. One cowry shell being much
like another, they could be, and were, ranged on strings of given length,
or measured out in vessels of a given size, and could thus, Uke gold
and silver after them, begin to exercise the functions both of media
of exchange and of standards of value.
William Wabrand Cabule.
** In the lUadt while trade was in the barter stage, stores of gold and brass were
beld for such purposes as ransoms. See, for instance, the sapplications for mercy of
liyoaoD and Dolon to Aohilles and Ulysses respeotively.
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298 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Aug.
HOUSEKEEPING AND NATIONAL
WELL-BEING
So much has been said about the ph3rsical deterioration of the lower
classes that many of us have come to regard it as an accomplished
fact — one of those natural phenomena which produce themsdves at
a certain stage of the history of the nation very much as phyrical
phenomena produce themselves at a certwi stage of the human
body's evolution. The people who think on this subject at all may
be divided roughly into three classes : those who shrug their shoulders
and say it is idle to try to fight against what a briUiant French
writer has called ^ L'agencement fatal des sooi6t6s ' ; those who
would meet the evil with wild schemes of mental and moral evolution ;
and those few who see that it is only to be conquered in a simple and
practical way. It is with these last that we have to do, and, first of
all, it would be interesting to examine the psychological conditions
which have brought about the state of things we all deplore. The
housing of the working classes is, of course, the first point to attack,
but this is so manifest a necessity that it is imiversaDy admitted.
Yet we find the same narrow-chested, toothless, pale, ansomio boys
and girls in the beautiful country districts, where the cottages are all
that is to be desired, as we do in the most crowded sltuns of liondon.
So the overcrowding cannot be the only source of mischiei
The root of the evil is so very easy to find that it is almost gro-
tesquely simple when we at last come upon it. The cause of the
deterioration of the population Ues almost solely in the fact that our
women know nothing about the duties which Nature intends them
to perform. The girls marry, often much too eariy, alwajrs without
a thought as to whether they are in a fit condition to bear children,
and always without any notion of how to treat those children when
bom. They have a smattering of what is called education, and can
probably tell you where St. Petersburg is, and how to reckon com-
pound interest; but the old-fashioned training in simple domestic
knowledge, first by the mother, and then later for a year or two by
some wise and kindly mistress, is a thing of the past. The one
ambition of the village, equally wit^b the town-bred, girl, should she
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1906 HOUSEKEEPING AND TEE NATION 299
not many, is no longer to go into domestic servioe, but to become a
telegraph derk or a female typist. But to return to those who do
many. They have just enough education to despise domestic work,
and to read the rubbishy newspapers and magazines which are pro-
vided in thousands for their class. The greater part of their food, as
well as their clothes, is bought ready made, and their one idea with
regard to their children is to get them off their hands as soon as possible.
There is no lack of kindness to children among the English lower
classes^ in spite of the many hideous cases which come yearly into
tiie police courts. The average mother is very good-natured to
her children, and far, far too lenient. But she has absolutely no
knowledge of discipUne, and she cannot teach them the simplest
lessons of cleanliness and hygiene, because she does not know them
herself.
This want of common knowledge among the poor has been, I
know, widely deplored and commented upon, especially lately ; but
I think those who condemn their working-women sisters scarcely
realise their own defidendes. There is but one way to improve the
physique of the children of the nation, and that is to teach the women
all the old domestic duties which were the pride and joy of their
grandmothers — to teach them to bake, to sew, to cook, and above
all, how to treat a baby, and how to treat themselves before the said
baby makes its appearance. This could very easily be done if the
well-to-do women were willing to teach them ; but how many of the
women of the middle or upper classes do know any of these things ?
And is it fair to expect the lower classes to be thrifty housewives and
wise mothers when we, who are so much better educated, better
nurtured, and better housed, are, many of us, such a dismal failure ?
For we do fail, on the whole, though there are doubtiess individual
exceptions.
Please observe that, in making this general assertion, I leave out
of the accotmt that insignificant number of absolutely self-indulgent
and worthless women who float as the froth on the surface of every
old civilisation. The women who gamble, and paint their faces, and
spend their Uves dressing and amusing themselves are not very
numerous, and the influence they exert, except on women as foolish
as themselves, is infinitesimal. You wiU find such women in Paris
and Berlin as well as in London. They have existed from all time,
and all dasses agree in denouncing them. But in Paris and Berlin
the neglect of small womanly duties is confined to this special class,
whereas in England the respectable woman, impeccable as to mind
and morals, n^ects her home as much as her butterfly sister does.
The really 'good' woman who attends philanthropic and poUtical
meetings, or frequents studios and concerts when she ought to be
mJTMling her own domestic business, is doing just as much mischief
as the woman who plays Bridge all the evening and half the afternoon.
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800 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Aug.
To-day the English lady is the woist housekeeper in the worid.
Two hundred years ago she was the best.
Any woman who takes pains with her housekeeping, and wants to
make it a success, knows the constant fight that goes on before a new
servant can be got to realise that his or her mistress insists on super-
vising everything herself, and seeing that the work is thoroughly done.
The better servant Ukes this supervision, infinitely preferring to work
for a mistress who knows what she is about. The bad servant natu-
rally objects, as it materially reduces the opportunities for swindling.
But good and bad aUke are greatly surprised. Over and over agun
has every capable mistress heard the phrase, ^ My last mistress never
came into the kitchen ' ; ' My last mistress never looked at the
accounts — ^Mr. So-and-So always paid them.' In fact, so strong has
public opinion on the subject become, that it is considered rather
unladyUke and bad form to have anytiiing to do with one's house-
keeping at all, and one hears people say contemptuously, ^ Since
So-and-So married she has degenerated into a sort of Qerman Haus-
frau.' How many girls of the upper classes have any knowledge of
the administration of money, of housekeeping, or of the simpler forms
of dressmaking % There are numbers of famihes, each with two or
three daughters, where even the flowers are left to the butler. And
the astounding bad taste of the floral decorations we often meet with
testifies to the fact that they cannot be so left with impunity. Many
girls cannot even sew on a button or do their own hair ! They remain
as ignorant on these matters after marriage as before. A very pretty,
' smart ' married woman of my acquaintance, when her maid goes
away for a few days, does not dare let down her hair till the maid
comes back !
But I seem to hear many women exclaiming, * Why should I do
my own hair if I have a maid to do it for me ? Why should I go into
the kitchen and look after my house, if someone else will do it better
tha^ I ? '
The question is — ^is it better done ! I admit there are a certain
number of houses, run by old family servants, where the mistress
does absolutely nothing, and yet things move as on oiled wheels.
Where, in these rare oases, a high standard is reached without any
trouble on the part of the head of affairs, the indifference seems ex-
cusable. But even here too, I think, the mistress ought to know what
is going on, if only for the sake of example. Otherwise the small
minority who do try to, and do make their houses charming, are per-
petually at war with the public opinion which has made servants
think tiiat it is wrong for their mistress not to leave everything blindly
to them.
How many London houses are insufficiently cleaned ? Those
who are in the habit of hiring for the season well know. How many
people fail to have good, well-cooked food, not only for dinner parties.
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1906 HOUSEKEEPING AND THE NATION 801
but on days when they are alone ? This we most of us also know.
The zichy it is trae, pay fancy pnces for cooks and butlers, thereby
attaining a certain level of comfort at a vast expenditure of money.
But for people who are not rich the standard of comfort is often
deplorable. Every ' Ladies' Paper ' is full of denunciations of servants,
and on all sides we hear the cry for reform. But the fault is not on
the servants' side. Why should they be expected to have all the
virtues and their masters and mistresses none ? Why should they
dress quietly, work hard, be considerate and methodical, if their
employers dress Uke actresses, spend their time amusing them-
selves, and never have a moment to look into the details of their
households ?
And here comes in the more important side of the question. Every
one of those servants, who sees in what poor esteem the duties which
pertain to a home are held, has relations in a far lower sphere of Ufe
whom he or she is constantly telling of the ways of their employers.
No people are so imitative as uneducated people, and the fact that
NelUe the kitchenmaid is taught to be clean, well-mannered, a good
and not wasteful cook, and an honest human being, would influence
all Nellie's relations, who in their turn would influence their Uttle
circle. And vice versa. I only speak of the mere material side of
life. On the deeper condemnation drawn upon us by the educative
possibiUties thrown away through never trying to help, teach, or
influence those who live with us, I do not now insist, neither do I
dwell on the most important point of all — the care of children. It
would, however, be instructive to ascertain the percentage of women
belonging to the middle and upper classes who would not find them-
selves utterly stranded if their nurse had suddenly to leave them, or
if any other emergency occurred. How many Enghshwomen know
how to ' bath ' a baby, or what to do if it is ill ? or even how to
keep a sick-room tidy and well ventilated ? The head nurse, who
will not allow her mistress to enter the nursery except at stated hours,
has this amount of excuse, that she realises how incompetent that
mistress is.
And a visit to any of our universities is apt to make us wonder
whether the degeneration observed in the lower classes is not equally
to be found in the sons of the well-to-do. How many of the young
men running by the river at a college race look the kind of human
beings that an unbiassed mother would be proud of ? How many of
their mouths shut ? How many have properly developed chests> are
not knock-kneed, and do not wear spectacles ?
Now, what do all the women who belong to what are known as
the leisured classes do with their time ?
The more able among them are on committees, or write, or have
taken up some branch of art, and will tell you with conscious pride
that ' they really cannot be bothered with housekeeping.' The less
Vol. LVra— No. 842 X
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able do nothing but athletioB, society, reading of a more or less
useless description, and mild philanthropy. Let me not be mis-
understood. Where there is real talent, nothing that I have said
applies. If the woman is a genuine artist in any Une, and if her work
is really of value to the nation at large, it is no doubt more important
that she should follow her natural bent than that she should see that
the work which lies at her door is well done — alwajm provided that
she has no children. Even if she could write like Shakespeare, the
care of her children ought to come first. But how many women are
so gifted that the world would be the poorer if they abstained from
developing their gifts! We all have friends who paint pictures.
How many of them, after spending hours over their palettes, have
produced work which anyone, a hundred years hence, will care to
possess ? We all know women who write. Are their productions so
illuminating ? And is it not a fact, when we look into the matter,
that the women who paint or write or make music, really weU, are the
first to admit that the other duties are the more important, and pat
this view into practice ?
One word as to athletics. I acknowledge their value, both in the
developing of the body and in the keeping of it in health — and
perhaps even more in the keeping up of the morale of women, many
of whom are inclined to be morbid. But athletica should be regarded
as a means, not as an end ; and exercise for two hours a day is the
outside any woman needs to keep her in health. Two hours a day
will not interfere either with her housekeeping or the care of her
children. If she wants to take up athletics as a profession she has
no right to marry. How long would a man, unless indeed he were a
high Qovemment official, be retained in an office if he insisted on
devoting half his employer's time to playing golf ? The comparison
is not far-fetched, for surely it is as unconscientious for a wife to
neglect her household, when her husband feeds, clothes, and supports
her, as for a manager or clerk to take money for work that he scamps.
There are plenty of women who do not marry, plenty who by cir-
cumstances are so placed that they have few demands made on their
time. That these women should fill their lives with outside things
is only right and proper. But most women, if they bring all their
intelligence to bear on the difficulties of making even a small home
perfect, will find their dajrs full enough.
It is not an easy thing to be a good wife and mother. In truth,
so difficult is it that if only women were to realise how hard it is, and
to make the necessary effort, the world would become a Paradise in
the course of a few generations. Think of the incalculable misery
we see around us, and how much of it is due, not so much to the
actual wrong-doing of women as to their hopeless stupidity,
t . What then is the solution of this particular problem ? It is surdy
this. Teach the women of England that to look after their houses
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1906 HOUSEKEEPING AND THE NATION 808
and their oliildren is not bourgecns, is not a sign of mental inferiority*
but the fulfilment of their destiny, and that until this end is acoom-
pfished they have no right to devote themselves to society, or philan-
thropy, or aihletios, or sport, or hteratoie, or art. Not that it follows
that because a woman is a good housekeeper she need renounce all these
things. It is quite possible to be pretty and charming and well-
infonned without in the least neglecting home duties. Frenchwomen
manage to combine the two rSlei ; they are the most attractive women
in the world, and they are excellent housekeepers. Gterman women —
though they sin against the artistic side of life — are extraordinarily
well-informed, and yet they too are good housekeepers. Why should
not t^e Englishwoman, richly endowed by nature, companionable,
and interested in large questions as she is, be as well-mannered and
well-dressed as the Frenchwoman, as educated and as good a house-
wife as the (German ?
But I hear some of my women readers protest :
* I am sure that my house is clean I I am sure my cooking is
good ! * My answer is :
^I have no doubt that your home is everything that could be
wished, but look around and see if you think the general standard
is a high one.' If it is, why are so many marriages unhappy ! Why
do so many girls take up outside pursuits ? Why are servants so
difficult to get, and, when got, found to be so badly trained ?
The * mother and daughter ' problem, of which we hear so much,
would be considerably simplified if the mother, instead of leaving
h^ daughter in the charge of nurses and governesses until she is
ei^teen, and then trying to mould an already-formed character,
would make the girl her help and companion in the house, giving her
well-defined duties to perform, and thereby fitting her for the work
Bhe will have to undertake later in life.
The effect on the lower classes would be so immense that the
actual increase in physical health in ten years would startle us. Those
who have lived at aJl among the poor know by experience how rare
it is for a man with a good wife to be drawn into either drinking or
gambling. But who can blame a workman, coming home tired from
his woi^ to a hideous, untidy home, for seeking the obvious refuge,
the public-house ? Much can be done by education, more by religion,
to reform the working classes. But the strongest incentive to decency
of living that has ever been is the example of other human beings.
And this can be ^ven without any fuss, without spending money on
bricks and mortar, or salaries to secretaries — without waste of cash
on c(Hnmittee rooms, or private theatricals, or silly little Orders.
Let us learn how the poor folk we employ live. Insist that the
stable boys have decent rooms and clean linen. Keep up a standard,
not of luxury, tiiat alas ! is prevalent enough, but of comfort, decency,
and refinement in our servants' halls. Let ua not merely laugh at,
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804 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Aug.
but fight, the theory that any work is degrading, showing onr servants
that we can lend a hand to help them and yet remain ladies and
gentlemen.
I am not advocating the absurd views of people who give their
servants a billiard-room and tennis courts. That is equally mis-
chievous, for it creates false wants, and what we must try to show the
poor is to find happiness and comfort in limited conditions and not to
be always trying for those they cannot obtain. But we can give them
interests by striving to get them to read decent books instead of the
rubbish they do. We can keep up the tie with them when they
marry and leave service, by helping them a little with their furnishing,
and seeing that their babies are properly looked after. In fact, we
can establish a human relationship between them and us, instead of
following blindly the prejudice of caste which creates an impassable
barrier. Boring work, perhaps, with no kudos attached to it. Far
more amusing to meet a number of delightful women once a week,
and discuss what can be done to ameliorate the condition of the lower
classes, and perhaps listen to an interesting paper on the subject read
by an eminent divine ; but, for those who really suffer from the misery
around them, the only way to help permanently.
What we want is a mission to the West-end and not to the East-
end. It is our neglect and carelessness that have created this pro-
blem, which is now paraljndng us by its difficulty of solution.
And the tragic part of it is that there is no lack of good feeling
or willingness to help. Half everybody's acquaintance is occupied
in teaching games to boys and girls in the East-end. We are endeavour-
ing to make the poor as dependent on amusements a& we are our-
selves. But does this really do any good f Is not the real need some-
thing that will put a more serious view of life into them and our-
selves, and teach us all — ^at the risk of being called priggish — that
the membership of a great nation involves certain work and certain
sacrifices from each unit, and that, as in a machine, it is no good
that half the wheels should work smoothly if the other half do not
do their work properly % So it is equally useless that the men of
England should tiy to be patriotic if the women refuse to bear their
share of the burden. We are accused of being a nation of snobs, and
with some truth. But snobbishness, like all other faults, has les
qucdiUs de ses difauis, and the poor, once they saw the classes above
them trying for a higher standard, would inevitably come into line.
The imitative faculty which leads men and women of the people to
gamble, spend money on dress, and waste time because their superiors
do so, will also lead them to copy thdr good points. Most people
have noticed what happy, comfortable homes those working men
have who marry a girl trained in a good house. She does not at
once drop the habits of a lifetime, and the fact that her old mistress
insisted' on the baby being in bed by 6.30 will prompt her to have
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1905 HOUSEKEEPING AND THE NATION 806
her own baby in bed early, thereby preventing her husband from
flying before its tired whimperings to the pabUc-house.
Just at present there is a great movement on foot for feeding the
children of the poor at school. While sympathising most truly with
hungry children, would it not be well to consider whether we should
not, by these means, be encouraging parents to still more neglect their
bounden duty, and make it yet harder for the respectable man who
does try to feed his children and bring them up properly ?
To sum up the situation in a sentence, the nation is sick, and each
fresh doctor prescribes a fresh drug. Drugs, however, as we are
beginning to realise, are of little avail, and we must look to the only
alternative cures, whether in national or domestic sickness, namely,
diet, or the knife. Let us pray that we may escape the knife, and let
us reform our everyday diet in a simple and practical way, by changing
radically the system on which we bring up our daughters. Let us
see to it that they realise what their true destiny is, not only to be the
mothers of the generation to come, but also to be competent citizens,
fulfilling their didly task as they expect men to fulfil theirs.
Clara Jackson.
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806 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Aug.
A NOTE ON WOMENS SUFFRAGE FROM
THE COMMON^SENSE POINT OF VIEW
Now that the House of Ciommons has repeatedly passed the second
reading of 'a Bill conferring the franchise on women ratepayers, they
have clearly brought the question into the region of practical poUtics,
and made it incumbent on all who take an interest in such matters
to make up their minds definitely, whether such a change would be
for the advantage of the nation or not.
The first thing to consider is, would the class referred to be worthy
of enfranchisement if they were not women ? I think it would be
generally agreed that this question should be answered in the affirma-
tive. Women ratepayers are usually persons of some property, and
of mature age. Frequently engaged in business, sometimes landowners
or houseowners, they are people who have a position in the country
which would cause them to be looked upon, if they were men, as a very
useful addition to the more sober and serious portion of the voting
community. There are two sets of objections which are usually urged
against the concession of the vote to this particular class. The first
is that women are unfit to vote, that it will unsez them, that they are
constitutionally incapable of coming to a sensible decision on matters
of business, that they are entirely ruled by their emotions, that they
will vote for the man who appeals to their sentiments and not to their
reason, and so on. The second class of objectors do not deny that it
would be harmless, and perhaps beneficial, to add women ratepayers
to the electoral register, but they say this is only the thin end of the
wedge. If you include women ratepayers now, later on you will have
to include married women. From a common-sense point of view I
should Uke to answer these last with another question. Where would
be the great harm of including married women ? Would it not simply
double the married man's vote ? In nineteen cases out of twenty
would not husband and wife vote alike % But for that very reason I
think such an extension of the vote would be unnecessary.
The really serious opponents of the measure, however, belong to
the first class. Ck)nstitutionaUst8 who are alarmed at the introduc-
tion of a new principle, chivalrous men who have such a respect for
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1906 A NOTE ON WOMEN'S 8UFFBAGE 807
our sex that they are afraid of the contaminating influence of pohtics
upon it, and those who, having associated much with the baser members
of it, have a hearty and scarcely veiled contempt for all women. Whigs,
prigs, and pigs, as I once heiuxl them flippantly described ; these all
have a genuine fear that the concession of women's suffrage would be
a national disaster.
Now let us see if there is any evidence that our sex unfits
us to form sensible opinions on poUtical matters, and to choose the
best men for carrying those opinions into effect. I do not deny that
there are many things that men can do which women cannot do.
But what are these things ? Women cannot be, or at least have never
been, great musicians. I mean composers of original music. Very
few of them can be artists, hardly any have reached really first
rank as painters, sculptors, or poets, though they have had plenty of
opportunities of studying and practising all these arts. But they
can be politicians. PoUtical ability, a capacity for the science of
government, call it what you will, seems to be almost more common
among wcnnen than it is among men. Compare their opportunities
and achievements in this field of activity with their opportunities
and achievements in those other directions to which I have just
dluded.
Very few women have been queens or regents. They have never
been selected for any special fitness. The accidental failure of male
heirs, the death or absence of a husband, has suddenly placed the
leins of power in their hands. In all ages, in all states of civilisation,
what a large measure of success has attended their rule I The reign
of a queen is almost always a period of progress and prosperity ; and
many nations, notably our own among them, have made their most
conspicuous advances when imder the government of a woman.
Have queens been exceptionally emotional in their public acts ? Have
tiiey sacrificed the welfare of their people to their private affections ?
Have they been lacking in courage to defend the national honour when
necessary? I think no fair-minded man can deny that history
would answer all these questions in the negative. Is it not probable
that, as the sample is, so will the bulk be — that the humble voter
will not be influenced by very different motives from those which
have ruled the conduct of her more briUiant sisters I
I commend this line of thought to all those, both men and women,
who regard the proposed iimovation as dangerous. Sane common-
aense is a quahty not more rare among women than among men, and
that is after all the quahty that is most valuable in pohticai matters.
Maud Selborne.
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THE CONTEST FOR SEA^POWER,
GERMANY'S OPPORTUNITY
Thb balance of naval power in the world has been dramatically
readjusted owing to the completeness of the victory of the Japanese
Navy. Were it not for the naval ambitions of Germany, the moment
would be opportune for an international agreement for a limitation of
naval armaments. This understanding, so br as the British people
are concerned, need not necessarily be set down in black and white,
because the building resources of this country are so unrivalled that
at any moment British shipyards, Gk)vemment and private, can pro-
duce a tonnage equivalent to the output of any other three nations.
In the circumstances it would, therefore, be sufficient for British
interests if the agreement to limit the construction of new men-of-war
were of an indefinite character. To any such action Qermany, and
Germany only, bars the way.
The British people, who have held the supremacy of the seas for
so long, naturally view with alarm the determined efforts of yet
another Power to place afloat a great fleet which in certain circum-
stances might be in a position to contest the command of European
waters. But it is as well that this irritation should not hide the fact
that Germany, by reason of her geographical situation and her rapidly
developing commerce, may justifiably claim that she requires a Navy
to protect her legitimate interests. Next to Great Britain, Grermany
has the most considerable mercantile marine in the world, and it
needs no stretch of imagination to appreciate the danger in which her
shipping would be placed in time of war if the German flag were not
in a position to defend it. If the German people had not realised the
need for a large war fleet, they would have been guilty of remarkable
blindness to their own welfare as a manufacturing people with a large
oversea trade conducted by means of their own merchant ships. In
the interests of the future good relations between the two countries,
it is essential that the British people should realise that Germany is
England's principal European rival in the peaceful pursuits of com-
merce on the world's seas, and that, this position having been obtained,
a strong Navy is a necessary adjunct. Germany's aspirations may be
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1906 THE CONTEST FOB SEA-POWER 809
traced in some measoie to natural causes, and the success with which
they are being realised should act as an incentive to British ship-
owners to greater enterprise and more strenuous efforts.
The point of immediate moment is whether some influence cannot
be brought to bear upon the German Gk>yemment so that the strength
of the war fleet may be kept within the reasonable limits dictated by
the siEe of Germany's mercantile marine and the character of the
territory to be defended. Of course no other nation has a right even
to suggest directly to the Kaiser and his advisers the number of battle-
ships which they should maint>ain, but a great step forward towards
the limitation of the present contest for sea-power would have been
taken if by some means the German people could be shown that they,
and they alone, are checking a world-wide movement towards economy
in naval armaments. Unfortunately the German Navy League has
disseminated throughout the Ehnpire an entirely erroneous view of
Great Britain's position and the attitude of public opinion. It has
conveyed to its 600,000 members the impression that Great Britain
has reached the high-water mark of naval expenditure, and that con-
sequently the more money German people devote to strengthening
their fleet the more nearly will they approach the British naval
standard. The temper of the people of Great Britain has assuredly
been misinterpreted. Never was there a time when the essential
character of the British fleet in the scheme of British defence was
more widely recognised, and the detenmnation to maintain it in
adequate strength held with more dogged determination. There is
no sacrifice which the British people will not make in the interest of
British supremacy, and the sooner this central fact which dominates
the naval situation is realised in Germany, the sooner will the present
rcdnous rivalry in naval aggrandisement cease.
At this moment an unique opportunity occurs for reducing the
burden which the maintenance of the colossal fleets of the great
Powers casts upon the people of Europe and America. In a period
of sixteen months the whole fighting fleet of Russia has been swept
ofi the seas. Outside the Baltic the Czar has only one battleship ready
for sea, and that of the second class, the Alexanier IL, eighteen years
old. Another battleship of 13,616 tons, which has been christened
the /SleMxi, i3 neariy completed, while two other battleships are in the
early stages of construction. Two other battleships are being built
in the Black Sea. The vessels in the Black Sea may be definitely
eliminated from all calculations of naval strength. If Russia had
not the courage to break out from these waters in contravention of
her treaty obligations when she possessed the third greatest fleet in
the world, a fleet of high prestige, she will surely not dare now to
tamper with the Treaty of Berlin. The composition of the Russian
force is opposed to its usefulness against a modem ocean-going
squadron, and the British fleet commands the Mediterranean in
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unrivalled power. We may safely dismiss this bogey force of Russia ;
it can exercise no influence outside the Black Sea. This hypothesis
is inevitable on the &ct8 as they now exist, and there remain only the
naval resources of the Baltic to be considered. By the end of this
year Russia may hope to have the battleship SUwa ready for sea,
and two years hence this vessel will be joined by the two battleships
of 16,630 tons which were laid down at the Baltic and Oalemy Island
yards at St. Petersburg in the course of last year. Thus the end of
1907 will be reached, and Russia will possess only three first-dass
battleships ; and judged by the fate of the Russian-built ships which
took part in the battle of the Sea of Japan, it is by no means certain
that even these three vessels will be veritable men-of-war. There is
ground for suspicion that Russian naval construction is radically
faulty.
Even as a second-class naval Power Russia may be eliminated
from all calculations. For many years to come she must be a negli-
gible quantily in European waters. Far more sraisational thiui the
losses which she has suffered in the struggle with Japan has been the
revelation of the inefficiency of her personnd in all the essentials of
warlike training. The Russians have never been either seamen or
mechanicians, and the modem sailor requires both a fauniliarity with
the sea and a mechanical aptitude. The limitations which the
Russian sailors have revealed in such glaring colours in the course of
the war may be traced in part to their environment and the social
condition of Russia, and in part to the restricticms under which sea
training must be carried out. A large proportion of the population
of Russia is uneducated, and the modem bluejacket must be well
equipped mentally if he is to vie with his ^ opposite numbers ' in other
European navies. Moreover, the Russian sailor is drawn for the most
part from inland provinces : the sea is to him a strange and fearsome
element, and some time elapses before he becomes reconciled to the
life to which he is condemned by conscript laws. Never more than
to-day has it been trae that one volunteer is worth two pressed men.
In the war in the Far East the Russians, it is said, metconscript crews
in battle, but there was this essential difference, that the Russians
fought merely because they had to fight, and did so without any
patriotic ambition, whereas the highly intelligent Japanese crews were
saturated with a patriotic enthusiasm which found an outlet in the
bdle use of all the complicated weapons of war.
The restrictions imposed upon Russia by her geographical situation
are self-evident. Outside the Black Sea she has only one ice-free
port now that Fort Arthur has been lost, and even Libau leaved
much to be desired. Consequently the Russian Navy must remain
in the future, as it has been in the past, a summer Navy. During the
long winter months whatever ships she may acquire must remain in
harbour, and not until the ice has broken up can the naval authorities
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1906 THE CONTEST FOB SEA-POWEB 811
tarn their attention to sea practioe of the crews. If the work were
weQ done in the summer months a passable Navy might be evolved.
But theBnssian bluejaoket has no enthusiasm for his task at best, and
at wcnst is a poor dumb driven animal with the tenacity and courage
of a bull, which in these days of scientific instruments and long-range
actions count for little. Out of such material, and circumscribed by so
many limitations and geographical restrictions, Russia cannot hope to
become a naval Power in this generation. CSonsequently the British
people have no reason to view with nervous alarm the efforts which,
it has been said, are being made at St. Petersburg to draft a programme
for the rebuilding of the Russian fleet. It has been reported that the
Ministry of Marine have under consideration a project for building a
large number of vessels in the Baltic yards. In tiie course of three
yeara, it is said, eight battleships, each of from 16,000 to 18,000 tons
displacement, will be built, together with five armoured cruisers of
16,000 tons, five armoured cruisers of 10,000 tons, four i^moured
cruiserB of 6,000 tons, sixty torpedo cruisers, ten squadron torpedo
boats, twenty torpedo boats, sixty' submarines, and a number of
river gunboats and smaller craft. The suggestion that a programme
of these colossal proportions can be carried out in Russian shipbuilding
yards witliin a short period is too absurd to merit serious considera-
tion, and even if the work could be done the cost would amount to from
twenly-five to thirty million pounds. It may be that, as in the past,
Russia will call in the assistance of shipbuilding yards in Germany,
Fmnoe, and America to help her in re-creating the fleet. By these
means she may obtain within five or six years practically as many
men-of-war of various types as the Russian Admiralty in its wildest
and most sanguine moments can desire.
When the vessels are complete, where are the trained crews to be
obtained with which to man l^em ? In the course of the present war
Russia has lost the flower of her naval personnel^ and her apologists
must be convinced that in the hands of officers and men tzained
under the present system even the most powerful man-of-war, with the
best guns, the hardest armour, and the finest machinery, must become
comparatively innocuous to an enemy whose crews have been ade-
quately trained. Russia might find it possible to raise sufficient
money to pay for the construction of a large number of ships, but
if she pours out her treasure with the most lavish hand, she cannot
convert these inert engines of war into veritable emblems of sea-
power, because she does not possess the resources with which to
provide them with trained officers and men. During the present
generation Russia must be regarded as definitely swept off the seas.
The prestige of her Navy stands lower than that of any fleet in the
world, and by no miracle, by no autocratic rescript, by no friendly
aflsistanoe of neighbouring nations, can it be placed in our time again
in the position which it occupied prior to the war. Whatever may be
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true of the Russian Army, the Russian Navy is dead, and before it can
be called to life again the Empire must undergo a revolution in thought
and in method, and must bend itself to the acquisition of that technical
facility which may do something to compensate for the absence of
sea aptitude.
It is a fortunate coincidence that the destruction of the Russian
fleet should have occurred at a time when, with the single exception
of Germany, there are evidences of a desire by the great Powers to
limit the expenditure on their fleets. The British estimates this year
show a reduction of three and a half miUion pounds, and the programme
of shipbuilding which Parliament has authorised includes only one
battleship and four armoused cruisers. The battleship, it is true,
will be equal to any two battleships now afloat in offensive and defen-
sive quaUties, and the armoured cruisers will be more than equivalent
in fighting power to any battieship in the French or German navies.
This is stating the case with eictreme moderation. In view of the
debacle of the Russian fleet on May 27-29, it would not be surprising,
however, if the Admiralty determined to postpone the construction of
at least one of the armoured cruisers. But apart from any modi-
fication which may be made owing to the result of the battle of the
Sea of Japan, the programme of shipbuilding for this year, judged by
the number of units, is the smallest for a decade past. As will be
shown, the Admiralty are thoroughly justified in the action which they
have taken in view of the events of the past sixteen months.
Turning to the French Navy, here again there is no evidence of a
continuation of the mad race for sea-power. France is laying down
no battleship and only one armoured cruiser this year. In the past
six years France has b^un only six battleships to twelve begun by
Germany, and Germany is responsible for the anxiety as to the
strength of the French fleet which has recently occurred. The French
people have witnessed year by year extraordinary activity across the
frontier. With admirable self -constraint they refused to abandon the
unambitious programme to which they set their hands in 1900, but
this spirit of calm assurance has at last been dispelled by the immediate
prospect that Germany will possess a greater fleet than the Republic,
and that unless action is immediately taken France must cease to be
the second naval Power. It is only in the face of this emergency, due
entirely to the aggrandisement of Germany, that the French Admiralty
is about to embark upon a new progranune. A resoluti(m inviting
the Government to submit a scheme of new construction was adopted
by the French Parliament by a majority of 342 votes, and the
probabiUty is that very shortiy the country will be committed to a
programme of construction entailing an annual expenditure of nearly
five miUions, or about one and a half millions more than Germany is
spending in the present year. On the other hand, it must be remem-
bered that Germany, owing to her more efficient resources, is able to
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1905 THE CONTEST FOB SEA-POWEB 313
complete men-of-war at a much cheaper rate than French shipyards.
In tiie case of France we have, therefore, the spectacle of a country
which has persistently limited the expenditure on its fleet for several
years past, and which is now departing from this poUcy only in the
bee of the serious situation created by Qermany. In Italy the naval
expenditure for many years has varied singularly little from year
to year. This has been due more to financial stringency than to
any hope that the modesty of the Italian programme would affect the
action of other Powers.
This short review exhausts the first-class naval Powers of Europe
with the exception of Germany. Under the inspiration of the Kaiser,
assisted by the Qerman Navy League, the colossal progranmie of
1900, which aims at more than doubling the size of the Qerman fleet
9a it existed at the beginning of the century, is being carried out in
advance of the programme dates. In accordance with this scheme
the Qerman fleet should consist of thirty-eight battleships and fourteen
armoured cruisers by 1920. Qermany possesses already thirty-seven
battleships built or building, but of these many are of the third
class and will automatically be replaced by ships of the first class.
The programme of 1900 also included six additional armoured cruisers
and seven small protected cruisers. These thirteen ships were intended
for service abroad. The Reichstag refused this portion of the pro-
gramme, but Admiral Tirpitz announced that he should regard these
ships merely as postponed and not abandoned. Five years have passed,
and this autunm this rejected portion of the progranmie will again
be introduced in a fresh form. If rumour may be credited the six
armoured cruisers will be battleships in fact, if not in name, and since
small protected cruisers are now discredited the seven vessels of this
dass will be displaced in the progranune by forty-two destroyers. It is
the reintroduction of this portion of the progranmie of 1900 in a more
aggressive form, and the steady concentration of the whole fighting
power of (jermany in the North Sea, which has legitimately caused
anxiety not only in England but in France, and must exercise a powerful
influence upon the future programmes of both these Powers. On land
the army of France is probably no match for the legions of Germany,
and consequentiy it is reasonable that the French people should feel
alarmed at the prospect of relinquishing into the hands of Germany
the position of the second sea-Power in the world. In England, as
in France, therefore, Germany is the Power which is provoking pre-
cautionary measures which the utterances of the Kaiser himself,
the German Navy League, and many public men throughout the
Oerman Empire have amply justified.
It has become a settled axiom that the continued growth of the
fleet of the United States should not be regarded as dangerous to
British supremacy, though the maintenance by America of an in-
creasingly large fleet off the PhiUppines may in certain contingencies
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814 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Aug.
interfere with the policy of the Admiralty to concentrate all the
fighting units in the ' Near Seas.' It may be found essential for com-
mercial reasons to support the British flag in China seas with at least
as large a force as America employs. This, however, is a side issue,
and the most significant fact in the present development of tiie
American Navy is the difference of opinion on the other side of the
Atlantic as to the wisdom of the present active naval policy. In
the present year the General Naval Board recommended that three
battleships should be commenced, but this proposal was reduced by
one-third by the Naval Committee of the House of Representatives,
and tiiis reduction was fifterwards confirmed. American sentiment
is by no means in agreement with President Roosevelt, whose ambi-
tion it is to see the American RepubUc defended by a great fleet. In
spite of the wealth of the American people they realise that, owing
to their tariff system, sea-power must be more expensive to them
than to the British nation. The cost of construction is very much
higher, and owing to the rate of wages which rules throu^out the
United States, the officers and men have to be paid on a far higher
scale than in the British Navy, and the disproportion between the cost
of the American fermmnd and that of Qermany, France, and Italy
IS even more remarkable. In the case of America, one of the main
contributory causes of the expansion of the fleet is the action of
Germany. The inception of the naval movement in America dates,
it is true, from the Venezuela trouble during the presidency of Ur.
Cleveland, but it is impossible to read the debates in later years without
realising that one of the main objects which is bdng kept in view is
the provision of a fleet of suffident strength to frighten away any
European Power — Germany in particular— which might be tempted to
interfere with any of the South American Republics and even seize
territory from them. If Germany slackened her pace her action
would greatly strengthen the hands of a large section of the American
public who regard the aspirations of President Roosevelt without
sympathy.
There was never a time when the British people could approadi
the question of a limitation of naval armaments with more equable
mind. Owing to the sacrifices which have been made since the
Naval Defence Act was passed, the two-Power standard in battieships
has been attained, apart from the margin of a strength ear-marked for
commerce protection and represented by a large number of armoured
cruisers. In consequence of the losses suffered by Russia the British
Navy has gained proportionately in strength.
From 1889 down to 1900 the two-Power standard was calculated
exclusively with reference to France and Russia. Parliament in-
sisted that the British Navy should comprise at least as many battie-
ships as the fleets of the Dual Alliance, and that each battleship
should be superior in fighting power. This standard of comparison
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1906 THE CONTEST FOB SEA-POWEB 816
has now completely broken down, because the Russian fleet no longer ^
exists, and since the United States and Japan cannot be regarded
as coming within the category of Powers with whom war is probable,
Germany naturally takes the place of Russia in British calculations.
In estimating the relative strength of the British fleet we must in
future, therefore, take into account the battleships built or building
for Germany and France. This will be the basis at any rate during
the present generation, in which the Russian fleet must continue
to be a negligible quantity.
It is, however, especially difficult at the present moment to imagine
any circumstances which would bring the fleets of Germany and
France into Une. The memories of 1870 Jiave not died, and recent
events in Morocco have certainly not tended to draw the two nations
together in amity and a desire for co-operation. Thanks to the
splendid work of the King, supported by Lord Lansdowne, England
no longer occupies a position of splendid isolation, surrounded on all
sides by nations regarding her with jealousy and hatred. We are
on the most cordial terms not only with France, but with Japan,
America, Spain, Portugal, and also with Italy, and we may be sure
that much as France may desire for obvious reasons to improve her
relationB with Gtorman^ ^e will do nothing to threaten her con^
tinuanoe within the circle [ this happy family. With all these
nations we have adjusted outs!teding differences, and this condition
of peaceful environment may reasonably affect in some measure our
defensive machinery. We are no longer faced, as we were faced two
years ago, with a Dual Alliance with fleets approaching in strength
that of the British Empire, but we are faced by two distinct and
unsympathetic peoples, each of whom possesses a Navy of considerably
less than half the fighting power of the British fleet. Is it unreasonable
to believe that in this circumstance the two-Power standard may be
interpreted with less margin for contingencies than was the case even
two years ago i
In consequence of the destruction of fourteen battieships, two
annoiired cnusers, and many protected cruisers in the war in the
Far East, we may disregard, as has been already claimed, the Russian
Navy, or if it gives any pleasure to the wildest enthusiast we may
include the Russian fleet, and thus boast that our Navy has reached
the three-Power standard. It certainly is more than equal, so far as
can be judged by paper contrasts, to the forces which France, Germany,
and Russia could place in line of battle. But as Russia even at the
end of 1907 will have only three first-class battleships, her weight
is not sufficient to justify her serious inclusion in any contrast of
power.
As the Navy League has been protesting that our sea-power is
oidangered by the smallness of this year's programme, it may be
well to disarm the criticism of this organisation by adopting its own
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THE NINETEENTH CENTURY
Aug.
figures for oaloulating the relative strength of the British Navy in
contrast with the fleets of Germany and France. Fifteen or sixteen
years is the effective life of an armoured ship, so rapidly does science
advance in these days. No ship dating back prior to 1889, the date
of the Naval Defence Act, merits inclusion in any comparative state-
ment, and there need therefore be no hesitation in accepting the
Navy League's basis of comparison,^ which begins with that year
and shows the number of battleships built and building in England,
France, and Qermany :
Difplocement of Ships
Orait Britain
From 16,000 to 18,000 tons '
14,000 „ 15,000 „
12,000 „ 14,000 „
10,000 „ 12,000 „
8,000 „ 10,000 „
6,000 „ 8,000 „
4,000 „ 6,000 ,,
Under 4,000 tons
Total! .
11
81
7
4
none
none
i^one
none
58
Franco
none
6
8
8
1
4
none
none
Germany
none
none
10
14
none
none
5
2
22
81
On the basis of these totals, vouched for by the Navy League,
Qreat Britain would appear to possess exactiy the same number of
modem battleships as France and Germany together — ^fifty-three built
and building. This comparison, however, is most misleading, as the
above analysis shows. Five of the French battieships which are
classified even by the Navy League as of the second class are merely
coast-defence ships. Four of them displace less than 7,000 tons,
carrying only sufficient coal for short cruises and mounting only
two big guns either of the 12-inch or 13*4-inch types, and the secondary
armament consists of 3*9-inch quick-firers, of which two ships carry
eight and two others only four. The fifth ship, the Henri /F., is a
vessel of just under 9,000 tons. Turning to Germany, seven of the
so-called ^ battleships ' are coast-defence vessels of the smallest size —
of between 3,500 and 4,100 tons, armed with nothing bigger than
9*4-inch guns. In the combined total of the French and Qerman
fleets we have therefore twelve vessels which do not deserve to be
classed as battieships, and the true figures for the three fleets are as
follows :
-
Battleriilpe
Great Britain ....
France
Germany
58
17
24
6
7
This is a much truer comparison of the fighting material of the
* Navy League Journal, April 1905.
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1906 THE CONTEST FOB 8EA-P0WEB 817
three fleets, but those who care to examine in farther detail the ships
of contemporaneous date will see that the advantage year by year
is with the British Navy, the battleships of which are bigger and far
more powerful than those of France and Germany. All the British
battleships are now concentrated in European waters.
Now that the time has come to readjust the two«Power standard,
so as to contrast the British Navy with that of France and Germany
instead of with the fleets of France and Russia, we still have a good
ma^n of superiority, and never was there a more ill-founded agitation
than that which followed the announcement of the Admiralty ship-
building programme for the present year.
Owing to the commercial position of Great Britain the Admiralty
have refused, and quite rightly, to limit the construction of cruisers
to the two-Power standard, because it is recognised that in time of
war, apart from battle actions aimed at the annihilation of the enemy,
the British fleet would have a heavy responsibiUty in the defence
of the mercantile marine convejdng to this country food and raw
material so essential to our well-being. Since, owing to the develop-
ment in the construction of boilers and engines and improvements
in the manufacture of armour and of powerful guns of medium weight,
the protected cruiser has become obsolete, the Admiralty have been
active in the creation of a great number of armoured vessels. Again
we cannot do better than turn to the Navy League's statement for
a contrast between the progress which has been made by ourselves
and by France and Germany in the construction of this type of men-
of-war once 1889, and it will be seen that British superiority in big
armoured cruisers is very considerable, even if not as complete as a
naval enthusiast can desire or the size of Britain's mercantile marine
suggests as essential :
Armoured Oraiaera
laid down since 1889
Great Britain 89
France 19
Germany 8
The inevitable conclusion to be drawn from these comparisons
is that the Brilash naval position is satisfactory, and that
Germany, which has laid down in the past six years twelve battle-
ships to seventeen begun by Great Britain and six commenced by
France, is fordng the pace in the contest for naval power, and
Germany alone.
It is not alone the size of the German Navy which causes disquiet
in France and England, but the determination with which the poUcy
of concentration is being pursued. Germany claims to be a world-
Fower and to have a say in all international questions, but she masses
all her battie squadrons in and about the Baltic. This poUcy gives
a sinister appearance to her naval aggrandisement because it suggests
tiiat the fleet is being held on the leash to act the part of * honest
Vol. LVm— No. 342 Y
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818 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Aug.
broker ' when England or France is engaged in some enterprise
in which Germany is not concerned. It is possible to imagine circum-
stances in which the Kaiser might employ a fleet, thus concentrated,
with much profit. What more simple than to find cause of inter-
vention after the Navy of either England or France had emerged
from some contest or when either or both were engaged in some
matter in t^e Mediterranean ? This has been the avowed policy
of Germany. It has been evident for years past. But owing to
the wise statesmanship of France and Great Britain the opportunity
seems less near than it did when these two Powers were at enmity.
The entente cordiale which has been demonstrated before the eyes
of the world at Brest has greatly interfered with the plans of Germany
and decreased the value of her fleet a hundredfold. To-day it is
Germany and not England which is in * splendid isolation' ; but unfor-
tunately for the peace of the world the German Empire, having
by its own doings achieved this consolidation of British and French
interests, chooses to regard the accomplished task with jealousy.
German plans have miscarried, and the German people are chagrined
by the fact that they are to-day sohtary and estranged. They are
viewed with no sympathy in England, France, America, or Japan,
and even Spain and Italy have refused to be the tools of the authorities
at Berhn. If Germany is for peace — ^and she needs peace for
the development of her commerce overseas and the upbuilding
of her mercantile marine — ^now is her opportunity to announce her
pacific intentions and crystallise them in an act which cannot be
misunderstood — the abandcmment of her fresh shipbuilding programme.
She needs a navy for the defence of her legitimate interests ; now is
her chance to show that she does not desire a navy for the purposes
of aggression.
If Great Britain has gained by the elimination of the Russian
fleet, so also has Germany, and to an even greater extent. She is no
longer faced with the dread that in the event of hostilities with France
she would also have to contend with the Russian Navy at her very
door, and, therefore, she has all the less reason for the proposal to
introduce an extension of the programme of 1900. If the scheme of
which Admiral Tirpitz has given notice is persevered in, Great
Britain and France will be compelled to take steps to neutralise these
new ships, and after she has spent her treasure in further naval
aggrandisement Germany will be relatively in the same position as she
occupies to-day, while the peoples of all three countries will be con-
siderably poorer. The German fleet owing to financial stringency
is being constructed largely out of loans, and this might be urged
as sufficient reason why she should desist from a mad contest. The
German Emperor and Prince von Bulow have an opportunity to-day
of showing that their policy is one of peace, and they could give no
better illustration than by abandoning the new programme, and thus
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1906 THE CONTEST FOB SEA-POWEB 819
responding to the recent efforts which have been made by the British
and Fiench and the American authorities to limit the outlay upon
the building of men-of-war.
The decision to mass the main British battle squadrons in or
near the English Channel and North Sea is a wise, indeed inevitable,
precaution. As Germany adds to her squadrons in the Baltic, Great
Britain must in self-defence concentrate increasing forces in the
North Sea. It is the inevitable result of Grerman policy, undertaken
in no unfriendliness, but merely in self-defence. The ' Near Seas '
are the British frontiers, and must be as adequately safeguarded as
the land frontiers of Russia and France. Prince von Billow has
indulged in words of peace; now by abandoning the intention to
construct additional men-of-war he can translate these words into
an act which all the world will applaud. Will Germany seize the
opportunity ?
Abohibald S. H^bd.
Y 2
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^MR. SPEAKER'
Thb title of the president of the House of Commons appears at first
sight paradoxical, since ' Mr. Speaker ' does not speak in the debates.
But the original function of the office was to sum up, like the judge
at a trial, the arguments of both sides at the end of a debate, and
to * speak * the views of the House in its contentions with the Crown,
which, as we all know, were many, about supplies and taxes, before
the Revolution of 1688.
The duties of the Speaker to-day are not so anxious or troublesome.
He speaks, as in days of yore, the opinions of the House to the Sovereign,
but the occasions are rare, and are always formal or ceremonious. He
has been, happily, relieved of the invidious, if not impossible, task of
summing up the points of a debate in which the two poUtical parties
argue out their differences. As he sits in the Chair, a picturesque figure
in big wig, ruffles and lace, flowing robe, silk hose and buckled shoes, the
duties he has mainly to discharge are those more appropriate to the
office of president of a deliberative assembly. He controls and guides
the debates. He keeps the talk strictly to the subject of discussion.
He decides points of order. He interprets the rules of the House. He
must be ever ready to assist members in doubt or difficulty about a
question, a motion, or a Bill. In all things he says or does he must be
extremely jealous for the authority, honour and dignity of the
Legislature over which he presides, and of which — ^to use the ancient
phrase — ^he is ' the mouth.'
Above all, Mr. Speaker must be scrupulously fair, absolutely just,
in rulings which afiect any of the poUtical sections of the Assembly,
for the most precious attribute of the Chair of the House of Commons is
impartiality. The Speaker, Uke the King, is supposed to have no
politics. That is now a recognised constitutional principle. Of course
he must have been returned to the House originally as a political
partisan. It follows also that on his first appointment to the Chair he
was necessarily the choice, or the nominee, of the poUtical party which
at the time was in the majority. The Chair of the House of Commons,
when vacated by resignation or death, has always been considered the
legitimate prize of the party then in office or in power. Accordingly
the Speaker has invariably been chosen from the ranks of the
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1905 'MB. SPEAKER' 821
Ministerialists. All the Speakers of the nineteenth century — Sir Henry
Addington (who occupied the Chair at the opening of the century), Sir
John Freeman-Mitfoid, Charles Abbot, Charles Manners-Sutton, James
Abercromby, Charles Shaw-Lefevre, John Evelyn Denison, Henry
Bouverie Brand, Arthur Wellesley Peel, and William Court Gully — ^were
80 chosen and appointed. But whether the Speaker is first designated
by the Government, or carried by the majority of the Government, as
be is being conducted by his proposer and seconder from his place on
the benches to the Chair he dofis his vivid party colours, be they buff
or blue, and wears, instead, the white flower of a neutral political
life ; and, once in the Chair, he is regarded as the choice of the
whole House, from which his authority is derived and in whose name it
is exercised. Henceforth he sits above all parties. Henceforth he has
no political opinions to bias his rulings from the Chair. So he remains
Speaker — ^being re-elected unanimously at the first meeting of each new
Parliament — until he decides to resign or is removed by death. This
concurrence of both sides in the appointment of Mr. Speaker adds
immensely to the weight of his authority, by making him absolutely
independent of the party conflicts which are waged on the floor of
the House of Commons.
Once only has a Speaker been dismissed on the assembling of
a new Parliament because he was known not to hold the views of
the party which came back from the country in a majority. This
was Charles Manners-Sutton. A Tory himself, he was the nominee
of the Tory Administration in office at the resignation of Charles Abbot
in 1817. The moderate Conservatives and Whigs put forward Charles
William Wynn. He and his brother. Sir Watkin Wynn, who was also
m the House, were known as * Bubble and Squeak,' on account of
the peculiarity of their voices. Indeed, Canning thought the only
objection to Wjom as a candidate for the Chair was that members
might be tempted to address him as 'Mr. Squeaker.' However,
Manners-Sutton was elected by the large majority of 160 ; and in
accordance with precedent he was reappointed to the position after
General Elections in 1819, 1820, 1826, 1830, and 1831. In July 1832,
during the struggle over the great Reform Bill, he intimated his wish
to letire at the close of the Parliament. A vote of thanks for his
services was unanimously passed, on the motion of Lord Althorp, the
Whig Leader of the House, and he was granted by the Crown an annuity
of 4,0002., and one of 3,0002., after his death, to his heir male. But the
Whig Ministers, returned again to power at the General Election which
followed the passing of the Reform Act, were apprehensive that a
new and inexperienced Speaker would be unable to control the first
reformed Parliament, which, it was feared, might consist of discordant
and unruly elements, and they induced Manners-Sutton to consent
to occupy the Chair for some time longer. The Radicals, however,
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822 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Aug.
decided to oppose his re-ekction. Accordingly, at the meeting of the
new Parliament on the 29th of January, 1833, after Manners-Sutton
had been nominated by two Whigs, Lord Morpeth and Sir Francis
Burdett, Edward John Littleton was proposed in opposition by
Joseph Hume, and seconded by Daniel 0*Connell. Littleton did not
desire to have his name submitted for the Chair, but, nevertheless, a
division was taken, and he was rejected by 241 votes to 31, or the
enormous majority of 210. Thereupon Charles Manners-Sutton was
declared elected Speaker unanimously.
When a new FarUament next assembled, on the 19th of February,
1835, the Tories were in office, the Whigs having been summarily
dismissed by William the Fourth in the preceding November ; but,
as the result of the General Election which followed, a majority of
Whigs confronted Sir Robert Peel, Prime Minister, in the House of
Commons, determined to fight him on every issue. Charles Manners-
Sutton was again nominated for the Chair, this time his proposer and
seconder being Tories. That he was a staunch Tory in opinion every-
body was well aware. But he was charged with overt acts of partisan-
ship, despite the principle that as Speaker he was bound to be abso-
lutely impartial. It was said that he had been actively concerned in
the Tory opposition to the reform of Parliament ; that he had, in fact,
tried to constitute an anti-Reform Administration himself ; further,
that he had assisted in the overthrow of the late (Government, and that
had the Tories been successful at the polls he would have been ap-
pointed to high office in Peel's Cabinet. These charges he denied.
But the Whigs as a party now opposed his re-election to the Chair ;
and their nominee, James Abercromby, was carried in a most exciting
division by the narrow majority of 10, or by 316 votes to 306. * Such
a division was never known before in the House of Commons,' writes
Charles GreviUe in his Memoirs. * Much money was won and lost.
Everybody betted. I won 55i.'
No attempt has since been made to depose a Speaker on party
grounds, even when a Qeneral Election has effected a shifting of the
balance of parties in the House of Conmions. On the retirement of
Abercromby in May 1839, the Whigs, being still in office, nominated
Charles Shaw-Lefevre ; the Tories ran Henry (Joulbum, and the
former was elected by a majority of 18, or by 317 votes to 299. The
General Election of 1841 resulted in a change of (Jovemment.
The Melbourne Administration, which elected Shaw-Lefevre to the
Chair, was overthrown at the polls, and the Tories came back with a
large majority. Many of the victors in the electoral contest were
disposed to follow the example set by their opponents in 1835, and
make a party question of the Speakership of the new Parliament. But
their leader and Prime Minister, Sir Robert Peel, refused to countenance
this line of action. * I do not think it necessary,' said he, in a speech
supporting the re-election of Shaw-Lefevre in August 1841, Hhatthe
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1906 'MB. 8PEAEEB' 828
person elected to the Chair, who had ably and oonscientiously performed
his duty, should be displaced because his political opinions are not con-
sonant with those of the majority of the House.* The re-election of
Shaw-Lefevie was, accordingly, unanimous. Peefs wise view of the
Speakership has since prevailed. The continuity of the office has not
been broken since the dismissal of Manners-Suttonin 1836. John Evelyn
Denison was unanimously chosen to succeed Shaw-Lefevre in 1857,
HenryBouverieBrand to succeed Denison in 1872,and Arthur Wellesley
Peel to succeed Brand in 1884. By a curious coincidence the Whigs,
or liberals, have been in office on every occasion that the Speakership
has become vacant by resignation during the past seventy years.
But the Conservatives on their return to power reappointed Denison
in 1866, Brand in 1874, and Peel in 1886.
The circumstances which attended the election of William Court
Gully as Speaker have given both to the principle that the Chair is
above the strife and the prejudices of party, and the precedent of
its occupant's continuity of office, an accession of strength which makes
diem stable and decisive for all time. Mr. Gully had sat in the House as
a Liberal for ten y^ars when, on the retirement of Mr. Speaker Peel in
May 1895, he was nominated for the Chair by the Liberal Government.
The Unionist Opposition proposed Sir Matthew White Ridley, a highly
respected member of their party and a man of long and varied experience
in Parliamentary afiairs. On a division Mr. Gully was elected by the
narrow majority of eleven. The voting was : Gully, 285 ; White
Ridley, 274. It was publicly declared at the time that, as the Unionist
party had disapproved the candidature of Mr. Gully, they held them-
selves free to dismiss him from the Chair should they have a majority in
the next new Parliament. A few weeks later the Liberal Government
was defeated in the House of Commons, and a dissolution followed.
It is the custom to allow the Speaker a walk-over in his constituency at
the General Election. But Mr. Gully's seat at Carlisle was on this
occasion contested, and his Unionist opponent received from Mr.
Arthur Balfour a letter warmly endorsing his candidature and wishing
him success. In his address to the constituents Mr. Gully made no
reference to politics. He had been Speaker of the House of Conmions,
and, therefore, he could have nothing to say to party controversy.
Like his predecessors, he recognised that a Speaker cannot descend
into the rough strife of the electoral battle, not even to canvass the
electors, without impairing the independence and the dignity of the
Chair of the House of Commons. Happily, the contest ended in his
le-election by a substantial majority.
The Unionists came back triumphant from the country. There
was a feeling still in the party, though, indeed, it did not prevail to any
wide extent, that the Speaker of the new Parliament should be chosen
from its ranks. It was pointed out that for sixty years there had not
been a Conservative Speaker — ^Manners-Sutton having been the last —
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824 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Aug.
and, apart altogether from the legitimate ambition of the Confiervatives
to appoint a nominee to the Chair, it was argued that in building up the
body of precedents which guide, if they do not control, the duties of the
Speakership, Conservative wisdom ought to have its proper share, if
these precedents are truly to reflect the general opinion of the House.
But the influence of tradition and practice in the House of Conunons
was too powerful to be overborne by those who desired that the new
Speaker should be chosen from the Unionist ranks. At the first meet-
ing of the new Parliament, in August 1895, Mr. Gully was unanimously
re-elected to the Chair.
On his election to the Chair the Speaker forfeits — actually, though
perhaps not theoretically — ^his rights as the representative of a con-
stituency in the House. He is practically disqualified from speaking in
the debates and voting in the divisions. The constituency which he
represents is, therefore, in a sense disfranchised. But there is no
record of a constituency ever having objected to its representative
accepting the Speakership. No doubt it feels there is compensation
in the distinction which it acquires by returning the president of the
House of Commons. Formerly it was customary for the Speaker to join
in the debates and divisions when the House was in Conmiittee and he,
of course, had left the Chair. In Committee on the Bill for the Union
of Great Britain and Ireland Mr. Speaker Addington, on the 12th of
February, 1799, declared that while he was in favour of the plan, he was
strongly opposed to the proposals of amelioration with which Pitt was
disposed to accompany it. If it were a question, he said, between the
re-enactment of all the Popery laws or the Union, coupled with
Catholic emancipation, as a means for the pacification of Ireland,
he would prefer the repressive measures of old. Again, during the
Conmiittee stage of the Bill introduced by Henry Grattan, in 1813, to
quaUfy Roman CathoUcs for election as members of Parliament, an
amendment to omit the vital words, ' to sit and vote in either House of
Parliament,' was moved by Mr. Speaker Abbot (strongly opposed, like
Addington, to the removal of the CathoUc disabilities), and having been
carried by the narrow majority of four votes was, of course, fatal to
the measure.
Manners-Sutton also exercised his right to speak in Committee
three times on such highly controversial questions as CathoUc Emanci-
pation and the claims of Dissenters to be admitted to the Universities,
to both of which he, like his predecessors in the Chair, answered an
uncompromising * No.' But so high has the Chair of the House of
Commons in recent times been lifted above the conflicts of party
politics that partisanship so assertive and aggressive would not now
be tolerated in the Speaker. On the last two occasions that a Speaker
interested himself in proceedings in Conmiittee the questions at issue
had no relation whatever to party politics. In 1856 Shaw-Lefevre spoke
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1906 'MB. SPEAKER' 826
in defence of the Board of Trustees of the British Museum, of which he
was a member ; and in 1870 Evelyn Denison voted for a proposal
to exempt horses employed on farms from license duty. As this right
has not been exercised for thirty-five years, it is probable that never
again will a Speaker speak or vote in Committee. Indeed, Mr.
Speaker Gully directed that his name should not appear in the
printed lists with which the clerks in the division lobbies are fur-
nished for the purpose of recording the names of members and how
they voted. The only vote which a Speaker now gives is a casting-
vote, should the numbers on each side in a division be equal.
What are the qualities, then, which make a successful president of
the representative Chamber ? ' Gk) and assemble yourselves together,
and elect one, a discreet, wise, and learned man, to be your Speaker.'
Such were the words which the Lord Chancellor in the reign of Eliza-
beth addressed to a new House of Commons. The order in which the
qualities deemed essential for the Speaker are arranged is not without
its significance. Discretion comes first. It might also be given the
second place and the third. Marked ability is by no means indispens-
able in a Speaker, for intellectually his work is not difficult. But
nndoTibtedly in the twentieth century, as in the sixteenth, the faculty
whicli is of the highest importance in the art of the Speakership is
circamspection, sagacity, prudence.
John Evelyn Denison had sat in the House for more than thirty
years when, in 1857, he was chosen Speaker. Yet naturally he was
awed by the responsibilities of the Chair. In such a position,
about which the light of publicity beats as fiercely as around the
Throne, timorousness or irresolution would be fatal. To Denison the
prospect was not made less formidable by the reply which he got
from his predecessor on inquiring whether there was anyone to whom
he could go for advice and assistance on trying occasions. ' No one,'
said Shaw-Lefevre ; * you must learn to rely entirely upon yourself.*
' And,' proceeds Denison in his Diary^ ' I found this to be very true.
Sometimes a friend would hasten to the Chair and offer advice. I
must say, it was for the most part lucky I did not follow the advice.
I spent the first few years of my Speakership like the captain of a
steamer on the Thames, standing on the paddle-box, ever on the
look-out for shocks and collisions.' But these ^ shocks and collisions ' are
rarely uncommon or unfamiliar. The House of Commons has not
had a life and growth of several centuries without providing an abund-
ance of precepts and examples for the guidance of its Speaker. Gtene-
rally speaking, whatever occurs in the House of Conmions has happened
there before. Almost every contingency that can possibly arise has
had its antecedent parallel, and is, accordingly , covered by a precedent,
and a Speaker cannot go far astray in a decision if he be thoroughly
acquainted with the forms and procedure of the House and the
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826 THE NINETEENTH CENTUB7 Aug.
rulings of his predeoessors, which hedge his course and save him from
difficulty and uncertainty. Nor is it the fact that there is no one to
whom he can go for advice to meet an approaching emergency. It is
the custom for members to give the Speaker private notice of questions
on points of order ; unless, of course, such as arise unexpectedly in
debate ; and for aid in the decision of these oases the Speaker has the
clerks who sit at the table below him to refer to, if necessary, with
regard to custom and procedure, and a counsel to direct him on
points of law. ^ I used to study the business of the day carefully every
morning,' says Denison, *and consider what questions could arise
upon it. Upon these questions I prepared myself by referring to the
rules or, if needful, to precedents.' It is also the practice, though
Denison makes no mention of it, for the clerks at the table to
have an audience with the Speaker every day before the House meets,
to draw his attention to any points of order likely to arise which the
Speaker might be called upon to settle, and to confer generally on the
business of the day. Therefore, it is an exceedingly rare experience
for the Speaker to be brought suddenly face to face with an absolutely
unprecedented situation. In such a difficulty he has the immense
advantage of being able, as the supreme authority in the House, to
impose his will unquestioned on aU concerned, even should he have
gone beyond his exact functions as the ruler of debate, the preserver
of order, the guardian of the rights of members.
But it must not be supposed that smooth and easy is the way of
the president of the House of Conmions. The whole art of the Speaker-
ship does not consist in presenting a dignified, ceremonial figure, in wig
and gown, on a carved and canopied chair, and having a mastery of the
technicalities of procedure. The situation that tests most severely the
mettie of the Speaker is one that not infrequently arises in the House of
Commons, when he is expected to stand forth on the dais of the Chair
the one calm, serious, stem, and impartial personality, looming above
the exciting party conffict of noise and recrimination which surges on
the benches below. It is not cleverness that is then the indispensable
quality in a Speaker. More to the purpose, for the controlling and the
moderating of the passions of a popular assembly, are the superficial
gifts of an impressive presence, an air of authority, a ready tongue,
and a resonant voice. Still, the control of the House in such an
emergency will depend not so much upon the appearance, the tempera-
ment, the elocution of Mr. Speaker, as upon the measure of the
confidence and respect of members which he has previously won by
more sterling qualities ; and the qualities upon which the trust of the
House of Commons in its Speaker reposes most securely and abidingly
are strength of character, fairness of mind, urbanity of temper, or a
combination of tactful firmness with strict impartiality.
No doubt it is difficult for the Speaker to appear impartial at
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1905 'MB. SPEAKER' 827
all moments and to all sections of the House. Some passing feeling of
soreness mU inevitabl7 be aroused amongst members censured, or
placed at a disadvantage in party engagements, by decisions of the
Chair. But if the Speaker has not impressed the House generally
with his discretion and judgment, with confidence in the impartiality
of his rulings, with the conviction that he regards himself as the
guardian of the House, and not the instrument of the party leaders
in occupation of tiie Treasury Bench, that feeling of soreness will
not be, as it ou^t to be, brief and transient, and the Speaker will
find on a crucial occasion that the Assembly has slipped from his
ccmtrol.
Moreover, the Speaker must not be too stem in action or de-
meanour. I have witnessed many violent scenes in the House of
Commons, and I have invariably noticed that, in a clash of will and
tempers, tactful expostulation and entreaty by the Chair is most potent
in the restoration of order. Should it be necessary to invoke punitive
measures, there must be a happy blending of urbanity in the manner
with rigorousness in the deed. Members are not disposed to
forget that, after all, the Speaker is but the servant of the House.
There was once a very proud and haughty Speaker, Sir Edward
Seymour by name, in the reign of Charles the Second. *' You are
too big for the Chair, and for us,' said a member smarting under
a reprimand or a ruling. ^ For you, that think yourself one of the
governors of the world, to be our servant is incongruous.* The
^)eaker must not be too fastidious, or impatient with the
commonplace or the eccentric. He should have a genial tolerance
of the extravagant in personality and character, which is bound
to appear in an assembly of 670 men, chosen from all classes and
all parts of the kingdom, and which, indeed, makes the House of
Commons a place of infinite interest. Moreover, the House will
not tolerate the despot or the master in an officer of its own
creation. Indeed, it is a mistake to suppose that the Speaker wields
unfettered authority, that his individual will is law in the House of
Commons. It is true that he has vast controlling powers, and that his
ruKngs on points of order and procedure are final. But the will which
he imposes upon the House is not his own : it is the law of the House
itself, for everything he does must be in accordance with rule and
precedent. The initiative in most things lies in the House. The
Speaker acts only when he is called upon to do so by a member of
the House. He cannot leave the Chair, even at the close of the
sitting, witiiout a motion by a Minister. In dealing with a contu-
macious member who flouts his authority all he can do is to ' name '
him. He simply says: 'I name Mr. Blank as disregarding the
authority of the Chair.' The punishment — suspension for a period
from the service of the House — must be moved by the leading Minister,
and must be endorsed by a majority.
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828 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Aug.
i Not only are the rules of order, on the whole, adequate for the
purposes for which they were framed, but the Chair, happily, is re^utled
with a respect so profound as to be akin almost to reverence and
worship. Mr. Speaker himself, as he walks solemnly up the floor at
the opening of every sitting, makes three low obeisances to the Chair.
This custom originated when the House of Commons first met in
St. Stephen's Chapel — ^its place of assembly until the fire of 1834 —
and was intended as a mark of respect for the altar, which at the time
stood behind the Chair. But now the object of these couchings or
lowly bendings is undoubtedly the carved oak seat of Mr. Speaker —
prominent object that it is on its diws — and the ceremony inspires
members susceptible to the historic traditions of the House, imme-
morial and splendid, with a sort of awe of the Chair. More than that,
the Chair is exalted by the written rules of the House as well as by
tradition and etiquette. One of the rules enjoins that a member
'must enter and leave the House with decorum,' which has been
interpreted to mean, not only that he must uncover, but that he should
' make an obeisance to the Chair ' when passing to or from his place.
' The first time,' sajrs Gladstone, in a note written towards the end of
his life, ' that business required me to go to the arm of the Chair to say
something to the Speaker, Manners-Sutton — the first of seven whose
subject I have been, who was something of a Eeate ' — ^his master at
Eton, by whom he had been flogged — ' I remember the revival in me
bodily of the frame of mind in which the schoolboy stands before his
master.' One result of all this awe and reverence is that every occupant
of the Chair comes in time to be regarded as Speaker by right divine,
and to command the admiration and, indeed, the loyalty of the House.
At his resignation — as anyone will see who reads the high-sounding
eulogies which in accordance with custom are then delivered — ^the
House kneels at his feet and offers him incense, and seems to wonder
that so mighty a personage should have condescended to preside over
its deliberations.
This is, of course, as it should be. Nothing contributes so much
to the authority of the Chair as the conviction among members that
in the Speaker they have a being of awful wrath and thundering
majesty. Disraeli declared of Denison that even ' the rustle of his
robes,' as he rose to rebuke a breach of order, was sufficient to awe the
unruly member into submission. One great and supreme result of
this feeling is the implicit obedience to the rulings of the Chair. It is
but natural that members who are the victims should occasionally
chafe against them, and for the moment feel aggrieved. But such
is the Ugh dignity of the Chair, and the confidence in the impar-
tiality of the Speaker, that the ultimate verdict of calm consideration
is that these decisions are invariably just and impartial.
But suppose a Speaker, who, of course, puts his own interpretation
on precedents and Standing Orders, ultimately finds that he has made
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1905 'MB, SPEAKER' 829
a wrong ruling, what ought he to do in the way of rectifying it ?
Thomas Moore recoids in his IHary an extraordinary discussion on
this point with Mr. Speaker Manners-Sutton after dinner one evening
in 1829 at the Speaker's house. ' Dwelt much on the advantages of
humbug/ writes Moore in reference to Manners-Sutton ; * of a man
knowing how to take care of his reputation, and to keep from being
found ouiy so as always to pass for cleverer than he is.' Moore sajrs
he argued that such a policy denoted a wise man, not an impostor.
If by that line of policy a man induced his fellow-men to give him
credit for being cleverer than he really was, the fault could not be
his, so long as he did not himself advance any claims to this credit.
The moment he pretended to be what he was not, then began
humbug, but not sooner. The poet then goes on :
He 8tiQ pushed his point, playfully, but pertinaciously, and in illustration of
what he meant put the following case : ' Suppose a Speaker rather new to his
office, and a question brought into discussion before him which parties are
equally divided upon, and which he sees will run to very inconvenient lengths
if not instantly decided. Well, though entirely ignorant on the subject, he
assumes an air of authority and gives his decision, which sets the matter at
rest. On going home he finds that he has decided quite wrongly ; and then,
without making any further fuss about the business, he quietly goes and alters
the entry on the Journals.*
Moore again insisted that wisdom, and not humbug, was the charac-
teristic of such an action. ' To his supposed case all I had to answer,'
the poet writes, ' was that I still thought the man a wise one, and no
humbug ; by his resolution in a moment of difficulty he prevented
a present mischief, and by his withdrawal of a wrong precedent
averted a future one.'
There are only two instances of the action of a Speaker being
made the subject of a motion of censure, followed by a division. In
neither case, however, was the motion carried. On the 11th of July,
1879, Charles Stewart Pamell moved a vote of censure on Mr. Speaker
Brand on the ground that he had exceeded his duty in directing the
clerks at the table to take notes of the speeches of the Nationalist
members, then inaugurating their poUcy of obstructing the proceedings
of the House. The motion was lost by 421 votes to 29, or a majority
of 392, one of the largest recorded in the history of Parliament. The
Irish members were also the movers of the other vote of censure on
the Speaker. On the 20th of March, 1902, Mr. Chamberlain, the
Colonial Secretary, speaking in reference to the then concluding
stages of the South African War, quoted a saying of Vilonel, the Boer
general, that the enemies of South Africa were those who were con-
tinuing a hopeless struggle. ^ He is a traitor,' interjected Mr. John
Dillon ; and Mr. Chamberlain retorted, ' The hon. gentleman is a good
judge of traitors.' The Member for East Mayo appealed to the Chair
whether the expression of the Colonial Secretary was not unparlia-
mentary. * I deprecate interruptions and retorts/ replied Mr. Speaker
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880 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Aug.
Qully, ' and if the hon. gentleman had not himself interrupted the
right hon. gentleman, he would not have been subjected to a retort.*
' Then I desire to say that the right hon. gentleman is a damned liar,'
exclaimed Mr. Dillon. The Member for East Mayo was thereupon
' named ' by the Speaker, and, on the motion of Mr. Arthur Balfour,
was suspended from the service of the House. On the following
May 7th, Mr. J. J. Mooney, a member of the Irish FarUamentary
party, moved that the Speaker ought to have -ruled that the words
applied by the Colonial Secretary to Mr. Dillon were unparliamentary,
and accordingly have directed Mr. Chamberlain to withdraw them.
On a division the action of the Chair was supported by 398 votes to 63,
or a majority of 335.
• 3 8 • • • • •
But if the duties of the Speakership are arduous, its dignity is
high and its emoluments handsome. In former times the Speaker
was paid a salary of 61. a day, and a fee of 5L on every private Bill.
This fluctuating income was replaced by a fixed salary of 6,00(M.
a year on the election of Henry Addington to the Chair in 1789. It
was also decided at the same time that a sum of 1,000{. equipment
money was to be given to the Speaker on his first appointment.
Charles Abbot states in his Diary that he paid his predecessor in
the Chair, Freeman-Mitford, 1,0602. for the state coach — built in
1701, and still in existence — 1,000/. for wine, and 500i. for house
furniture. The official residence of the Speaker then adjoined, as
now, the House of Commons. We get an interesting glimpse of the
old residence, with its gardens by the Thames, in Thomas Moore's
DicMry under date the 19th of May, 1829, the day when Daniel
O'Connell made his notable appearance at the Bar of the House to
claim the seat for Clare which was denied him as a Roman Catholic :
Went to the House of Commons early, having begged Mr. Speaker
yesterday to put me on the list for under the gallery. An immense crowd in
the lobby, Irish agitators, &c. ; got impatient and went round to Mr. Speaker,
who sent the train-bearer to accompany me to the lobby, and, after some little
difficulty, I got in. The House enormously full. 0*Connell*8 speech good
and judicious. Sent for by Mrs. Manners- Sutton at seven o'clock to have some
dinner; none but herself and daughters, Mr. Lockwood, and Mr. Sutton.
Amused to see her in aU her state, the same hearty, lively Irishwoman stilL
Walked with her in the garden ; the moonlight on the river, the boats gliding
along it, the towers of Lambeth rising on the opposite bank, the lights of
Westminster Bridge gleaming on the left ; and then, when one turned round to
the House, that beautiful Gothic structure, illuminated from within, and at
that moment containing within it the council of the nation — all was most
picturesque and striking.
After the fire of 1834, which destroyed the Speaker's house, with
the Houses of ParLament, a residence was provided for the Speaker
in Eaton Square. The present house, a conspicuous wing of the
Palace of Westminster, with its carved stonework and Gothic windows.
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1906 'MB, SPEAKER' 881
extending from the Clock Tower to the river, close to Westminster
Bridge, was first occupied by John Evelyn Denison in 1857. It is
furnished by the State, and the Speaker enjojrs it free of rent, rates,
taxes, coal and Ught. In the reign of WilUam the Fourth the salary
of the Chair was reduced from 6,000/. to 5,000Z., to be paid, free of
aU taxes, out of the ConsoUdated Fund ; but for the first time an
official secretary, with a salary of 500/., was attached to the office.
The ancient allowance of 1,000Z. as equipment money upon first
appointment still continues. There are also some quaint yet pleasant
Utile perquisites attaching to the office. The Master of the Buck-
hounds sends the Speaker every year a buck and a doe from the royal
preserves at Windsor; and from the Clothworkers' Company of
London comes, as a Christmas present, a generous width of the best
broadcloth.
The Speaker gives several official entertainments during the
Parliamentary Session. There are dinners to the Ministers, to the
leaders of the Opposition, and to private members. According to
long-estabhshed custom, a member who accepts an invitation to dine
with Mr. Speaker is required to appear either in uniform or Court
dress. In the House of Commons, Joseph Hume made frequent
attacks on a custom which, as he objected to wear Court dress,
shut him out from the pleasure of sitting at table with Mr.
Speaker. Cobden, during his twenty-four years in the House of
Commons, from 1841 to 1865, felt himself constrained for the same
leason to refuse the Speaker's invitations to dinner. John Bright
was another distinguished member of the House who protested against
this restriction as to the suitable dress in which to appear at the
Speaker's table. But the rule is still rigidly enforced. The only
departure from it was made by Mr. Speaker Peel, during the short
Liberal Parliament of 1895, when he formed a separate dinner party
of the Labour members of the House, and told them they might
come without any restriction as to dress ; but that precedent, at least,
has not once been followed ^t Westminster. The Speaker is attired
at these functions in a black velvet Court suit, knee-breeches with
aUk stockings, a steel-handled sword by his side, and lace ruffies
round his neck and wrists. The table and huge sideboards in the
oak-puielled rooms are spread with magnificent old plate, and the
walls hung with portraits of many famous ' First Commoners.' Mr.
Speaker was created ' First Commoner of the Realm ' by an Act of
the reign of William and Mary, and as such he has precedence of all
the Commonalty, that mighty crowd outside the peerage.
The Speaker's Chair has become one of the highest prizes of political
ambition. For honour and dignity, in the pubUc eye the office ranks
next, perhaps, to that of the Prime Minister. Spencer Compton, who
was Speaker during the entire reign of George the First, vacated the
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832 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Aug.
Chair to become the Prime Minister of Gteorge the Second. Henry
Addington, after being Speaker for twelve years, was called from the
Chair by George the Third, in 1801, to form an Administration in
succession to William Pitt, who resigned owing to the King's rooted
objection to CathoUc Emancipation. Probably the only position for
which the Speakership would be relinquished to-day is that of Prime
Minister. Sir John Freeman-Mitford, who followed Addington in the
Chair, resigned after a year's service in order to become Lord Chan-
cellor of Ireland ; but he did so only at the earnest solicitation of the
King and the solatium of a salary of 10,0(X)i. per year and a peerage
as Lord Redesdale. The Lord Chancellorship of Ireland is a high
and honourable position, but it is unlikely that nowadays anyone
would sacrifice for it the Speakership of the House of Commons.
Charles Abbot resigned the Chief Secretaryship for Ireland — ^a post
of greater poUtical importance than that of the Lord Chancellor-
ship— ^in order to succeed Freeman-Mitford as Speaker in 1802. Abbot
refused the offer of a Secretaryship of State from Perceval, the Prime
Minister, in 1809 during his occupancy of the Chair ; and Mr. Speaker
Manners-Sutton could have been Home Secretary in the Adminis-
tration formed in 1827 by Canning.
So eagerly is the position sought for that Ministers have been
willing to give up their portfolios for the Speaker's Chair. Spring
Rice, Chancellor of the Exchequer of the Melbourne Administration,
had his heart set on that coveted office. He was in the running for
the Speakership in 1835, when James Abercromby was elected. In
1838 Abercromby intimated to Melbourne his intention to resign —
throwing a curious sidelight on the relations at the time between
Mr. Speaker and the Treasury Bench — ^because from the attitude of
Lord John Russell, the Leader of the House, he felt he no longer
possessed that degree of Ministerial confidence which, in his opinion,
was essential to the due conduct of public business and the main-
tenance of the authority of the Chair. The Prime Minister induced
Abercromby to postpone his resignation, and at the same time
satisfied the renewed pretensions of his Chancellor of the Exchequer
with the promise that he should be the Government candidate for the
Chair whenever it became vacant. But when Abercromby retired
in the following year it was found that Spring Rice was not acceptable
to the Radicals, and Shaw-Lefevre was selected in order to maintain
the unity of the party and preserve the Liberal succession to the
Chair. Again, on the resignation of Arthur Wellesley Peel in 1895,
Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman was willing to lay down his port-
folio as Secretary for War in the then Liberal Grovemment for the
object of his ambition — ^the Speakership ; and it is said that it was
reluctantly he yielded to the urgent representations of his colleagues
that the party could ill spare his services.
Still, this most exalted position has, as a rule, fallen to unofficial
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1906 'MR. SPEAKEB' 338
members, or to members who have held subordinate Ministerial
appointments. Denison, in the opening passages of his Diary, states
that on the 8th of April, 1857, he was seated in his library at
Ossington when the letters were brought in, and among them was
the following :— ' 94 Piccadilly, the 7th of April, 1857. My dear
Denison, — We wish to be allowed to propose you for the Speaker-
ship of the House of Commons. Will you agree ? — Yours sincerely,
Palmbbston.' Denison says the proposal took him by surprise.
'Thou^,' he writes, 'I had attended of late years to several
branches of the private business, and had taken more part in the
pubUc business of the House of Commons, I had never made the
duties of the Chair my special study.' William Court Gully had been
ten years in Parliament before his elevation to the Speaker's Chair,
but he was one of that large, modest band of ' silent members ' who,
confining themselves to voting on the issues in the division lobbies,
are unknown in debate, and, consequently, are never mentioned in
the papers. Moreover, being a busy lawyer, Mr. Gully was indif-
ferent to the routine work of the House, and had no experience
in serving on Committees upstairs, which is supposed to be the best
of all trainings for the Speakership. Indeed, the Chair may be
regarded as the one great prize that is open to the occupants of the
back as well as the front benches who possess the necessary
physical as well as mental quaUties. Personal appearance is un-
doubtedly a powerful factor in the selection of candidates. This
mdudes the possession of clear vision. A Speaker with spectacles
would look incongruous in an assembly where the competition to catch
his eye is so keen.
The term of office of Mr. Speaker is usually short. Arthur Onslow,
who was elected in 1726, continued in possession of the Chair for
thirty-five years, through five successive ParUaments, apparently
without ruffling a hair of his wig. So long an occupancy is now well-
nigh impossible. For one thing, the duties of Mr. Speaker are physi-
cally more responsible and irksome. The Sessions are longer, the
sittings of the House more protracted, and the fatigue of the prolonged
and often tedious hours in the Chair must be most severe mentally and
physically. Besides, there has grown up of late a preference for a cer-
tain maturity of age in the Speaker. Arthur Onslow was only thirty-six
when he was called to the office. Henry Addington, who occupied
the Speaker's Chair at the opening of tiie nineteenth century, was
thirty-two only on his appointment. William Court Gully, who was
in possession of the Chair at the opening of the twentieth century,
had passed his sixtieth year on his election. The occupancy of the
office must be comparatively brief if men are appointed to it only
when their heads are grey or bald. Of the last three Speakers, Henry
Vol. LVin— No. 342 Z
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884 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Aug.
Bouveiie Brand sat for twelve jrears, Arthur Wellesley Peel eleven
years, and William Court Gully ten years.
The Speaker receives a pension of 4,0002. a year. John Evelyn
Denison, it is interesting to note, refused this retiring allowance.
' Though without any pretensions to wealth/ he wrote to Gladstone,
the Prime Minister, ' I have a private fortune which will suffice, and
for the few years of life that remain to me I should be happier in
feeling that I am not a burden to my fellow-countrymen.* He retired
in February 1872, and died, without heir, in March 1873. A peerage
is also conferred on the Speaker when he resigns the Chair. This
was not the custom in the eighteenth century. When Mr. Speaker
Arthur Onslow resigned the Chair in 1761, after his long service of
thirty-five years, George the Third, in reply to the address of the
Commons to confer on Onslow ^ some signal mark of honour,' gave
him a pension of 3,0007. a year for the lives of himself and his son,
but no peerage. The custom began in the nineteenth century with
Charles Abbot, who on retiring in 1817 was made Baron Colchester.
Since then every Speaker has been ' called to the House of Lords ' —
Manners-Sutton as Lord Canterbury, Abercromby as Lord Dun-
fermline, Shaw-Lefevre as Lord Eversley, Denison as Lord Ossington,
Brand as Lord Hampden, and Peel as Lord Peel. But he is Speaker
no longer ; another presides in his place ; and what a shadowy personage
he seems, as a Lord, compared with the conspicuousness and the
resounding fame that were his in the glorious years when he filled
with pomp and dignity the Chair of the House of Commons ! Still,
there remains to him the happy thought expressed by Dryden, which
consoles for the transitoriness of human honours —
Not Heaven itself upon the past has power,
That which has been, has been, and I have bad my hour.
Michael MacDonaoh.
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1906
REDISTRIBUTION
Half a century ago, or thereabouts, the House of Commons was
agitated, not for the first time or the last, by a fiscal question. Mr.
Gladstone, as Chancellor of the Exchequer, had proposed to take off
the duty on paper. Mr. Disraeli was for giving precedence to the
duty on tea. The Liberal majority was small, and a critical division
was impending. As the Prime Minister, Lord Palmerston, walked
down to the House, a stray humourist accosted him with the remark,
* Tea, and turn out to-night, my Lord.* ' Oh, no,' said the Premier
sweetly, ^ paper and stationery.' And so it proved. Redistribution
is not a lively process, and in the scale of amusements it ranks low.
But it has one great advantage ; it takes time, so that while Ministers
aie redistributing the seats of others, they necessarily retain their
own. To the redistribution of offices frequent experience has accus-
tomed them. But this may involve by-elections, and, therefore, has its
drawbacks for a Ifinister who is not absolutely certain that he has the
people behind him. A Redistribution Resolution (I apologise for the
horrible cacophony) leads to nothing worse than a Continuance in
Office Bill, which would occupy the one more possible session of this
Khaki Parliament.
Liberals, who love precedents, especially when they are in opposi-
tion, are unable to find one for a Redistribution Bill without a Reform
BiQ. Except the original Reform Bill of 1832, which, so far as it
went, was a thorough piece of work, the only redistribution worthy of
the name was accomplished in 1885, just twenty years ago. There
are two main features of that scheme which must strike everybody at
once. It was passed by consent, and it did not touch the representa-
tion of Ireland. Its origin was due to a conflict between the two
Houses. The Lords refused to pass the County Franchise Bill until
they knew how seats were to be redistributed. The Government
refused to introduce a Seats Bill until the Franchise Bill had been
passed. As a way out of the deadlock, Mr. Gladstone and Sir Charles
Bilke submitted their proposals to Lord Salisbury and Sir Stafford
Northcote. The Seats Bill was therefore a joint measure, and Parlia-
ment could not seriously alter it without upsetting the compromise.
In these circumstances it went through with ease, and even a change
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of Government did not disturb its progress. Lord SaUsbory was, if
possible, less anxious than Mr. Gladstone to diminish the number of
Mr. Pamell's future following, and Ireland, though proportionately
over-represented, was left in the same Parliamentary position which
she had occupied since the Union of 1800. By the present scheme
she loses twenty-two seats, which are given to Great Britain in the
ratio of seventeen to England, four to Scotland, and one to Wales.
There is, of course, no prospect of consent for this or any other arrange-
ment. The Leader of the Opposition, speaking on behalf of the
Liberal party, has denied the moral competence of the Gk)vemment to
propose any such legislation at all. The Liberal case is that the
Grovemment should at once dissolve because the by-elections show
that they no longer represent the country. This is, of course, an
argument very much in favour with Oppositions, and apt to be treated
contemptuously by those in power. All Governments lose seats,
and accurate numerical inferences cannot be drawn even from a
series of isolated contests. The constitutional theory is that the
House of Commons represents the people, and that so long as a Govern-
ment commands a majority there, it is entitled to remain in office, at
least for six years. I cannot feel the smallest sympathy with those
Liberals who complain that they were deceived in 1900 by Mr. Balfour's
and Mr. Chamberlain's assurances that those who voted for the Grovem-
ment were only voting against the Boers. The law is sometimes said
to be designed for the protection of fools. But there are Umits to the
folly which can be protected, and the constitution only helps those
who help themselves. It was the crudest form of the confidence
trick ever played, and many a hearty laugh must the distinguished
accomplices have enjoyed over the folly of their dupes. Still, I
suppose there are Umits set by common sense to the pedantry of
Uteral constitutionalism. When a campaign against Free Trade ia
secretly assisted, and openly condoned, by the King's Ministers ;
when those Ministers obstinately refuse to let the nation decide whether
Free Trade shall be abandoned or not ; when seat after seat is lost
by Protectionist candidates, it strains the letter of the law for the
Grovemment to proceed with a measure of cardinal importance which
must occupy months of Parliamentary time. Mr. Balfour is often
charged with being * too jolly clever by half.' His opponents in the
House of Commons have escaped a similar imputation, and their
conduct in moving or not moving, withdrawing and replacing, votea
of censure is marked by more rectitude than wisdom. That if a pair
of Mr. Gladstone's old trousers could have been laid upon the Front
Opposition Bench the Grovemment would have been out two years
ago, is an opinion which I have heard expressed by persons far better
acquainted with Parliamentary procedure than myself.
The argument against diminishing Irish representation is double-
edged. In 1893 Unionists maintained that the Act of Union was a
treaty which Parliament had no moral right to alter without the
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assent of England. Home Rulers replied, borrowing a phrase from
Mr. Bright, that it was like any other Act which ParUament had passed
and Parliament could repeal. Now, I imagine, the position is reversed.
Conservatiyes will say, and Liberals will deny, that the Act of Union
can be modified without the consent of Ireland. It never has been
yet, for the majority of Irish members voted in favour of disesta-
blishing the Irish Church. In the Queen's Speech of 1886 the Act of
Union was described as a ' fundamental law.' The only fundamental
law in the British Constitution is the omnipotence of ParUament, and
it seems to me now, as it seemed in 1893, idle to pretend that any
Umits can be set upon its powers without a revolution, except by
itself. The question of expediency is another matter. In 1885 both
Engliflh parties wished to concihate the Irish vote. In 1905 they
both desire to be rid of the Irish incubus. But the loss of twenty,
or even thirty, Irish seats would not very materially lessen the value
of Irish support, or the danger of Irish interference. On abstract
grounds of principle it is hard to see why England should be under-
represented, which is what the over-representation of Ireland means.
Next to Ireland, the most salient feature of the Resolution is its
timidity. Thenumberof small boroughs disfranchisedisabsurdlyinade-
quate. In 1885 the minimum of population was fixedatfifteen thousand,
which was much too low. It is now raised to 18,500, which is utterly
futile, except that it will punish the city of Durham for returning
Mr. Arthur Elliot. A Redistribution Bill which did not disfranchise
Rochester, Salisbury, Taunton, Windsor, Canterbury, or Shrewsbury,
and which gave Shrewsbury the same weight in the House of Commons
as East Ham, would be ridiculous, and to call it gerrymandering
would be an mimerited insult to the memory of the late Governor
Clerry. The disfranchisement of a borough in a Redistribution Bill
does not, I need hardly say, deprive anyone of a vote. It only follows
the principle of * one vote, one value,' and the electors of the scheduled
town are put on the list for their county division. The objection to this
sort of disfranchisement is purely Parliamentary, for every seat taken
from a Ministerial Member is a vote given to the Opposition, and Mr.
Oerald Balfour, the framer of the scheme, may well congratulate
himself upon the fewness of the opportunities he has given for ratting.
When Lord John Russell, in 1831, read out a Ust of the boroughs
placed in Schedule A for total disfranchisement, the Tories laughed
derisively, feeling that such a destructive Bill could never pass.
They were wrong, for in those days even boroughmongers, like Lord
Radnor, were such enthusiastic Whigs that they would return members
to vote for the disfranchisement of their own boroughs. But the
President of the Local Grovemment Board has prudently refrained
from trusting the fortunes of the Cabinet to the chances of poUtical
virtue. There is not much complaint to be made of the new London
boroughs, or of the additional members which old boroughs receive.
A stronger Government might have seized the opportunity to reduce
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the numbers of the House, which are much too large for practical
efficiency. A weak Government clutching at straws could hardly be
expected to take so bold a course, and the Opposition are not likely to
press it. Their obvious points of attack are Ireland and the small
boroughs.
Apart, however, from the merits of the scheme there is a good
deal to be said about the manner in which it has been brought forward.
The subject has been discussed for years, and only cynics were capable
of suggesting that it had been dropped by general agreement when
Mr. Kimber became Sir Henry. Even if Sir Henry Kimber were a
peer, which he is not yet, there would be anomalies in our electoral
system, and, indeed, that eminent constitutionalist, unless I am
grievously mistaken, would have dealt in a much less merciful spirit
with the smaller boroughs. A paragraph in the King's Speech pro-
mised what was generally understood to be a Bill. That was in
February, and not till the 10th of July did the Prime Minister give
notice of his Resolution. Why was a Resolution needed ? There
must be a Bill, and everything said on the Resolution could have been
said again on that. It is said that there must be a Boundary Com-
mission, and that Parliamentary Commissions require Parliamentary
sanction. There were Boundary Commissioners in 1886, but no
Kesolutions, and they could have been appointed as soon as the Bill
had been read a second time, or before. Mr. Disraeli proposed his
Reform Bill of 1867 by Resolutions. But he very soon had to with-
draw them, although the Session was young, and they would have
been immediately followed by legislation. Now there can be no Bill
before next year, and the real object seems to have been a declaration
by the House of Conmions that it should not be dissolved before
November 1906. For after the Bill has passed there must be new
registers, and even if they were brought into force earlier than usual,
they could hardly be ready before the end of October. Liberals will
naturally argue that a Gk)vemment which has exhausted its com-
mission, and of which the electors appear anxious to get rid, has no
moral right to tamper with the constituencies under guise of removing
representative anomalies, and furthermore that the proposed Bill
merely tinkers with the subject, leaving flagrant irregularities un-
checked. To this double contention there will be a double response.
In the first place. Ministers will say that a Seats Bill involves an
inmiediate dissolution, and, therefore, cannot be brought in at the
beginning of a Parliament. In the second place they will point to
the precedent of 1886 as a justification for dealing tenderly with
small constituencies. On the face of it, if we set the case of Ireland
aside, the scheme is fair enough between Conservatives and Liberals.
Nobody can complain of applying the rules of arithmetic to the
principle of population. Redistribution is due, and the Liberal
party may well be thankful if they are reUeved from the necessity of
dealing with it.
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1906 REDISTRIBUTION 889,
The difficulties are, of course, great, though Mr. Grerald Balfour
has reduced them to the lowest point. Even if every member for a
threatened borough or division voted against the Government the
Ministerial majority would not be dangerously impaired. On the
other hand, to pass the numerous and compUcated clauses of a Redis-
tribution Bill without the consent of both sides is a task never yet on
a large scale performed, and to gag such a Bill would be almost a
revolutionary proceeding. Hitherto redistribution has always been
accompanied by reform, and Liberals do not admit that no further
reform is required. I almost hesitate to write the words, ' one man,
one vote,' so hackneyed did they in old days become. But what
can be said in favour of a system which leaves towns to be represented
by residents, and floods counties with strangers never seen there
except in the polling-booths at election times ? It is notorious that
these out-voters, who all vote elsewhere, turned the scale in the
Eingswinford Division of Staffordshire, and saved the seat for the
Government. Conservatives do not defend the ownership franchise on
its merits. They have always admitted the rule of ' one man, one
vote,' merely stipulating that it should be accompanied by ' one vote,
one value,' which means equal electoral districts. Now that is just what
the Redistribution Bill aims, however imperfectly, at providing, and
though the aim will certainly not be fulfilled, the Grovemment cannot
plead the deficiencies of their own measure as an excuse for not
carrying their own principle into effect. Then there is registration.
Thousands of working men are deprived of votes because they never
stay long enough in one place to get on the register. A nominal period
of a year becomes, in practice, more like two, and is quite preposterously
long. The last Liberal GrOvemment proposed in 1894 to substitute
three months for twelve. Mr. Balfour, while maintaining that this
was too short, agreed, as did all his followers, that six months would
be reasonable. That was eleven years ago, and the twelve months
are still on the statute book. The lodger franchise, established in
1867, and not since altered, fixes the value of a lodging for electoral
purposes at 102. a year unfurnished. In London this may be fairly
satisfactory. In other towns it is very different, and in the not wholly
inagnificant city of Edinburgh unmarried workmen are with few
exceptions disfranchised. Reform is quite as urgent as redistribution.
These matters would, I presume, be regarded as outside the scope
of the Bill. But the special representation of universities is undoubtedly
gemiane to the matter, and will unquestionably be raised. This intel-
lectual franchise is a sham. Even if an academic degree doubled a
man's discrimination in choosing a member of Parliament, which few
people in or out of Bedlam would assert, the most briUiant honours at
Oxford or Cambridge do not necessarily give a vote. The test there is
pecuniary, not intellectual. A Mastership of Arts, which is bought
and sold, together with an annual subscription, or the payment of a
lump sum, is indispensable for an Oxford or Cambridge voter, while
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840 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Aug.
passmen and classmen are treated alike. The members for the
universities in the House of Conmions are more worthy of their posi-
tion than they used to be. If there is to be special academic repre-
sentation at all, there could hardly be better examples of it than Sir
Richard Jebb and Sir William Anson. But the Government are
challenging the opponents of privilege, and will have to justify a
peculiar form of suffrage which no one would think of inventing if it
did not exist.
The tenderness shown to small boroughs in 1885 may or may not
have been justifiable. But, at least, it was not accompanied by a
raid upon the Irish counties. The peculiar vice of this present scheme
is that it treats Ireland in a directly hostile manner. The arith-
metical propositions upon which it rests have been deUberately so
framed as to disfranchise the highest possible number of constituencies
in Ireland, and the lowest possible number in Great Britain. It is a
sort of punishment for demanding Home Rule at five successive
elections. It is an ungrateful return for Irish support of pubUc
money without pubUc control for sectarian schools. There does
seem to be something peculiarly mean in replying to a demand for self-
government by diminished representation. At the Union Ireland did
not receive the number of seats in the Imperial Parliament to whidi
she was entitled. At the time of the first Reform Bill, fifteen years
before the famine, the disproportion had become far greater. But
the answer to Irish complaints was always the same. The Act of
Union was a treaty which could not be altered without the consent
of both parties. That principle was faithfully observed in 1885, as
well as in 1832, and it has never been actually broken since 1800. If
it is broken now, the case for Home Rule will become much stronger
and much more difficult to resist. When Mr. Gladstone introduced
his second Home Rule Bill in 1893, allowing the Irish members to sit
at Westminster, he cut them down to seventy. This scheme cuts
them down to eighty without any equivalent at all. No wonder the
Irish are restive and unruly. Perhaps they may begin to perceive
that it was not quite worth their while to vote for the Education Bill
at the bidding of the priests.
It is said that if all the Irish Nationalists had been present when
the Volunteer vote was discussed in Committee of Supply on the
13th of July the Government would have been defeated. As thirty-
five of them were absent, as they never pair, and as they now
always vote with the Opposition, this seems to be mathematically
certain. It is more speculative, but extremely probable, that the
same result would have followed if Mr. Amold-Forster had not amended
his circular. He did amend it, or Mr. Balfour amended it for him,
and he was saved. I should rather like to know, as a matter of
curiosity, what Mr. Balfour, a ParUamentary cynic of the first water,
would not do to avoid defeat in the House of Commons. He was
quite ready to drop the Unemployed Bill, which is a more serious
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1905 REDISTRIBUTION 841
matter than iidictiiig petty annoyanoes on citizen soldiers, who have
the defects of their qualities. There is a good deal of crude Socialism
in this BiU, and it will want thorough overhauling in Committee to
make it a workable measure. But the (jovemment brought it in to
deal with a grave social symptom, the Liberal party are willing to
help in amending it, and the abandonment of it for useless resolutions
would have been a crime. Mr. Balfour has been shamed out of
dropping it. The pretence that it was necessary to express abstract
opinions about redistribution would not wash, as Carlyle said at
family prayers about the arguments of EUphaz the Temanite. The
Royal Prerogative has not so far decayed as to be unequal to the
appointment of Boundary Commissioners, and in the history of Parlia-
ment no such resolutions have ever been passed before. The plain
truth is that the Conservative party would not have the Bill, and that
it was only read a second time on condition of being carried no further,
though it has now been revived in deference to agitation. That
Parliament must rise by the middle of August is treated by the
Pmne Minister as a divine law, though few of his followers ever see
grouse, or could shoot them if they did. ParUament should rise when
it has done its work, and not before. But Mr. Balfour's ideas
about the proper use of time are peculiar. When attempts were
made by private members on their own evenings to ascertain whether
he was a Protectionist or a Free Trader he complained of waste.
Nevertheless, he proposed to spend days which might be devoted to
useful legislation in declaring that twice eighteen is sixty-five, that
eighteen thousand five hundred in a borough equals forty thousand in
a county, and that the Act of Union is only fundamental so far as it
deprives Ireland of Home Rule. The epithet fundamental was
applied to the Act of Union when Lord Salisbury was Prime Minister
and Mr. Balfour a member of the (government. Mr. Gladstone
took exception to its use, arguing that all statutes were on the same
footing. The Conservative Ministry of that day defended it on the
ground that the Union was a treaty, and therefore sacrosanct. I do
not say that they were right. I think that, from a constitutional
pcMut of view, they were wrong. But they cannot have it both ways.
If one method of altering the terms fixed in 1800 is revolutionary, all
are so. A partly fundamental law is a ludicrous contradiction in
tenns.
Now that Mr. Balfour has hurriedly dropped his Resolutions, it be-
comes more difficult than ever to understand why he brought them in.
His inmiediate excuse for dropping them is the ruling of the Speaker
diat they could not be put to the vote as a single proposition, but
must be considered separately as eight or nine separate motions in
committee. To praise a Speaker for impartiality seems very like
an impertinence. But the present Speaker has lost no time in showing
tiiat he appreciates the dignity of his office and is a master of Parlia-
mentary procedure. He has decided in accordance not merely with
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842 THE NINETEENTH CENTUB7 Aug.
precedent, but also with common sense. To tareat as one and indivisible
a series of propositions which could be partly afiSrmed and partly
denied would have been unreasonable and unbusinesslike. But
surely the Prime Minister might have thought of that before. He
has been thirty years in the House of Commons, and almost twenty
years in office. Although the specific precedents to which the Speaker
referred are older than that, dating respectively from 1858 and 1867,
he might, one would think, have obtained some knowledge of them
with all the expert assistance at his command. Now everything is at
sixes and sevens. Nobody knows when the Boundary Commissioners
will be appointed, or what, when they have been appointed, they
will do. inie Bill of next year, if there is a Bill, may follow the lines
of the Besolutions or independent lines of its own. The one thing
clear is that all excuse for abandoning the Unemployed Bill has dis-
appeared. With the consent of the leaders on both sides some
principle may be established which will empower local authorities to
enlarge the scope of employment without encouraging tramps or
flooding London with undesirable immigrants. The preposterous
plan of making the Bill compulsory for the capital and voluntary
elsewhere must, of course, be abandoned. But it will be discreditable
to Parliament if the Session comes to an end without some practical
step being taken towards dealing with a social problem of great suid
grievous interest and importance.
The Prime Minister emerged from the difficulty created by the
Speaker's ruling with his usual skill. He met his followers in the House
of Commons at the Foreign Office, where, according to the authorised
report, complete harmony prevailed. Mr. Chamberlain frankly
acknowledged that he had been in favour of an earlier Dissolution,
but now considered that the present time would be highly inconvenient.
The discipline of the Conservatives is wonderful, even when they are
not agreed. As for Mr. Chamberlain, he does not mean to quarrel
with the Gk)vemment, and they will fight in the same ranks when
the election comes. Mr. Balfour's defence of his late Besolutions is at
once simple and ingenious. They have served their purpose, he says,
by telling the country how he means to proceed, and can therefore
be dropped without inconvenience. He can appoint a Boundary
Commission, or Committee, without them ; and he means to do so in
the autumn. For this course he invokes the authority of Mr. Glad-
stone in 1884, forgetting that the House of Commons had then given
an emphatic vote for the enlargement of the county franchise, which
involved Redistribution as a natural consequence. On this occasion
the House has not been consulted, and it will be perfectly free to
depart next year as widely as it pleases from the recommendations of
the Commissioners. What is to happen then ? Some people seriously
beUeve that another Commission will be appointed, and the Dissolu-
tion postponed to 1907. I cannot think ^at Mr. Balfour contem-
plates .straining the prerogative and the Septennial Act so far as
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1906 BEDISTBIBUTION 848
that. What I suppose he will do is to treat his Boundary Report
as a question of confidence, and if the House rebels against this
disrational muzzling, to dissolve. But no one can with any certainty
say. little, indeed, did electors know what they were doing when
they voted * against the Boers * in 1900.
The meeting at the Foreign Office had a singular and unexpected
sequel. It was held on a Tuesday. Next Thursday, on the stroke
of midni^t, in a House of nearly four hundred members, the Govern-
ment were defeated by a majority of four. To call this a * snap '
division is absurd. The House of Commons was in Committee of
Supply on the Irish Estimates, and had been discussing since three
or four in the afternoon an amendment moved by the Leader of the
Irish party on the vote for the Land Commission. Mr. Redmond is
not in the habit of making motions for fun, or of withdrawing them
to please English Ministers ; and though the administration of Mr.
Wyndham's Land Purchase Act may not be very closely followed in
tins country, it was known that Liberals would take all reasonable
opportunities of forcing a Dissolution. So important did the Chief
Secretary for Ireland consider the occasion to be that he took advan-
tage of it to explain a new scheme of making sale easier for the land-
lords. The Land Stock which Mr. Long proposes would require a
Bin, and the reduction of the estimate is almost equivalent to a defeat
of the measure. The fiscal question was not involved, and there
was practically no cross-voting. The NationaUsts were short by
twenty of their full strength, and the defeat was directiy due to the
nmnber of Ministerial absentees, one of whom wrote, with admirable
promptitude, to the Times to say that he had a headache. Two
others afterwards explained that they were attending at midnight
a funeral in the Home Counties. The Whip must have * wished
that it had been a nearer relation.' Blame cannot be laid upon the
Whips. Sir Alexander Acland-Hood's management of his party has
been for months the subject of universal admiration. The men simply
would not come up, and among the defaulters was Mr. Chamberhdn.
I daresay there is no significance in his particular absence, though a
great deal was made of his presence and support at the Foreign Office.
But the normal majority of the Grovemment is still about seventy.
Thursday's Whip was urgent, and the disappearance of so many
futhful followers two days after a special adjuration from the Prime
iSnister himself is not easy to explain. The long list of pairs, natural
enough in the circumstances, adds to the significance of the result.
For why did the seventy, or rather the ninety, as there were twenty
Irishmen away, neither pair nor attend ? A Greneral Election in August
would not be convenient. The conduct of the Tory Peers in throwing
out the London Tramways Bill at the bidding of the Lord Chancellor
has not improved the prospects of the party in London. Still, Mr.
Chamberlain, and about ninety others, did not appear. Mr. Balfour
has always, since his repudiation^of Free Trade as imderstood by Free
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844 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Aug. 1906
Traders, taken his stand upon his majority in the House of Commons.
So long as he had the confidence of the House, he has said over and
over again, he would cany on the Grovemment ; so long, and no
longer. Tet the day after his defeat his lieutenant in the House of
Lords wanted to do business as if nothing had happened, and pro-
tested, after attending a Cabinet, against the idea that there was
anything unusual in the situation. Mr. Balfour in the House of Com-
mons, like Lord Lansdowne in the House of Lords, played the same
game of make-beUeve. If he cannot make his party beUeve that he
ought to be supported, he will not make the country believe that he
ought to stop in.
The Prime Minister's explanation in the House of Commons on
the 24th of July amounts to a simple statement that he will do nothing
at all. He will not resign ; he will not dissolve ; he will not even,
so far as can be gathered from his speech, propose to counteract the
reduction of the vote for the Lish Land Commission by a supplemen?
tary estimate. He will just go on as if nothing had happened. On
the other hand, Sir Edward Grey's motion has been witiidrawn, and
the poUcy of the Opposition is obscure. It was left for Mr. Redmond
to annoimce that he and his party would take every opportunity of
embarrassing and defeating a discredited Grovemment. Mr. Balfour
had, of course, no difficulty in proving that Ministers do not always
go out, or appeal to the country, when they are beaten, although the
example of Lord Melbourne and the Whigs has not hitherto beeu
regarded as in that respect worthy of imitation. But he seriously
misrepresented Mr. Gladstone when he quoted him as an authority
against dissolving in consequence of by-elections. What Mr. Glad-
stone said was that the loss of by-elections was no reason for resigning
office. He gave it as a ground for dissolving ParUament in 1874,
and after the General Election he said that he only regretted having
postponed dissolution so long. When the Prime Minister suggests
that only votes of censure are necessarily fatal to Grovemments, he
forgets that he has himself taken no notice of two such votes by the
present House of Commons. His love of paradox carried him so far
that he seemed at one point to be arguing as if victory were more
disastrous than defeat, and a small hostile majority were rather a
good thing than otherwise. Sir Edward Grey's cool and powerful
criticism does appear for once to have made some temporary im-
pression upon him, but it will not last. When a man is acting from
a high sense of patriotic duty, mere argument is thrown away, and
the only thing for the Opposition to do is to do it again, remembering
the adage, which I once heard from the lips of a clergyman : ' Never
bark unless you can bite, and never bite unless you can make your
teeth meet.' Hxrbsbt Paul.
The EdUar of Thb Nineteenth Century cannot v/ndertahe
to retwm unaccepted MSB.
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AND AFTER
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XIX
No. CCCXLIII— Sri-tember 1905
I
SOME PROBLEMS OF THE UPPER NILE^
Rbobnt years — ^more particularly those subsequent to the reconquest
of the Soudan — ^have been productive of a large amount of Uterature
descriptive of the Nile, so large in fact that it might fairly be assumed
that the subject had been exhausted.
I myself must plead guilty to having contributed no inconsiderable
share to the existing mass of writing, and I feel much hesitation about
still further adding to it. I am, moreover, only too well aware that
anyone who may read the present article — under the supposition that
it contains something new — ^will speedily discover that such is not
the case. It has, however, been pointed out to me that all my
previous notes upon the Nile have appeared in the shape of Blue-
books, or other official documents, and have consequently not come
in the way of the general reader. Also that, having been purely
technical reports, they have necessarily been unattractive to many
people.
The last fact is doubtless true, but I confess to finding some diffi-
culty in presenting the subject in any but a technical form, or in
' See map facing page 355.
Vol. LVIII—No. 348 A A
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846 TEE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Sept.
other than technical language. I shall probably fail to make my
meaning clear, but I will nevertheless make the attempt, in the hope
that a short account of the schemes proposed for controlling the river
may be of some interest to those who take a pride in foDowing the
progress of England's work in Egypt and the Soudan.
It is, I fear, inevitable that I should commence with a subject
now worn well-nigh threadbare : namely, a brief description of the
great stream to which Egypt owes its being. I will, however, make
this portion of my article as short as possible, and will devote the
greater part of the space allotted to explaining what are the projects
by which it is proposed to obtain a control over the waters of the
Nile, from its sources to the sea.
To most people, the bewildering nomenclature of this river,
throughout its course, must form a serious obstacle to their compre-
hension of any general description. Who, for instance, is to under-
stand that the Victoria Nile, the Bahr-el-6ebel, the Bahr-el-Zaraf,
and the White Nile are all one and the same river ? It would be
infinitely simpler were the whole stream, from its outlet at Lake
Victoria to its junction with the Blue Nile at Khartoum, to be called
by its best known name — the White Nile. Such a change would
certainly be to the advantage of the general reader as well as of the
geographer and the map-maker.
It is, of course, unnecessary, to do more than mention the fact that
the Nile, north of Khartoum, is formed by the junction of two important
waterways — the Blue Nile, flowing from the south-east, and the
White Nile, coming from the west, or rather from the far south. Both
these rivers have their origin in lakes of large size, situated upon
plateaux of considerable altitude above the sea. Most people are
aware that the source of the Blue Nile is in Lake Tsana, in the northern
tableland of Abyssinia, and that of the White Nile in the Victoria
Nyanza — that vast fresh-water sea which Ues under the equator, in
the uplands of Uganda. The volume of the White Nile is further
augmented by the waters of two other lakes, in the same region —
namely, the Albert Edward and the Albert Nyanzas. From the
north end of the last-named lake it issues as the river which conveys
to Egypt the united waters of the three equatorial reservoirs. The
two great streams which together form the Nile at Khartoum differ
in their character to an extreme degree, but both play important
parts in producing the remarkable regularity of its annual rise and
fall. There can, however, be no question that the White Nile is the
parent river, and that its constancy of supply alone renders existence
possible in the countries which border its northern valley. The
Abyssinian stream, although providing the rich muddy floods which
bring fertiUty to the lands of Egjrpt, has but a fitful existence, and its
waters fail alt(^ther at the moment when most required, and when.
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1906 SOME PBOBLEMS OF THE UPPEB NILE 847
for want of their refresliing assistance, the thirsty land lies parched
and baked under the scorching rays of the African summer sun.
A few words must suffice to describe the essential differences
between these two rivers. The Blue Nile dashes down from the
Abyssinian highlands, traversing a wild and beautiful country, for
the most part a land of forest-clad mountains and of torrential streams.
Its valley runs in a deep cleft or gash, several thousand feet below
the general surface-level, and no explorer has as yet succeeded in
following it throughout its length. Through this canyon the Blue
Nile rushes, from time to time dropping over a succession of falls,
with a very heavy slope and a rocky bed. It is not until some
half of its course has been run that it issues into comparatively open
country. Even here its stream is rapid, its banks are high and
densely wooded, and the difference between its maximum and mini*
mum water-levels is excessive. The volume of this river is supple*
mented by that of numerous tributaries, most of them turbulent
torrents hke itself, and all of them draining the western face of the
Abyssinian plateau.
The waters of tiie Blue Nile, when this river is low, are of crjrstal-
line clearness and limpidity. At such periods they are remarkable
for the brilliant blue colour by which they reflect the sky. With the
advent of the flood they become heavily charged with sediment —
Uie scourings of the volcanic rocks and the leaf-mould of the forest
land through which the Blue Nile passes. At this season, their
colour resembles that of coffee-lees. It is to the deposit which they
contain that Egypt owes the productiveness for which its lands
have been renowned from the earUest times. The difference between
the volumes of the Blue Nile when in flood, and when its waters
have shrunk to their lowest limits, is very great — ^the former being
from sixty to seventy times as great as the latter.
The White Nile is, in all respects, a striking contrast to its great
eastern sister.
In the upper portions of its course, it too traverses a country
remarkable for the romantic beauty and the varied character of its
landscapes. The sources of the chief southern feeder of Lake Victoria
—the Kagera river — ^lie in a sterile and lava-covered region, out of
which rise the jagged peaks of a chain of volcanoes, some of which
are still active. This latid is at most seasons shrouded in a smoky
baze, and the entire area is honeycombed by the inverted cones of
long extinct craters. ^Dreary and inhospitable as is this portion of
the Nile scenery, in the neighbourhood of the lakes more pleasing
conditions premL The Victoria Nyanza is studded by numerous
islands of picturesque shape, their outline softened by masses of
indescribably beautiful vegetation. These green elevations are
mirrored in the calm water, and contrast exquisitely with the ever*
changing lights and the opalescent tints of its surface. The scenery
A A 2
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848 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Sept.
of the Albert Edward and Albert lakes differs completely from that
of Lake Victoria. Around these lonely sheets of water the landscape
is desolate and gloomy, as the mountains hem in their shores on
every side. Even here, however, the scene presents a series of pictures,
characterised by a wild and savage grandeur. Above the plateau
which separates the two lake systems towers the noble mass of
Ruenzori — the legendary Mountains of the Moon — ^its loftier summits
clothed with a mantle of perpetual snow, and apparently piercing
the clouds which cap them.
The intervening tableland consists of rolling expanses of wood-
land, alternating with open but undulating country. The low
rounded hills are carpeted with a verdure of extraordinary luxurianoe
— ^numerous wild flowers, of large size and brilliant colours, giving it
the aspect of a giant's garden. The hollows are sometimes filled by
groves of magnificent trees, and sometimes by swamps, clothed by
the sombre-looldng pap3mis. The river channel connecting the
different lakes occasionally traverses open and grassy plains — the
home of numerous antelopes — ^but more often passes through rocky
gorges and deep valleys, which lie sweltering, throughout the year,
in a damp tropical heat, and which are shrouded by an impenetrable
growth of large trees, tangled snake-like creepers, and dense under-
wood. The recesses of these primeval forests have, as yet, been
hardly penetrated by any living thing, except by the strange animals,
fiuid the still stranger types of human beings, which find a sanctuary
within their leafy shelter.
After issuing from the Albert lake, the Nile tears over a series of
picturesquely beautiful falls and rapids, or glides with a swift current
between bush-clad hills, which agi^ are bounded by lofty mountain
ranges, demarcating its valley like a wall. Down the ravines, numer-
ous torrents leap, in a succession of cascades, into the main stream.
Such natural beauties, however, are only to be met with in a
comparatively small portion of the valley of the White Nile. After
about one quarter of its total length has been accomplished, this
river enters the land of the great marshes, and from this point its
character abruptly and entirely changes. The rocky bed, the heavy
slope, and the tumbling, sparkling water disappear, and are replaced
by a muddy bottom, a low velocity, and a stream flowing in a wide and
shallow channel, between low reed-covered banks, and intersected
by numerous swampy islands. For many hundred miles it pursues
a tortuous course through wide marshes, losing much of its slope,
by reason of the endless loops and bends which succeed one another
with maddening r^ularity. The colour of its waters too changes
completely, and assumes a brownish green hue. In this region the
Nile passes through those swamps in which occur the ' sudd ' blocks,
those remarkable weed barriers which have, in the past, completely
l)arred its flow, and whicfe h^ye only, within the last few years^ been
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1906 SOME PBOBLEMS OF THE UPPER NILE 849
removed by the efforts of a small band of English offioers. This
melancholy-looking expanse stretches like a reedy ocean in all direc-
tions, and covers an area of several thousand square miles — for the
most part, a horrible marsh, filled by tall reeds and papyrus, and well
described by the late Sir Samuel Baker as ' a heaven for mosquitoes
and a damp heU for men.' The dead-flat horizon is rarely broken by
any elevation, and the sight of even an occasional bush, or stunted
tree, is welcome as relieving, in some smaU degree, the prevailing
monotony of the hideous landscape. These swamps are interspersed
by shallow lagoons — some of considerable size — ^which are filled by
water spilling into them from the river channel. It is to the
evaporation on these lagoons, and to the absorption of the water
plants, that the great waste of water on the White Nile is chiefly due.
So great, indeed, is the regulating effect of these marshes that, at the
point where the Bahr-el-Gtebel finally issues from the ' sudd ' country,
it has lost from 50 to 85 per cent, of the volume which it brought down
from the hills, and the quantity which it discharges into the White
Nile varies but little throughout the year. This appalling loss of
water is one of the most remarkable features characterising the White
Nile, or, as it is called in its course through the swamps, the Bahr-el-
Gebel.-' No matter how high may be the water-level of Lake Albert,
or how large the added volume brought in by the tributary streams
which enter the river, the discharge of the Nile at the point where it
issues from the *" sudd ' area is practically constant at all seasons and
mider all conditions.
The prevention of this loss of water is the chief problem connected
with the Nile which requires solution.
Apart from the numerous torrents which feed the Bahr-el-Grebel in
its tempestuous course through the hills, this river, or rather that
portion of it known as the White Nile, receives the waters of two main
affluents — one coming from the west and one from the east. These
are both perennial streams, but differ largely from each other in their
effect upon the flow of the main river. The western tributary is
known as the Bahr-el-6hazal, or Gazelle river. It drains the north-
eastern plateau of the watershed between the Nile and the Congo.
It is fed by numerous streams, but, in the last two hundred miles of
its course, it traverses a series of immense marshes, in which it loses
its entire slope, and in which its waters are sucked up as by a sponge.
So much is this the case that the Bahr-el-6hazal, where it enters the
Nile, is Uttle more than a deep and reedy ditch, of almost stagnant
water, playing no part whatever in the system of supply, beyond
perhaps that of a reservoir, from which the water, not evaporated in
the swamps, filters down into the White Nile, when the levels of this
last are low enough to permit of its doing so.
The eastern tributary of the White Nile — ^the Sobat — plays a very
* I,e, The Mountain Biver.
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860 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Sept.
difEerent rdle from the Bahr-el-Qliazal, and, indeed, it is upon the dis-
charge of this river that, for some months of the year, Egypt depends
for the greater portion of its water supply. The Sobat is a true
mountain stream, rising in the southern Abyssinian plateau. At
certain periods its waters Rhrink to a very insignificant amount, and
its bed is almost dry. For nearly hdf the year it comes down in a
heavy flood, and, when full, the volume which it adds to the White
Nile IB nearly three times as great as that brought down from the
equatorial lakes by the medium of the Bahr-el-Glebel. It is to the
cloudy milk-white colour imparted by the Sobat water that the White
Nile owes its name.
Before I discuss the diflerent projects for controlling the Upper
Nile, I must say a few words regarding the parts respectively played
by the lake reservoirs and by the several rivers which combine to form
the great system of which the Nile is composed.
Such remarks must of necessity be very brief, as anything like a
detailed description of this intricate question would far exceed the
limits of an article like the present. Moreover, the information
available is still sadly limited, and only covers a very short period
of time. Each succeeding year, however, adds to our knowledge,
and enables us to understand better how complex — ^but how perfect
— is the system which creates this great river. As regards the lakes
which form its sources, all recent information tends to prove that the
potentiality of these natural reservoirs, as regards water storage,
is less than had formerly been imagined, and that the annual rise and
fall of their levels is chiefly determined by the rainfall, and by
the evaporation on their surfaces, rather than by the water added
by the rivers of their catchment areas, or withdrawn by the Nile
itself.
Thus, Lake Tsana — the source of the Blue Nile — does not appear to
aflect materially the discharge of that river, or to be seriously aflected
itself, as regards its level, by the amount of water drawn off it by the
Nile at any season of the year. The volume which passes the outlet
appears to be altogether insignificant, and, even when the lake is
full, would seem to be as nothing, compared with that added by the
drainage of the Blue Nile valley, or by its great tributaries, the
Dabus, the Dudessa, the Rahad, and the Dinder.
Turning to the White Nile, although it is beyond question that its
true source is the Victoria Nyanza, it now seems almost certain that —
owing to the effect of the marshes of the Choga lake, through which
the river passes after leaving the Ripon falls — the volume of water
issuing from Lake Victoria is so regulated and reduced that the quantity
which eventually reaches the Albert N3ranza is practically constant
throughout the year, however high or low the levels of the latter lake
may be. Consequently, the part which the Victoria Nyanza plays,
with regard to the Nile discharge, is limited to passing a constant
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1906 SOME PROBLEMS OF THE UPPER NILE 861
supply into the Albert lake. I do not mean to assert that the volume
which reaches Lake Albert bj means of the connecting river — the
Victoria Nile — ib a constant one, but only that portion of it which is
due to the Victoria lake. North of Lake Choga, the rainfall in the
Nile valley is very heavy, and at times largely increases the volume
which enters the Albert Nyan^.
With this last-named lake the case is very different, and upon the
levels of its waters the supply of the White Nile largely depends. If
Lake Victoria is the true source, Lake Albert is the true reservoir of
the Nile, and, to some extent, the regulator which determines the
volume which passes down the river. Allusion has already been made
to the fact that the Albert N3ranza receives the waters of both lake
systems — ^namely, that of the Victoria lake, by the Victoria Nile, and
that of the Albert Edward, by the medium of the Semliki river. This
last stream is supplied not alone by Lake Albert Edward, but also
by the melting snows, and the glaciers of the Ruenzori mountains.
The Uganda plateau has two periods of annual rainfall, the one
from March to June, and the other from October to January. The
periods of maximum and minimum supply in the lakes differ consider-
ably, as Lake Victoria is at its highest by the end of May, and at its
lowest in September. The Albert lake rises steadily throughout the
summer, but does not reach its maximum until November or December,
and, as a rule, its minimum by the end of March. It is the sustained
rise, throughout the summer months, which renders this lake so
suitable as a possible storc^e reservoir.
The rainfall in the Upper Nile valley itself is heavy in the late
autumn, and again in July and August. This fills the tributary
torrents which enter the Upper Nile below its outlet from the lake.
As Lake Albert falls, and these torrents dry up, the Nile falls too, and
reaches its minimum in March or April. The lake then begins to
rise again, and the heavy rainfall of July and August again brings
large flushes into the Nile, by means of its tributaries, and the river
attains its TnftTJTnnm in September. The effect of these tributaries,
however, is much less important than that of Lake Albert, and all the
latest information collected goes to show that the level of this reservoir
is the deciding factor of the river discharge, the torrents plajdng only
a secondary part. If, then, the lake levels, at the end of the year,
are high, the supply in the Bahr-el-Grebel in the following summer
win almost certainly be a good one, and the flood most probably a
high one. If, on the contrary, the lake levels in December are low,
tiien, no matter how much water is brought in by the tributary rivers,
the summer supply in the following year will be below the average,
and the flood most probably a poor one. I wish to lay special stress
upon this point, as it is in connection with Lake Albert that the solution
of the problem of securing a permanent summer supply for the Nile is
to be found. It is, of course, understood that when I talk about the
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852 THE NINETEENTH CENTU^RY Sept.
flood in the Nile being a good one, or the reverse, I only allude to the
amount of water reaching the great swamps. If my description of
the Upper Nile has been in any way in,telligible, it will have been
understood that, from the time it reaches the marshes, this rivier
becomes, to all intents and purposes, a lost one.
With the foregoing information before us, it is possible to compre-
hend the parts played by the different rivers, which together form the
Nile, throughout a year of average supply.
During the months of April and May all these streams are at
their lowest, and, practically, the only water passing Khartoum is
that which comes through the White Nile marshes, supplemented by
a very small volume brought down by the Blue Nile. In June the
Abyssinian rainfall ciEtuses the eastern river to rise more or le^s steadily.
The flood increases rapidly in July and attains its maximum in August,
falling quickly in September. The Atbara — ^another important flood
tributary of the Nile — ^begins to rise in June, and is in full flood in
August, but generally a Uttle in advance of the Blue Nile. It too
falls rapidly in September, and is dry during the winter months.
Meanwhile, on the White Nile, as has been already demonstrated,
a constant but small discharge, derived from the equatorial lakes,
issues from the great marshes by means of Bahr-el-Grebel and its loop,
the Bahr-el-Zaraf . The flood rise in the White Nile is consequently
entirely dependent upon the volume of the Sobat. This river, in an
average year, begins to bring in water to the main stream in the
month of June, and after this date its discharge increases rapidly,
attaining its maximum in September or October, after which it falk
rapidly. As tiie volume added to the Nile by the Sobat increases,
the water in the former river — above the junction — ia held back,
and ponded up. The marshes are thi^s flooded for a considerable
distance up-stream, and form a reservoir which cannot diteharge
itself until the Sobat flood has passed away. Meanwhile the Sobat
water passes to the north, down the White Nile channel, taking the
place of the lake water, and from July until October practically forms
the entire supply which reaches Khartoum by the medium of 'the
White Nile.
During July, 'then, daily increasing discharges are arriving at
Kliartoum from both the Blue and White Niles, and to these are added
the volume of the Atbara, north of the junction. These three rivers
combined cause the annual flood rise in Egypt. In August^ the effect
of the two great eastern flood-feeders becomes much more pronounced,
and in this month occurs one of the most important and most inter-
esting phenomena of the entire Nile system. At this period the
flood discharge of the Blue Nile increases very rapidly, and attains to
a volume some ten times as great as that brought down by the White
Nile. The Blue Nile now plays an exactly similar part (but upon
an infinitely larger scale, with regard to the White Nile) to that which
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1905 SOME PROBLEMS OF THE UPPER NILE S53
I have alieadj described the Sobat as dcHng to the White Nile above
the junction. As soon as the Blue Nile flood exceeds a certain
volume at Khartoum, it holds back the waters of the White Nile
entirely — ponding them up and forming an immense reservoir, which
floods the White Nile valley for several hundred kilometres up-stream
of the junction of the two rivers. This ponding-up is maintained
until the discharge of the Blue Nile again falls below the volume in
question, which generally occurs in September. As soon as this
happens, the impounded water in the White Nile is set free, and
passes on to the north. As the Blue Nile discharge further decreases,
its place is taken by that of the White Nile water. In consequence
of the water stored in the reservoir, the discharge of this last river
mc^eases steadily until the end of the year. When the Sobat also
falls, the water held up in the smaller reservoir — up-stream of the
]ai\ction with the White Nile — passes down the latter channel and
helps to maintain the supply. In the month of November, when the
Sob&t discharge has shrunk to small dimensions, the equatorial lake
wateor, passing down the Bahr-el-Gtebel, c^ain becomes the main
source of the White Nile supply, but the water held up in the two
reservoirs above mentioned is so considerable in quantity that, through-
out the early winter months, the volume actually passing Khartoum
is considerably greater than that which comes down from the lakes
after having passed through the great marshes.
I hope I have succeeded in making the above comprehensible.
To those who do not know the Nile, and ^ho have not studied its
discharges, it is difficult to explain this wonderful arrangement, by
which these rivers autopiatically compensate one another, so that
at the time when the one system is passing on a large volume of water,
the other is storing up its discharge, and when the former begins to
decrease in volume the stored water takes its place and makes good
the deficiency.
I must now say a few words regarding the water requirements of
Egypt and of the Soudan.
Many people, I think, know that in Egypt there are two systems
of irrigation — the one known as * basin,' and the other as * perennial '
irrigation. The former system, which dates from the days of the
Pharaohs; consists in 'turning the flood-water over the land, then
draining it off, and sowing a crop upon the slime thus deposited. In
the latter system water is given throughout the year, but only in such
quantities as required, and is controlled in an elaborate system of
canals. By this last method the more valuable crops, such as cotton and
sugar-cane, are raised, and land perennially irrigated increases in
value over that watered as ' basin ' to an extraordinary extent. Conse-
quently, all the efforts of the irrigation service in Egypt are directed
to devising some means by which-^uring the months previous to
the floo^ when the river would be naturally at its lowest — the supply
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864 TUB NINETEENTH CENTUBY Sept-
of the Nile may be materially inoieased and the area of land perenni-
ally irrigated materially augmented.
To begin with the water requirements of Egypt. The latest
returns assess the totd cultivable area at eight millions of acreSy
of which about one miUion consists of waste land. From this/
totd it will be safe to deduct half a million acres as representing
land unfit for cultivation. Another half miUion acres bordering
the edge of the western desert south of Cairo will always be reserved
as basin. This reduces the area to seven miUion acres. Of this, four
million acres, at present, receive perennial irrigation, and, by the end
of 1908, the conversion of the basins will raise this total to £Dur and a
half miUions. Deducting this figure, there remain two and a half
million acres to be provided for. Experience has shown that one
miUiard (1,000 miUions) of cubic metres of water stored will suffice for
the smnmer irrigation of half a million acres of land. Consequentiy,
these two and a half million acres will require a storage of five milhards
of cubic metres of water.
The question before us is — ^how are these five milliards to be
obtained ?
The Aswan dam, if raised, will provide water for another half
miUion acres ; but, even supposing this be done, there wiU stiU be four
miUiards of cubic metres to be eventuaUy provided.
The depression in the western desert — ^known as the Wadi Rayyan
— ^has been proposed as a reservoir. It is very possible that it may
one day be made use of for this purpose, but, owing to its situation, it
would probably be best reserved until such time as the question of
reclaiming and irrigating the shaUow lakes which border the northern
delta shaU become one of urgency.
It is probable that storage reservoirs, of sufficient capacity to
store the required four miUiards, can be constructed in the NUe vaUey,
somewhere between the second and the sixth cataracts. This
cannot, however, be stated with certainty untU the survey of the
cataracts — ^now in progress — shaU have been completed. Meanwhile,
supposing it were possible to construct such reservoirs, it would be
impossible to fiU them with water, imless the winter supply in the
river, brought down from the south, be largely increased. Those
responsible for irrigation in Egypt are weU aware that under present
conditions, in a year of low supply, it would only just be possible
to store another miUiard of water above the Aswan dam, if raised as
proposed. I say this would be just possible, but in doing so the
extreme limit of water available for storage would be reached, and
undoubtedly the winter navigation of the NUe, between Aswan and
Cairo, would suffer very considerably. In order, then, to find the
extra water required, some means must be found of increasing the flow
of the Upper NUe during the periods of winter, spring, and early
summer.
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1905 SOME PROBLEMS OF THE UPPEB NILE 355
Now, as to the irrigation requirementB of the Soudan.
The area of cultivable land in the Soudan may almost be termed
unlimited, as a far larger area exists than could ever be irrigated by
the Nile, supposing that its waters were entirely devoted to such a
purpose. The irrigation limits, then, are those due to the water
available, the phjrsical features of the coimtry, and the density of
population. Large tracts, however, are blessed with a bounteous
rainfall, and much of the area is so scantily populated that it may be
left out of the present calculation. It will be amply sufficient, for
all present needs, to select those tracts which, from their favourable
situation, appear to be most likely to bring in a return for money
expended. Among such areas are the lands of the north-eastern
Ghezira — ^namely, the land Ijang between the two Niles. To these
may be added the tracts bordering the east bank of the Blue Nile.
The extent of land that can be irrigated must depend entirely upon
tiie amount of water that the proposed new works can secure for the
summer irrigation of this coimtry, but, if a few miUion acres can be
thus benefited, ample provision will have been made for the wants of
the next generation of Soudanese.
In a recent report upon the basin of the Upper Nile^ I recom-
mended that all summer water available in the Blue Nile should be
made use of for the Soudan alone, while the waters of the White Nile
should be reserved for Egypt and the river valley between Khartoum
and Aswan. I venture to think that this recommendation is a soimd
one, and it is cert€dnly logical. The richest lands in the Soudan —
napaely, those I have alluded to above — can only be watered by means
of the Blue Nile. The White Nile, owing to its feeble slope, is not
suitable for any large irrigation schemes, and, moreover, the lands
adjoining it are not nearly so rich as those upon the Blue Nile. As
it is immaterial to Egypt from whence its water shaU be derived,
I maintain that the White Nile must be used as a carr3dng channel
for conveying water to that country, while the Blue Nile water must
be reserved for the benefit of the countries adjoining it, which can
be irrigated by no other means. The projects, with the proposed
expenditure, may then be divided into two categories : those relating
to the White Nile, which will benefit Egypt ; and those on the Blue
Nile, which will benefit the Soudan alone.
I will discuss the schemes regarding the White Nile first, as they
are not only larger, but infinitely more difficult to pronounce definitely
upon than those contemplated for the Blue Nile. In order to com-
prehend what is proposed it will be necessary to study the accom-
panying map.
It will be seen that the Bahr-el-6ebel, or White Nile, leaves the
cataract region and enters the marshes, near the Belgian port of
Bejaf, and down-stream of the Bedden Rapids. For the purposes of
* Foreign Office Blae-Book, Egypt (No. 2), 1901.
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856 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Sept.
this note this point may be considered to be Gbndokoro, the Uganda
frontier station, which is situated a few miles to the north.
Between Gk»ndokoro and Bor — a distance of 109 miles — ^the river
is bordered by wide swamps, but does not enter the great marshes,
in which the ' sudd ' blocks occur, until the latter point is reached.
Consequently, although improvement of the channel between the two
places will be requisite, in order to enable it to carry the extra water
required, the work will be comparatively straightforward, and, in any
case, no alternative line exists. This portion of the scheme is, of
course, conmion to all projects for improving the White Nile. What
is required here is the widening and deepening of the channel, upon a
sujfficient scale, and the closing of all the spills by which the river
water is wasted in the marshes.
North of Bor, however, there are several alternative proposals,
and it is here that the real difficulties commence. I should mention
that what is called Bor consists merely of a collection of Dinka
villages, but this place becomes important from the point of view of
our schemes as being the last point where the high bank — on the
east — abuts upon the river before the latter loses itself in the great
swamps. I have said that, in all our schemes <^for increasing the
Egyptian water supply, we must turn to the White Nile. Although
at the sources of this river Nature has provided water in abundance,
she has tantalisingly erected an effectual barrier to its being made
use of, in the shape of the vast marshes, through which the river
struggles for nearly five hundred miles, and in which it loses more
than half its volume. All our aims must then be directed to devising
some means by which this waste may be averted, and by which the
lost river may be enabled to pass through the swamps in un-
diminished volume.
I have mentioned that the first reaich of the river — ^from Gondo-
koro to Bor — has a length of 109 miles. The projects for further
remodelling the Upper Nile must all lie within the reach between
Bor and the junction!of the Sobat with the White Nile — a distance
of some 444 miles, as measured upon the river itsell
A further reference to the map will show that, at 366 miles below
Bor, the Bahr-el-6hazal meets the Bahr-el-Gebel — ^the junction
forming a shallow sheet of water known as Lake No, and called by the
Arabs ' Moghren-el-Buhur,' or the Meeting of the Rivers. Also, it
will be observed that, from below Bor, somewhere in the marshes,
a loop of the Bahr-el-6ebel runs to the east, conveying a portion of
its waters through the swamps, and rejoining the White Nile between
Lake No and the Sobat jimction. This loop is known as the Bahr-el-
Zaraf, or Giraffe River, and is formed by numerous spills from the
Bahr-el-Gebel. La its upper course this river is difficult to trace,
but lower down it has a well-defined channel. It is not easy to
make the above explanations clear and comprehensible ; the nomen-
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datoie of these riven is so perplexing. I hope, however, that the
map will render assistance in this respect, and, in order to understand
what is proposed, it is indispensable that these names should be
borne in mind.
The problem, then, before us is — ^how best to improve the river,
between Bor and the Sobat junction, so as to secure that the summer
supply passing the former point from Qondokoro shall be delivered
at the Sobat junction with as small amount of loss as is possible.
Obviouslj, the natural way to do this, and that which would occur
to everyone first visiting these rivers, or studying their course upon
the map, would be to take up and improve either the Bahr-el-6ebel
or the Bahr-eT-Zaraf — ^widening and deepening the one or the other,
by means of dredgers, and, at the same time, dosing aQ its outlets
into the marshes, so as to render it capable of carrying the required
supply. I may mention that neither of these channels is at present
at all capable of doing this. The Bahr-el-Qebel, which is the main
stream and by far the larger of the two, can, under present conditions,
only carry one-third of the future required supply. The Bahr-el-
Zaraf , again, has a very much smaller section, and is even less fitted
for what is required. Neitiier of these streams has any banks at
all, and, were any extra water turned into them, it would only spill
over into the marshes and be lost by evaporation, and by the absorp-
tion of the water- weeds which cover this area.
In my last year's report, to which allusion has already been made,^
I described an alternative scheme which, if feasible, is to my mind, a
great improvement upon either of the others. The original idea for
this scheme was first suggested to me by Mr. J. S. Beresford, late
Inspector-General of Irrigation in India.
I will describe it.
Between Bor and the Sobat junction, the Nile takes a great bend
to the west. A straight line drawn between these two points, upon
a meridian, would not only shorten the distance between them very
considerably, but would pass through dry land, leaving the entire
swamp area well to the west of it. The project then is to cut a
channel — ^between Bor and the Sobat junction — sufficiently large to
take the entire future smnmer discharge of the Upper Nile, but not
large enough to take in the flood-water. This last is an important
point. I will explain why.
When I first passed through the * sudd ' in the year 1900,
and for several years after, I was under the impression that —
although in summer (when the river is low) the waste through the
marshes was excessive — during flood, when the volume is large, the
mass of the river water passed through the swamps and found its
way into the White Nile, down-stream of them, with but Uttle
diminution. Consequently, all my earlier projects for improvement
* Foreign Office Blae-Book, Egypt (1002), 1901.
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868 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Sept.
were based upon the idea that it was necessary so to widen the
river, throngK the marshes, as to render it capable of carrying the
entire flood discharge passing Gondokoro. It was not until the
' sudd ' had been removed, and I was able to obtain a series of con-
secutive measurements of the discharges, above and below the obstacle,
that I realised that my first impression had been erroneous, and that
the greater the volume of water arriving at the soutii end of the
marshes, the larger is the proportion of loss in that issuing from their
northern extremity. Further, it was not until two years ago that I
grasped the real solution of the problem — namely, that these marshes
provide a magnificent natural escape for the flood- water, and that
all our efforts should be devoted to encouraging it to spread over
them, and be thus wasted and evaporated, while the precious summer
water is confined to a well-defined and satisfactorily constructed
channel of its own, and conveyed to the north with comparativdy
littie waste. AU the present schemes are based upon this idea, which
has immensely simplified the problem to be solved.
Now, in the case of the remodelling of the existing channels — ^the
Bahr-el-6ebel and the Bahr-el-Zaraf — ^there are certain disadvantages
and difficulties, to which I will afterwards allude, in the way of so
constructing either channel that it may carry the entire summer
water supply, and yet permit of the flood-water escaping into the
marshes. In the case of the proposed new cut, from Bor to the Sobat,
such difficulties do not arise.
A masonry regulator (with a lock for navigation) would be built
at the head of the new channel, while another masonry regulator
would be constructed across the river bed at Bor. The new cut
would thus assume the character of a large artificial canal, and, by
means of the two regulators, the most perfect control over its dis-
charge, and over that of the river, would be secured. Thus, in winter
and in summer, when it was desired to pass down all the water in the
river to the north, the head regulator of the new channd would be
completely opened, and the regulator across the Nile would be closed.
At this time no water would pass into the marshes. In flood the
reverse would be the case. The Nile regulator would be fully opened,
so that the flood water could pass through and lose itself in the swamps,
while the head of the new channel would be so regulated upon that
only 80 much water would be permitted to pass down it as was
required for navigation. It must be remembered that, at this season,
no water is required in the White Nile from the south, as the Sobat
discharge, during the flood months, takes the place al the Bahr-d-
Gebel water and arrests the latter entirely.
Undoubtedly this project is a most attractive one, and to my
mind — ^alwajrs supposing that further detailed studies shall not prove
it to be impracticable — ^it is the soundest of all those under considera-
tion for improving the Upper Nile. It requires no technical know-
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ledge to understand and appreciate how great would be the advantages
to be gained by the constmction of such a diversion of the river. The
present long winding channel through the marshes would be replaced
by a straight cut, through dry land, very much shorter than the
existing line. This cut would be under complete control, owing to
the regulator at its head. There should be comparatively little loss
throughout its length, as the velocity would be considerable, and its
alignment would take it well to the east of the swamps. The earth
derived from the excavation of the channel would form wide banks
on either side, which would form good lines of communication, even
during the rainy season, and upon wh^ch the trans-oontinentd tele-
graph line, and even the railway — should this last ever be constructed
— ^might with advantage be placed. No obstruction would be caused
to the drainage east of the channel, which would flow, most probably,
into the Ehor Filus, a drainage line running parallel to the new cut.
Lastly, the flood water would not enter the ne^ channel at all — ^beyond
the amount actually required for navigation — ^but would spread all
over the marshes and be lost by evaporation. In this way a perfect
control over the Upper Nile could at all seasons be obtained.
I give here the approximate distances between Gondokoro and the
Sobat junction by the three respective schemes I have mentioned.
I ought to say that the length of the proposed new channel, between
Bor and the Sobat, is, approximately, 210 miles.
L Length, making use of the new channel from Bor . . . 822 miles
n. „ „ „ „ „ Bahr-el-Zaraf . 498 „
III. „ „ „ „ „ Bahr-el-Gebel . 550 „
These figures show how great is the advantage, as regards distance,
to be gained by the new channel.
I do not consider that any of the objections that I have seen
brought forward against this project militate seriously against its
soundness. My own objection to it, and that which, to my mind,
may cause its abandonment, is the probable cost of such a work.
This muBt necessarily be very great, and it is quite possible that
it may prove to be so excessive as to be prohibitive. Until the
levelled survey has been completed it is useless to speculate upon
this point, as it is impossible to prepare any estimate which can
be, in the slightest degree, an accurate one. It may be that the
longitudinal slope of the country ^between Bor and the Sobat may
prove to be so feeble that a very large cross-section of channel will
be entailed, and consequently an immense cube of excavation. On
the other hand, it may be that the great gain in distance secured by
this channel may compensate for tUs extra cube, as compared with
the other projects. We cannot yet say, and must await the detailed
survey.
Another objection that occurs to me as regards the new channel.
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860 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Sept.
though not 80 serious as the foregoing, lies in the difficulties of its
ezeoution, and the time that the work might take to complete. I
hope, however, that, with the progress made in recent years in the
way of perfecting types of hydrauUc dredgers and steam excavators,
it may be found that such difficulties may not prove to be so great
as they at present appear. It must be imderstood that, whatever
may be the project finally selected, machinery must be made use of
in its execution, as the employment of hand labour upon a large
scale in these regions is quite out of the question.
I will now return to the alternative projects connected with the
White Nile : namdy, the improvement of the Bahr-el-Grebel or the
Bahr-el-Zaraf.
I will premise by sapng that, in my opinion, the decision as to
which of these two channels should be selected must almost entirely
depend upon the comparative amount of the estimates, resulting
from the detailed studies now in progress. From any other point
of view but that of cost, I do not think there is very much to be said
in favour of one scheme over the other. The BiJir-el-Qebel is the
larger and the deeper channel, and consequently would require a
smaller cube of work — to secure the required section — ^than would
the Bahr-el-Zaraf. On the other hand, the distance between the two
given points is less by the line of the Bahr-el-Zaraf than by the Bahr-
el-Qebel, and one advantage of using the former channel would
be that it could be made use of for carrying the summer water
alone, and could be provided with a regulating head, which might
be closed in flood. By such an arrangement, the Bahr-el-Gebel would
remain in its existing state, and the flood-water would be escaped
into the marshes as at present. Each of the two projects presents
certain advantages and certain disadvantages, and the question
practically resolves itself into one of cost. In either case very heavy
work will be entailed in widening and deepening the channels. This
work can only be carried out by means of powerful dredgers, and,
when the great length of these lines is taken into account, it is evident
that the cost of the work will be very heavy.
The only advantages which, to my mind, can be claimed for selecting
one or other of these rivers for improvement, in place of constructing
the new channel, are those of economy and of the comparatively
short time within which the work might possibly be completed. These
are strong arguments in their favour, I admit. The economy would
probably be considerable, in spite of the extra length, as a hiigB
portion of the section of channel required exists already. Again, it
would be easy to employ as many dredgers as were thought necessary
on either river, all working simultaneously, throughout the entire
length of the line. On the Bor- Sobat channel the difficulty of attacking
the work at several different points at once is one of the drawbacks
to the project, as it is of course most important that such a work,
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1905 SOME PROBLEMS OF THE UPPER NILE 861
once decided upon, should be completed in as short a time as
possible.
On the other hand, the objections to remodelling either of the
existing branches of the Bahr-el-6ebel are numerous.
In the first place, when completed they will be still swamp rivers,
tiayeising vast marshes, and will always so remain. In the second
place, the water-levels at Lake No will be raised, and the flood of the
Bahr-el-6hazal still further checked than at present, while the drainage
of the marshes will be unable to run off at alL
I also fear that it will be found extremely difficult to design
machinery which will effectually remove the dense tangle of reeds and
papyrus which borders these rivers on either side. This growth
requires to be seen in order that this difficulty may be fully appreciated.
Certainly no suction dredger could touch it, and it would require very
special plant to remove it, on the large scale that would be necessary.
My chief objection, however, to the Bahr-el-Gebel Ues in the doubt
which exists, in my mind, regarding the stability of the marshes,
through which it passes, in years of high flood. No one who has not
visited these areas under varying conditions of water-level can realise
how unstable can be their condition at times. I can never forget the
fflght I saw on this river in the year 1900, at the commencement of the
rainy season, when strong winds prevailed. At that time, hundreds
of acres of apparentiy soUd groimd, covered with reeds, were set in
motion by the action of the winds and water, and drifted about in the
lagoons bordering the riv^r, eventually breaking into its channel
and blocking it. In a few hours' time a soUd mass was formed, con-
sisting of earth and vegetation, several hundred yards in length and
nearly twenty feet thick. This mass was so speedily compressed
by the force of the confined water that it attained a soUdity sufficient
for an elephant to have crossed it with impunity. The sight of
these drifting islands, and the resistiess maimer in which they forced
their way into the river, and in which their masses piled one above the
other, impressed me greatiy. It is only fair to state that, since the
removal of the 'sudd,' the conditions of the Bahr-el-Gebel appear
to have become more stable than before, but I caimot help feeUng
tiiat what has once happened may again do so, and that if this river
is widened to any considerable extent — ^and even if spill weirs are
made upon either side to allow of the flood-water escaping into the
marshes — an excessive flood may one day come down from the south
and the channel may again be wrecked, and again blocked by * sudd *
at several points of its course. It was for this reason that I, in my last
year's report, advocated taking up the Bahr-el-Zaraf and improving it,
rather than the Bahr-el-Gebel, and allowing the latter to remain in its
present condition. Until we have fuller information and a complete
set of levelled sections of both rivers before us, with which we can
prepare definite estimates, we must postpone any decision regarding
Vol. LVUI-No. 343 B B
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862 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Sept.
them. None of our studieB are as yet complete. Dunng the kst
few years a large amount of important data has been collected,
but much moie requires to be supplied. It is imperative that we
should be absolutely certain of our facts before we commit ourselves
definitely to any particular scheme.
Before leaving the question of the White Nile I must say a few
words regarding one portion of the general project, which is of supreme
importance, and which must largely affect all future schemes. I allude
to the regulation of the Albert lake by means of a masonry regulator
to be constructed somewhere below the Nile outlet. I have en-
deavoured to show how important is the influence of this lake upon the
river, and such a work has always been contemplated as a sequence
of the improvement of the river through the marshes. I have now
come to the conclusion tiiat this work ought to be carried out simul-
taneously with that of the remodelling of the Bahr-el-GebeL My
present opinion is based upon the information recently collected
regarding this lake, which has induced a better comprehension of
the part which it plays as regards the Nile discharge. Formerly,
I only looked upon the construction of this regulator from the point
of view of raising the lake-levels, and of thus increasing its capacity
as a storage reservoir. I now see that such a work is the only method
of securing ferrnanefM/y of iUffly in the river. I will explain what I
mean. The Bahr-el-6ebel, or the Upper White Nile, derives its
supply from two sources — the waters of the Albert Nyanza, and those
of the numerous torrents which feed it in its course between the lake
and Grondokoro. All our latest information goes to show that, of the
amount of water which passes Gondokoro during the three months
of flood,^ about one half is supplied by the lake itself, and the other
half by the tributary rivers. If, then, a r^^ulator were built across
the river at or near the outlet, it could be closed, either partially or
entirely, during the flood period, and the river thus allowed to depend
for its supply upon the tributaries alone. In this way the amount of
flood-water reaching the marshes would be reduced by about one half,
and the danger of the improved channel being wrecked would be
enormously diminished. Moreover, throughout this time, with the
closure of the regulator, the lake-level up-stream of the work would
be rising, and water would be thus stored, which could afterwards
be made use of for innreasiTig the supply when the torrents had run
off and were again dry.
Such a work would give a power of controlling the river impossible*
to obtain in any other manner, and I consider this r^^ulator to be
the key to the whole question of the improvement of the Upper Nile.
Sir William WiUcocks has long urged its construction, and I entirely
agree with him. Of course, until the river is remodelled through
the marshes it is useless to consider the question of regulating
* From July to September.
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1906 SOME PROBLEMS OF THE UPPEB NILE 363
at the lake oaUet, but now that the projeotB for improving the river
appear likely to take definite ahape» in a near future, I consider it
imperative that the designs for a regulator at Lake Albert shotn^ te
also studied and prepared, and that the execution of both v^^rks
should be simultaneous. Even if the Bor-Sobat channel be decided
upon, such a work is necessary, as only by this means can the extra
supply be stored in the lake and brought down to the White Nile.
U, on the other hand, the improvement of either the Bahr-el-Gbbel
or the Bahr-el-Zaraf be decided upon, then its construction is in-
dispensable, not merely for storage purposes, but because by such
means alone can the floods be controlled and a permanency of supply
secured in the Upper Nile. The amount of water brought into the
rivers by the torrents would of course be variable, as these streams
come down in a series of heavy flushes and subside as quickly as they
rise. With a telegraph line from Khartoum to the Albert lake,
however, and a few stations for recording the hver-levels, and the
rainfall between its outlet and Qondokoro, it would be possible to
know exactly what was happening in the Upper Nile valley, and to
regulate the lake outlet as required.
I have now said all that I have to say r^arding the projects for
the White Nile, and I only trust that I have made my meaning dear.
I have far exceeded the space I had intended to allot to this hver, and
I must consequently curtail my remarks concerning the Blue Nile.
Fortunately, the schemes projected for this river are comparatively
simple ones, and are limited in their extent by the amount of water
available. On the Blue Nile there is no question of a steady supply
throughout the year, as, notwithstanding its great volume during
flood, it is practically dry during the spring months. Unless, then,
it is possible to store water, and to make good the deficiency, all
projects in connection with this river must be limited to those for flood
and winter irrigation only. Were it not for the fact that the Blue Nile
has its sources in, and for a great part of its course runs through,
Abyssinian territory, the problem of water storage would be a simple
one. In Lake Tsana a perfect natural reservoir -exists, which might,
by the medium of a few comparatively small works, be rendered
capable of impounding water sufficient for the perennial irrigation
of the countries bordering the Blue Nile. Unfortunately, the poUtical
difficulties connected with this question are so considerable tiiAt this
attractive project must be regarded as definitely abandoned, or,
at all events, rel^ated to a very distant future. It may be found
possible, although I doubt its being so, to find a site suitable for
a reservoir of limited capacity somewhere among the rapids of the
Blue Nile valley, within Soudan territory. The ^ope of the river is,
however, so very great that a dam, to be of any use at all for storage,
would have to be raised to a great height. Moreover, no storage of
the Blue Nile waters, when in flood, could be attempted on account
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864 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Sept.
of the sediment they contain at that season. As soon as they become
dear and free from deposit, their volume is so diminished tiiat there
is very little left to store. It seems, then, almost certain that any
idea of perennial irrigation, south of Khartoum, upon an extended
scale must, for the present at all events, be abandoned, and all future
schemes devoted to those for the development of winter and flood
irrigation. This is no matter for serious regret. In the first place,
it appears probable that many of the more valuable crops, sudi as
cotton or sugar-cane, could be raised in these localities if planted
during the flood and irrigated throughout the winter. Should this
prove to be the case, then the problem has been solved. If not, then
the country must turn its attention to other produce suitable to the
periods when water is abundant. I have, in every report tiiat I have
written upon the Soudan, insisted that the true future of the areas
bordering the Blue Nile lies rather in the raising of cereals and food
crops than in cotton or sugar-cane. This opinion has been confirmed
as my knowledge of the country has increased. Both the Qhezira
and the Eastern Provinces appear to be eminently suited to the pro-
duction of wheat. Should this view prove to be correct, and I am
convinced that it will be so, then their future is assured as, with the
completion of the Nile-Red Sea Railway, the market for their produce
will he, so to speak, at their very door. The Hedjaz will certainly
take all the wheat (and probably the dhurra as well) that can be
poured into it from the Soudan, and, with the facilities for transport
that will be given by the railway, and by the new harbour at Port
Soudan, it should be possible to deliver this produce at almost any
port on the eastern coast of the Red Sea at a phce that will enable
the Soudan to compete successfully with India and other sources
of supply.
In order to introduce such a scheme of irrigation into the Soudan
upon a large scale, one or more barrages, or weirs, must be constructed
on the Blue Nile, somewhere between the point where it issues from
the hills and Khartoum. These works, which will raise the water-levds
of the river, must ^be accompanied by large distributary canals on
either bank. It is possible that a system of basins and cimals may be
found most suitable to the requirements of the country. In this
manner the fullest advantage could be taken of the flood-water, as
well as of the winter supply. Such basins, if covering a large area,
would render service to Egypt, by withdrawing a considerable volume
of water from the river when at its maximum, and thus reducing
the risk of disastrous floods in the northern Nile valley.
There are several minor projects connected with Soudan irriga-
tion, some of which are at present under study. Among these may
be instanced those for the utilisation of the flood-waters of the Gash,
Rahad, Dinder and Atbara, all of which are flood rivers, and dry
during the summer months. Want of space forbids me to do more
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1905 SOME PROBLEMS OF THE UPPER NILE 866
than mention them. Although the projects connected with the
Blue Nile are of considerable magnitude and will involve large ex-
penditure, none of them present any special diflSculties, or in any way
involve problems like those connected with the improvement of the
White Nile.
I trust I have made it clear that the future contains schemes, in
connection with the Nile, which, if realised, will dwarf all that has
hitherto been done in the direction of controlling and making use of
the waters of that river. The task before the irrigation engineers of
Egypt is no small one, and may almost be styled colossal. The more
this task is understood, the larger it seems. So far-reaching must it
be in its effects, and so disastrous might any misapprehension of the
issues at stake prove to be, that no amount of study must be grudged
in the preparation of the projects, and no scheine must be finally
adopted until the fullest amount of information possible to obtain
r^arding it has been collected. Such study will take time and will
cost money, but this is unavoidable. There is no question of hurry,
and no pressure, involving a commencement of the work before the
project has been thoroughly thought out and studied, must be permitted.
When, as in this case, projects are contemplated which mean inter-
ference with Nature upon an extended scale, it is advisable to marshal
for the contest every force and argument that can possibly render
service. Large, however, as the proposed undertakings will be,
none of them are impossible. If thoroughly studied beforehand, and
if the works once commenced be carried out resolutely and carefully,
without undue haste, but without undue slowness, then I feel confident
of their success. It is quite possible that the experience which must
be gained during the progress of the works may cause modifications
in many of their details, but there can be no change in the main
lines of the different projects if, as I have insisted upon, they have
been carefully thought out beforehand.
The expenditure of money must necessarily be very large, involving
many millions, but the records of irrigation works in Egypt have
given ample proof that such expenditure is highly remunerative,
and brings in a marvellously quick return. Should the programme
that I have attempted to sketch in these pages be successfully accom-
plished, very important results will have been secured.
Egypt will benefit by the extension of perennial irrigation through-
out the entire length and breadth of its river valley from Aswan to
the Mediterranean. A large portion of the Soudan will be restored
to a state of prosperity far exceeding that for which it was once
renowned. The rich floods of the Blue Nile, and its tributary rivers,
will be made use of to render fertile the tracts of country watered
by those streams, instead of passing through them without benefit as
is now the case. The deplorable waste of water in the dreary swamps
of the White Nile will be obviated, and the waters of Lake Albert will
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pass dawn nndiminiBlied to Egypt, where they will mean wealth to
the landowner, and g^den the heart of the tiller of the soil. Host
important of all, a control over the waters of the great river will
have been secured, from its sources to the sea, which will render it
possible to regulate its flow at all seasons, almost as easily and as
eff ectoally as if it were one of the great canab of the Egyptian irriga-
tion system.
Such results are, I venture to think, well worth striving for, even
if their attainment involves a large expenditure of money and perhaps
of life. The last item is, I fear, equally inevitable wit^ the former.
The extreme unhealthiness of the entire region in which these works
must be carried out, and the exposure to the climate at all' seasons
which their execution must entail to the working stafiE, will, I am
afraid, mean loss of health to many of those engaged upon them.
Even so, the object aimed at is worthy of such a sacrifice, and I
feel sure that no such considerations will deter En^ishmen from
coming forward and giving their services for the attainment of such
noble ends.
In conclusion, I will quote some words of Lord Cromer's, takea
from his latest report upon the finances and administration of Egypt.
His lordship lays stress upon the dose connection existing between
Egypt and the Soudan, and emphasises the dependency of the former
upon the latter country for its water supply : in other words, for its
existence.
He says:
The Sondan, far from being nseless, is a priceless possession to Egypt. It
was always sufficiently obvions that the (Power which held the headwaters of
the Nile commanded the Egyptian supply, and that— if the supply were to be
increased — the scene of action would have to be, not in Egypt itself^ but in the
most remote provinces of the Soudan.
I commend these words to all Egyptians.
W. E. Garstin.
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1906
THE DEFENCE OF INDIA
I OWB an apology to the readers of this inflnential Review for placing
before them the following observations. It may well be considered
extremely rash for a non-military man to express any opinion on suoh
a technical subject as the one which I propose to treat in this paper^
knowing, as I do, that the ablest men in the service of this Empire,
and some of the most instructed of our public writers have made the
subject a life-long study, and have devoted their most careful atten-
tion to it, more especially since the first Afghan war. For another
leason also an apology is, I think, due from me to my readers, since,
although acquainted with it from my childhood, the English language
is not my mother tongue, and it may perhaps be hazardous for me to
give expression to my thoughts and views in a language that is not
my own. My excuse for doing so is that for more than eight years I
have studied the question of the defence of India in its wider aspects
with great care, and I may add that I have read, and in some cases re-
read, most of the valuable books, articles, and despatches which
have at any time been published on the subject. Moreover, being
myself an Asiatic, I have not only had opportunities of visiting many
of the r^ons which form the landward boundaries of India to the
west, north, and east ; but I have regularly received from people in
those climes various kinds of information that do not ordinarily reach
the ears of the soldier or the statesman.
For the same reason I have had the good fortune of becoming
acquainted with the state of political affairs in Arabia, Persia, Meso-
potamia, Afghanistan, and Chinese Turkestan. Knowing the political
condition of the peoples of those countries, I have been irresistibly led
to the conclusion that the maintenance of British rule in India is of
vital necessity for the welfare of its 300 millions of people. It was
this conclusion which turned my attention to the interesting problem
how to safeguard India not only against foreign invasion, but also
against the equally dangerous process, in the long run, of the increase
of foreign moral influence within her borders. There are, if one care-
fully considers the matter, only two Powers which can ever really
dangerously threaten British rule in India : China and Russia. The
other European Powers in Asia, and also the Japanese, depend on the
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sea for their communications, and so long as British naval supremacy
is assured, they can never become sources of real danger to India.
The Asiatic States, with the exception of China, have, on the other
hand, neither the population nor the resources for ever becoming a
real menace to India. We will in this article assume that China is
going to remain asleep for several decades longer, and that her thoughts
will be given rather to maintaining her own independence than to
plans of aggression. We can make this assumption with the greater
readiness, because the long-predicted awakening of China may by
some special decree of Providence never come at all.
We may, therefore, devote all our attention to Russia, since she
alone has shown a desire to extend her dominions towards India. As
a rodent gnaws ceaselessly through every barrier and obstacle placed
in its path, and whenever disturbed or interrupted, stops gnawing
for a time only to resume it with all the greater vigour — so Russia
has gnawed her way through Central Asia, drawing ever nearer and
nearer to the frontiers of India. One of the favourite methods in
this process with which we have become familiar has been the sending
of ' scientific expeditions ' to the regions marked down for conquest.
Another has been the employment of natives of the country coveted
for the purpose of weakening its indigenous Government, and then
when the fruit had become ripe to pluck it. Sometimes, indeed, as
on ' the bloody day of Qeok Tepe,' Russia has advanced with a big
army ; but, although the method has varied, the result has been the
same, and it has gratified Russia's tremendous desire to come south-
wards, and right on to the Indian frontier.
Those who in any way have taken part in the discussion on the
question of our relations with Russia in Asia may be divided, roughly
speaking, into two main classes. Each of these classes may consist
of several subdivisions differing from each other in questions of detail,
but we need only concern ourselves with the two main bodies enun-
ciating opposing principles. The first is composed of those who
advocate a ' forward policy ' so that the boundaries of Russia in Central
Asia may become contiguous to those of the British Empire of India
on the west and north ; and, perhaps, also, on the north-east. In
India these persons are known as favouring what is called ^ a running
frontier * with Russia.
The second class of authorities advocate the interpolation of a
wide neutral zone — really independent buffer States — between the
possessions of Russia and the boundaries of India proper. I frankly
confess that I belong to the latter class, and I will here state my
reasons for this, briefly, but without any reservation.
It must ever be remembered that the position of England in India
is essentially and fimdamentally different from that of the French
Qovemment in France, or of the German in Germany, or even of the
Russian Government in Central Asia. The Power that rules in France
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and Grennany is not alien to the people. The nation in those countries,
if dissatisfied with its Government, whether it be a confederation of
dynasties as in Germany or a Republic as in France, can change it
and set up some fresh system. But in such cases it would always be
only the form of the Government and the personnel of the administra-
tion that would be changed. Without going into the question of a
'social contract' on which some philosophers based the origin of
every Grovemment, it is enough for our purpose to say that the
indigenous government of every country must owe its origin, or is
assumed to owe its origin, to the expressed or implied consensus of
its people, or of the large majority of them. The Government which
exercised authority in England after the Norman conquest may at
its inception have been foreign ; but in the course of centuries the
ralers and the ruled have become welded and fused into one people
and one nation. Thus to-day it cannot be said that the ruling dynasty
in Great Britain is a foreign dynasty, or that Great Britain is governed
by foreign rulers. Similarly the Hapsburgs, the HohenzoUems, and
the Romanoffs, and in Persia the Eajjars, and in China the Manchus,
may or may not have been foreigners in those countries when they
began to rule ; but now not one of those States can be considered to
be under foreign rule in the sense in which India is at the present
time. The present rulers of India have found themselves therein
either by conquest, or by force of circumstances, or by the will of
Providence, but certainly not by the will of its peoples.
Nor is there any likelihood of the rulers and the ruled, within the
next few centuries, becoming fused or welded into one nation or one
people in the European sense of the words. To begin with, there is
no Indian nation at present, and even if in time the peoples of the
country get fused into a single nation, they will differ too much in
colour, race, and climatic characteristics ever to become one with
their English fellow subjects. For the last half century a belief has
been gaining ground in this congeries of races, which has now deepened
into a conviction with the majority, that alien as the British rule is
in India, it is the best of all the governments that the country has
ever possessed, and that under its tutelage India has prospered, and
its peoples advanced in a manner unapproached during any period of
the past. Beyond a doubt the majority of the Indian peoples are con-
vinced of the benefits of British rule, and feel devoted loyalty to the
person of their Emperor.
But among 300 millions of people, there must be naturally some
who from motives of self-interest or through sheer folly, or false ideas
of nationalism, or merely from a desire for change and variety — since
the present reign of law must appear to some as dreadfully dull — could
be seduced from their loyalty to an alien Government, and would
fall easy victims to the intrigues or the specious promises of Russia,
if once that coimtry became a neighbour of India, and if its railways
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were muted witii the Indian lines. It mnst be remembered that the
Rnfisian official daeses are perfect adepts in intrigue, and that they
would be profuse in making promises as to a coming millennium for
all Asiatic races under Russia. Even already some Russian intriguers
who have reached India have promised the establishment of a thousand
native dynasties.
But even if Russia did not lend herself to intrigue, her very pre-
sence on the other side of the boundaries of India would be a disturbing
element, for it would unsettle the native mind and create new hopes
and new aspirations. It was Lord Dalhousie who said : * We enjoy
peace because we are strong.* This remark is as true to-day as it
was more than half a century ago. But the causes of strength are
not merely military, moral, and economical. One main cause is the
absence of another strong and rival Power in the inmiediate vicinity,
and having its boundaries contiguous to those of India. Russia, in
Central Asia, has but 10 millions of Asiatics to govern, while England
in India has 300 millions. Knowing what Russia is, I say that if her
territory lay immediately on the other side of the Indian frontier, it
would prove a very hotbed for fostering sedition and disloyalty in
India. Moreover, the constant and unrestrained intercourse that
would necessarily follow between that territory and India would result
in the spreading of such sedition and disIoyiJty tiiroughout India as
might lead to constant troubles, and eventually to the weakening of
the authority of the British Grovemment, and possibly even to its
overthrow.
For these reasons certain regions west, north, and east of India
should be kept as buffers between that country and Russia, and
Russia should be made to understand distinctiy that any overstepping
of the limits which may be thus set to her ambition would be treated
as a casus bdU, and would be followed by hostilities. Qreat Britain
should also make up her mind to fight once for all to keep Russia out
of the neutral zone or buffer region.
What are the regions that we must keep Russia out of ! Since
the object of keeping her away from these regions is not essentially
military, but rather fundamentally to prevent her disturbing India,
we must carefully consider what are the lands that do influence Indian
thought, and that are near enough to be frequented by Indians. For
reasons lustorical as well as geographical, because these lands have
been closely associated with the destinies of India, I would suggest
that the regions to be kept as a neutral zone should b^in with Meso-
potamia in the extreme west, and include the Shat-ul-Arab, the Hassa,
and Oman along the western shore of the Persian Gulf. Coming
further east, the whole of Persia, south of Azerbaijan, Teheran, and
Ehorassan, forms an essential part of the buffer region, as also does
the kingdom of A^hanistan. I would also include the southern
districts of the present province of Chinese Turkestan with the im-
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portant towns of Yaikand and Ehotan, Thibet, and lastly the two ^
Chinese provinces of Szechuan and Tnnnan«
I have now named the teiritories which it appears to me to be
necessary to preserve as a neutral zone for the seoniity of India.
Possibly these may be considered too extensive, and a more restricted
area may be deemed sufficient, and certainly it may be allowed that
some of the regions indicated can be left untouched and undefined for
tiiie present. But whatever is considered necessary and sufficient
should be declared * a neutral zone ' after due deliberation by England
as a whole, and not by a single party, and the Empire should unani-
mously accept that decision as a sort of Monroe Doctrine for Asia to
be defended and enforced at all hazards by * war from pole to pole '
(to use the words of the great and distinguished author of Russia in
Central Asia) against any European Power that directly or indirectly
sought to predominate over any part of the zone thus defined.
However, England, in order to enforce the policy of a neutral
zone, must herself observe the self-denying ordinance, and not allow
herself to be led by the advocates of a forward policy, or those officers
who are tired of Afghan arrogance and Persian and Chinese pusil-
lanimity, into acquiring a predominant position in any part of the
neutral zone under one pretext or another. If, for example, instead
of interfering with the affairs of Afghanistan, and constantly fretting
because we have no railways and no politicals in that country, or seek-
ing to forcibly extend * influence ' there, we took care to inform its
ruler and people that we should be ready to defend them if attacked
by any foreign Power, but that otherwise we should let their country
severely alone, and that we were resolved to follow the policy which
in Lord Lawrence's time was known as 'masterly inactivity,' we
should inspire them with confidence and win their friendship. Surely
it was a man without the sense of humour who evolved the principle
of forcing people into friendship, as advocated by some of the forward
school. Again a want of knowledge of human nature is evident in
people who maintain that Orientals respect only such men and Powers
as bully them. Passionate though silent hatred, not respect, is the
consequence of the high-handed use of force, and the breaking up of
treaties, even amongst Oriental peoples.
The conquest and acquisition by England of territories beyond
India proper is far more dangerous to us than the absorption of those
lands by Russia would be. In the first place, we should have to
fight the invader far away from our natural base, which is in itself a
great drawback, as has been demonstra.ted by history both modem
and ancient. Secondly, the population of the conquered countries
would be at heart hostile to us ; for though their Governments might
be bad, they were in a sense national Governments, and they would
make common cause with the invader, however foolish and short-
sighted such a course might appear, just to get revenge on those who
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had upset their national institutions. These annexations would even
furnish a further cause of moral disturbance in India, and in time of
trouble they would supply the dangerous elements of Indian society
with material to work upon. To my mind the right policy is to insist
that the territories constituting the neutral zone should remain in-
violate, and free from aggression by any Power, and that they should
be independent in fact and in name. The policy that I advocate is
precisely the same as that pursued by the United States towards
the South American Republics. If we consistently follow this policy,
if the Conservative party will dissociate itself from the extreme ' for-
ward school ' that wants to turn Afghanistan into a * native State,*
and southern Persia into a 'Malay State,' if the Liberal party will
sever its policy from the ultra-altruists who invite Russia to the
doors of India — ^then the would-be invader of India would, in the
first place, have to subjugate portions of the neutral zone before
advancing upon India, and their populations would naturally fight for
their own freedom, and to that extent would be our allies and fight
our battles. Then our assistance would be received with gratitude,
and without any suspicion of our good faith.
Another absolutely important reason for our pursuing the policy
of neutral zones and buffer States, and of preventing the extension
of either the Russian or the British Empire till they meet, is that
while our present army in India is nearly — though not quite — suf-
ficient for our needs, it would, in the case of a 'running frontier,'
require to be at least three times its actual strength. Although she
had only the extreme eastern frontier of Russia as her neighbour,
Japan kept a force of a million men ready. The Imperial forces in
India all told are now less than a quarter of a million. If we trebled
the army in India, we should have to treble the European troops as
well as the native sepoys. To find men for that purpose would be a
feat that no Herculean Secretary of State for War could do without a
tremendous increase of pay for Mr. Tommy Atkins. But even assuming
that men for such an enormously increased English army were by
great increase of pay to be found, who, out of a lunatic asylum, would
venture to say that India could bear the strain of a trebled military
budget ?
If any India within our powers of conception could not pay for
the increased army that would thus have become necessary not
through any fault of its own, but because its rulers had chosen to
extend their conquests beyond its frontiers, without allowing the
peoples of India a voice in the matter, would the British taxpayers
consent to contribute a mere bagatelle of some 25 or 30 millions
sterling a year ? It would be the men sent out indirectly by the
British taxpayers to govern India that would decree and make these
new conquests, and theirs would be the doubtful honour and glory
thereof, and theirs the responsibility and liability of retaining and
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1906 THE DEFENCE OF INDIA 373
safeguarding the new conquests. I who have lived in England off
and on for many years, and even went out of my way to study not
only the ruling dasses but the taxpayer, the man par excellence who,
personally unknown, is yet the mainstay of the Empire — I know the
average British taxpayer fairly well. He will ungrudgingly pay for
a predominating navy, and will give, perhaps with a wry face, the
necessary millions for a jtist sufficient army. But, I think, when a
new annual bill of 30 millions sterling was presented to him, he would
curse the people who had taken his peaceful Indian frontier up to the
menacing lines of Russia, and he would refuse to pay this enormous
and senseless fine.
India could not pay for the increased military expenditure, and
John Bull would not.
Even if the present system of voluntary enlistment were replaced
by conscription, such a change would not mend matters. To begin
with, it is doubtful if a conscript army would ever do garrison work on
foreign soil, thousands of miles distant from home and friends. Secondly
a conscript army must be a short-service army, and the increased
portion of the British army would be needed not in England, but oppo-
site the Russian lines on the Asiatic frontier. As it is, with a com-
paratively long-service army, the waste and expense of transport is
enormous, and once real short service of two years was introduced,
as would have to be done on the adoption of conscription, then the
constant change of drafts would become such a terrible waste, for it
would be annual, that miUions would be thrown away in merely
bringing and taking away the troops to and from India. Above all,
even limited conscription is not yet popular amongst the English
masses, and though, I think, for home defence it would be a good
thing, still, a conscript army in India would, I am persuaded, be
f oimd impossible.
We are thus forced back to the policy of a neutral zone and buffer
States. But, as I have already said, such a policy must be honestiy
and disinterestedly carried out, and above all must be rigidly enforced
i^[ainst every delinquent. For the successful carrying out of such a
policy, we require, though a much smaller force than for the other
policy of a 'running frontier' with Russia, a thoroughly efficient
army, and also the proper husbanding of the fighting forces of India.
We are exceptionally lucky in having at this moment one of the
greatest of European soldiers, and one of the ablest organisers the
world has seen since Camot, in Lord Kitchener at the head of the
Indian army. If he is given a free hand, and, above all, left in India
long enough to finish his great work (for even he can do Uttle if he has
to vacate his post after five short years), then, with a comparatively
small increase in the expense of the Indian army, we shall have a
force well able to carry out the policy of maintaining neutral zones
beyond India.
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Besides the legolar army maintained at the oost of British India,
there is a great deal of fighting material and other resources in India
which are at present absolutely frittered away. I refer to the thousands
of men in uniform shouldering antiquated weapons, who are kept up
hj the native States. These States are protected from attack by each
other, and also against foreign invasion, by the strong arm of the
Indian Government. Under these circumstances it is utterly useless
and extravagant to maintain these unorganised and undisciplined
hordes. These States pay a small tribute to the Indian Qovemment,
totally disproportionate to the expense they would have had to incur
for the maintenance of an army sufficientiy strong to make them secure
against attack by their neighbours or by a foreign Power, as weU as
to the outlay of the Indian Government directiy and indirectiy for
that purpose.
The Indian Government in common fairness to the British Indian
taxpayer should order these useless hordes to be disbanded* Some
portion of these troops do police duty ; but for ihis they should be
replaced by regular and recognised policemen and gendarmes. For
the serious business of the defence of India against foreign invasion,
which is as much a duty and a necessity for the native States as it is
for the Indian Government, every State must be made to keep a certain
number of Imperial Service troops in proportion to its revenue, and
also no troops but those for Imperial Service should be permitted.
These corps should be considered part of the regular army, and plaoed
imder the commander-in-chiei Their headquarters, however, should
be left in the States that pay for their maintenance, and the respective
corps should carry the emblems of their princely houses. Every
year they ought to be exercised and brigaded with the British army,
and they should have on the establi^mient European inspectors.
The regimental officers of all grades should be appointed from native
nobles who had been trained in the Imperial Cadet Corps. The troops
of the native States thus reorganised would be a material addition of
strength to the fighting power of the country, and would, there is littia
doubt, acquit themselves in actual war against a foreign foe with as
much credit as the regular army.
This very question was raised in the Supreme Legislative Council
some years ago, but nothing seems to have come out of the discussion.
As probably nine out of every ten chiefe would heartily approve of
such a patriotic change, which would increase their importance and
usefulness, it is high time that the question should be seriously taken
up by approaching the native States in a proper and definite manner.
Perhaps a committee composed of several princes who can 'think
imperially,' some civilians, two or three military officers^ and perhaps
a few independent individuals not in the services, might be formed to
make a scientific and thorough study of the question, and prepare a
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1905 THE DEFENCE OF INDIA 376
scheme for the effective utilisation of the annies of the native States
in the defence of India.
The spirit of the ruling chiefe of India is, I think, made clearly
apparent by an anecdote relating to one of the greatest and most
powerful of her ruling princes^ which I venture to repeat. It was at
the time of the last Delhi Durbar, that one morning I saw H.H.
Maharaja Scindia of Qwalior riding with a single trooper in close
attendance. In answer to a casual question from me as to whether
the trooper was one of the Imperial Service troops, his Highness
replied that ' all his troops, without any distinction, were for Imperial
Service, and that he himself was an Imperial soldier.'
I am afraid I have already trespassed too much on the patience
of my readers ; but I feel that I owe a duty to both India and England,
coimtrieB that seem, by Providence, to be so designed that their
welfare and happiness can only be complete when they are thoroughly
united. I have pointed out what I consider the greatest danger to
OUT Indian Empire — ^namely, the extension of the frontier up to that
of Russia. I am firmly convinced that the British Empire is the
* greatest secular' institution on earth, and that the happiness of
hondieds of millions not of the British races is bound up with that
Empire. We pray its rulers not to allow the great question of its
flopremacy in Southern Asia to be lost sight of in the midst of party
warfare.
Aga Khan.
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A PLEA FOR A MINISTRY OF FINE ARTS
It has been lecognised and acknowledged for yeais that our lack
of system in the management of our national Art affairs has been a
very material disadvantage. There has been waste of opportunity
and waste of energy ; and in the result the importance of Art such
as the Grovemment expends vast sums upon fostering has been too
Uttle impressed upon the minds of the people. For want of a central
control there has been constant collision of interests, with overlapping
and the like, joined to a relative inefficiency and occasional paralysis
of effective action due to dissipation of effort and to absence of a
supreme authority.
Indeed, it would be difficult to name a national interest of which the
administration is in so chaotic, or at least in so confused and dislocated,
a condition. That administration is so dispersed, yet so inter-inde-
pendent, so divided between hostile or at the least non-sympathetic
departments, so shared by private bodies and irresponsible individual
activity, that the word 'administration' should hardly be used to
describe it. The fact is so patent and so widely admitted that when
a few months ago I wrote a short article in the Burlington Magazine
advocating the creation of a Ministry of Fine Arts the proposal was
discussed and, without a dissentient voice, approved in principle by
some of the chief organs of public opinion. The question is whether
the protection that might be exercised by such a department would
not foster the arts as effectively in this country as they are encouraged
and nurtured abroad. The proposal is almost unanimously approved by
the body politic of artists, who, versed in the history of their craft, are
convinced that the periods of the finest Art and of the greatest pro-
sperity for the artist have been passed under direct State encourage-
ment, whether of autocrat or of corporate government. For my
part I had for many years shared the opinions of those who are mis-
trustful of State interference, persuaded mainly by foreign critics
who were dissatisfied by the results of official control in their own
countries. * You may thank your stars,' they said, * that you have no
officially approved Art, no Governmental tyranny, no departmental
dictation and patronage, no Minister to appear — either himself or
by deputy — at the inauguration of every exhibition, of every museum.
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gallery, or other Art building, repeating the same official utterances
on each occasion, stamping the same style of architecture on every
city of the Empire, distributing among the departmental museums
and municipal galleries the same sort of vast Salon pictures which are
executed only to catch the official eye and draw upon the Ministerial
purse. Our Art is tied hand and foot, and patronage is accorded
to the wrong men. In Great Britain art is free ; you have to profess
no " school " ; you develop naturally ; you are not " encouraged " to
do violence to youi convictions, or forced by official opinion away from
your natural bent ; and so you express yourselves and the character
of the people with truth and freedom, unentangled by the apron-strings
of your foster grandmother, the eternal State.'
The argument has been considered not without force if not alto-
gether unanswerable, and some have adopted what has been regarded
as ' the French view.' But experience has shown that it is the view
mainly of the malcontents — of a small minority of artists who have
reasons for being opposed to the special working rather than to the
basic principle of a Ministry of Fine Arts ; for everybody recognises
that, apart from the debatable question of direct patronage of artists,
the administration of the Fine Arts, which is so considerable a factor
m the national education and refinement of France and in her com-
mercial prosperity, could not adequately be prosecuted on logical
and economic lines without a scientifically planned scheme, carefully
devised, well balanced, sjonmetrical, and systematic.
Mistrust of Governmental control is, I find, the main objection
raised to the proposed Ministry by those who, agreeing with it in
principle, recognise the necessity of some such creation. It is
curiously personal. With what Minister, they ask, would you entrust
the encouragement of national taste ; or, at least, into whose hands
would you confide the well-being of Art 1 Who is the man you would
be satisfied to set up in the House of Conmions, or in the Lords, to
construct and defend an Art poUcy ? Is it a matter for a poUtician
at all ? Even if you can find one such man, or two, do you feel satis-
fied in the light of past experience that a succession of capable Ministers
would be forthcoming, equipped with the qualifications essential for
an office that calls for capacity of a subtle and deUcate kind ? We
may perhaps hesitate with our answer when we remember how not
long ago the late Lord Salisbury in the House of Lords and Sir William
Vernon Harcourt in the Commons delighted their hearers with sarcastic
allusions to Mr. Norman Shaw's ' New Scotland Yard,' one of the
finest examples of architectural art which had for a long time been
.erected in the metropolis. The dignified protest against these
sallies made jointly by the heads of the profession may have undone
some of the mischief wrought by the light-hearted and uninformed
criticisms of Prime Minister and ex-Cabinet Minister ; but the feeling
doubtless remains that the interests of Art could not safely be entrusted
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to the hands of a non-appieoiatiye statesman who would lareat it as
a plaything. To this objection the reply is easy, and the difficulty,
as I shall presently show, can be surmounted in a simple and logical
fashion.
At a time when the directorship of three of our most important
national museums has been under discussion we will do well to consid^
the whole question in all its bearings. The National Gallery lost
its Director automatically at the end of last year, and at the present
time of writing — nearly eight months later — the vacimcy has not yet
been fiUed. The directorship of the Art Museum of South Kensington
has been won by the natural successor to the post, the Assistant
Director, Mr. A. B. Skinner. The headship of the British Museum,
with its art collections, vast in extent and supreme in importance,
will soon require consideration. All these appointments are in the
gift of different authorities*
In respect to the National GkiUery, a section of the public, led
by men who should be better informed, has been clamouring for the
abolition of the post of Director and the re-estabUshment of the
Keepershlp in supreme authority. But it was precisely because it
was proved by exhaustive inquiry that the system of administration
by Keeper had hopelessly broken down * that the office of * keeper
and secretary * was substituted, and that the directorship was esta-
blished.^ The Trustees were maintained in order that they might
be the link between the responsible Director and the public ; but
their authority has since grown, mainly through the Treasury Minute
issued on the death of Sir Frederic Burton, and we have had the
spectacle of a Director whose powers were in a measure clipped, while
the Trustees, or certain of them, assumed an authority that was
never contemplated under the reconstitution.
A condition of afEairs far more unsatisfactory has prevailed
at South Kensington. When as a result of the Parliamentary In-
quiry (1897-8) the Science and Art Department was first turned
inside out and then suppressed, the Victoria and Albert Museum
was transferred to the Board of Education. We have since had the
spectacle of the rise and dictation of the secretarial department which
has assumed such rigorous control that the authority of the Art
Director has very seriously diminished ; so that we have witnessed
a disturbing symptom of the result in the retirement of its brilliant
chief. Sir Caspar Purdon Clarke, within a short period of the time
when he could have claimed his pension and a well-earned rest,
in favour of foreign and more enlightened service. Turning to
the National Galleries of Ireland and Scotland we find a similar
dissatisfaction with the existing rSgime, and, we may safely deduoej
> See Report of iU Select Committee on the National Gallery 1 1868.
^ See Treasury Minute, dated the 27th of March 1855, reconstituting the establish-
ment of the National Gallery.
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a desire to see a more leasonable interpretation of those conditions
under which Art estabUshments can be expected to flourish and
satisfy the demands of the pubUc need.
There is no doubt that the suggested co-ordination to which I
shall presently come seems to present enormous obstacles. The
main difficulty Hes in the variety and in many instances the multi-
plicity of control at present existing. There is parUamentary control,
financial (or Treasury) control, local control. Let us examine some
of these points and see how they may be dealt with, establishing,
as it were, a common denominator with a view to creating a new
public Department which shall not unnecessarily dislocate present
arrangements where they are sound, or interfere unduly with the
various departments that at present exercise authority. I say
this in the belief that for the sake of simplicity it may be expedient
to rearrange rather than to establish a vast brand-new department
ab ovo. It would doubtless be better to imitate the French and set
up a Ministry of Fine Arts without paying any heed to the outcry
that would follow the abscissions and segregations involved; but,
after all, we must recognise that while the French are eminently
logical in their procedure, and when they start on sound premisses
eminently successful, we are by nature haphazard in our ordering,
and as casual and fortuitous in our growth as the metropoUs itself,
and we constitutionally prefer to tinker where we ought to reconstruct.
If we consider these various controls and divided responsibiUties
we shall have some measure of the difficulties before us and of the
need for reform. The National Gallery, the National Portrait Gallery,
the British Museum, the Wallace Collection, and the Tate Gallery,
with their directors, are regulated by their respective trustees, who
constitute the local control — the Tate Gallery being attached to the
National Gallery. The financial control lies with the Secretary to the
Treasury, and the final control, of course, as in nearly all cases, is with
Parliament. The local control of the National Gcdlery of Ireland is
with the Chief Secretary, while that of Scotland (regulated likewise
by a board of trustees) is in the hands of the Secretary for Scotland.
That is to say, that the National Gallery of Scotland, the Scottish
National Portrait Gallery, and the School of Art in the Royal Insti-
tution, are primarily under that 'Board of Manufacturers ' which official
authority has lately so vigorously denounced. The Victoria and Albert
Museum and its dependent branch at Bethnal Green, with its Consulta-
tive Committee, are under the Board of Education ; while the Art
teaching conducted there is managed by local authority, also xmder the
Board of Education. The most important ' local control ' of all is the
Office of Works, which has jurisdiction over the fabrics of most of our
public Government buildings, the artistic element in which is of out-
standing importance. In this respect it controls the War Office, the
Admiralty, the Bntiah Museum (exterior), the Local Government Board,
c c 2
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380 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Sept.
the Savings Bank, the Victoria and Albert Museum and Science Schools,
the new Admiralty extension, and the Post Offices, the Customs Houses,
and County Courts throughout the country, and most of the public
statues, parks, and gardens in the metropolis. It is indeed, to an
extent far greater thitn most people realise, one of our great spending
departments, and its works are always before the eye of the public.
Moreover its influence, exercised in a quiet and unostentatious manner,
is often exerted to public advantage. An example in point will be
of interest. The great site on which St. James's Hall recently stood
is in the control of the department of Woods and Forests. The
designs of the great hotel there to be erected, to face Piccadilly and
Regent Street, had been accepted, but on being submitted by consent
to the First Commissioner of the Office of Works, at present happily
directed by a man who is gifted with a fine artistic taste, they were
adjudged unsatisfactory, and in the result Mr. Norman Shaw was
requested to redesign the fa9ade and revise the plans. The matter
is of the greater importance, as the whole quadrant is doomed to
demolition before long, and the new buildings now in hand will
give the note to those in due time to be erected to complete the vast
scheme.
To proceed. Under the Office of Works are the Ancient Monu-
ments, the Treasury under Parliament being the ultimate control ;
so too Greenwich and Chelsea Hospitals, the former of which, how-
ever, is regulated by the Governors. From this point matters become
more complex ; for while it equally controls the Tower of London,
Hampton Court, Edinburgh Castle, Walmer Castie, and Holyrood
Palace, all or nearly all of which may be regarded partiy as museums,
the Tower and Edinburgh Castle belong as fortresses to the War
Office, and Hampton Court and Holyrood, as Royal palaces, to the
Eing. And all the while these public monuments are under Treasury
and parliamentary jurisdiction, with the exception, I believe, of Hamp-
ton Court and Holyrood, of which the nominal control is in the
hands of the King.
Similar complications are to be seen elsewhere when the patronage
of architecture is considered. The Post Office buildings and Customs
buildings, though in the occupation of other departments, are in the
charge of the Office of Works ; but the Home Office buildings in
respect of police are in the charge of the Home Office. Barracks are
exclusively a War Office matter. Municipal buildings are under purely
local authority, while buildings under Woods and Forests are subject
to the actual control of two Conmiissioners, with the ultimate control
of the Treasury and of Parliament.
With this condition of things — so far I have not touched upon
all — let us compare an existing Ministry of Fine Arts which after
much opposition and repeated delays was at length triumphantly
established, and is now in its completeness a model for the world.
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I do not propose that any attempt should be made to rival or even
imitate so vast an organisation, although I do advocate the founding
of a big department under a competent Minister, for which legislation
would certainly be required ; nor do I suggest that we should be
called upon to spend more than a fraction of the sum that is expended
by the Beaux-Arts in France. With us it would be rather a trans-
ference of votes of supply than the creation of new votes, although
a certain amount of money would undoubtedly have to be called for.
After all it is not so much a question, ' Will it cost more ? ' as ' Will
it create greater efficiency, produce greater value for the amount
spent, and add to the refinement and enjoyment of life ? ' In France
it has admittedly proved to the people the value of Art, its moral
value in education, its aesthetic value in public taste, and its cash
value in commerce. Surely we should not be insensible to the last-
mentioned at least of these advantages !
The scheme on which the French Ministry of Fine Arts is based
is extraordinarily complete, including in its purview music and the
theatre, which need not here be taken into account. It comprises
the following main sections :
(1) Art Works^ including the decoration and ornamentation
of public buildings; the erection of statues and grants for public
monuments ; commissions and acquisition of works of art, whether
painting, sculpture, medal-work, gem-engraving, line-engraving,
etching, lithography, &c. (for these are all 'encouraged' by the
State) ; the distribution of these works among various establish-
ments, schools, Sco, other than museums ; the acquisition and dis-
tribution of French and foreign statuary ; modelling and mouldings
for public buildings ; commission and acquisition of copies for esta-
blishments other than museums ; travelling and missions ; travelling
pcholarships &c. ; annual payments, charity, grants, and encourage-
ment to painters, sculptors, engravers, and their families.
(2) Teaching. — ^The Academic de France in Rome ; the National
School of Fine Arts in Paris ; national schools of decorative art in
Paris and the provinces ; the National School of Drawing for girls
in Paris ; the National Schools of Fine Arts of Lyons, Dijon, Bourges,
and Algiers, and similar municipal schools in the provinces ; inspec-
tion of drawing and design, and its musemn.
(3) Museums and Exhibitions. — ^The National Museinns — the
Louvre, Luxembourg, Versailles, and Saint Qermain ; acquisitions
for these museums and the regulation and audit of expenses ; depart-
mental and municipal museums ; distribution among them of Art
purchases made by the State ; subventions towards the publication
and distribution of works on Art (books, reproductions, engravings,
&c.) ; the custody of Art works ; the Biblioth^que Nationale — the
print-room and collection of medals ; publication of an inventory
of Art treasures in France ; the annual Art congress of provincial
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382 TEE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Sept.
societies at the Sorbonne and publication of the transactions ; Art
exhibitions in Paris and the provinces.
(4) Historical Monuments. — Co-operation with the Commission of
Historical and Megalithio Monuments for studying and determining
classification, the restoration of buildings, and determination of relative
share of grants; control of work and expenditure; co-operation
with various administrations for the restoration or maintenance of
historical monuments throughout France and imder various control ;
acquisitions and expropriations; archaeological missions; archives
(drawings, engravings, and photography) ; library ; publications ;
exhibitions; the Museum des Thermes and the Climy Museum;
museums of comparative sculpture.
(5) Theatres. — ^No details need be given of this section.
(6) National Manufactures. — Consideration of the proposals by
the administrators of the National Art manufactories of Sevres,
Gobelins, and Beauvais ; preparation of Ministerial decisions, orders,
and minutes in respect of them ; apportionment of their grants and
control of expenditure ; sale of the works produced by these manufac-
tories ; measures for improvements in the Sevres and Gobelins manu-
factories ; works in mosaic ; exhibitions ; competitions for prizes in
respect of Sevres and Gobelins.
(7) Public CivU Buildings. — Consideration of designs presented
by architects; preparation of estimates, parliamentary biUs, and
decrees ; expropriations in the public interest ; protests and petitions ;
authorisation of expenditure; execution and supervision of the
works.
(8) National Palaces. — Consideration of architects' proposals;
commissions of works of Art ; fountains at Versailles, Marly, Meudon,
and St. Cloud; preparation of estimates, parliamentary bills, and
decrees, A;c. 4o. as above.
. (9) Palace Furniture dkc. and Administration. — ^The Garde-Meuble,
furnishing and maintenance of the same ; installations for fetes and
official ceremonies ; inventory and control of occasional redistribution
of furniture &o. ; administration ; garde-meuble and supervision
of palaces, parks, and gardens ;. authorisation of expenditure ; uni-
forms and equipment of the civil and military staff.
Now these * services ' represent but the headings of sections of the
administration of Fine Arts, and the duties are so clearly defined that
there is no overlapping of any kind. They are controlled each by its
special Council : that which has chief significance for us is the ConseU
supSrieur des Beatix-Arts, for it is with such a Coimcil (although not
numerically so important) that in the case of the department I pro-
pose the Minister of Fine Arts would invariably be called upon to act.
The French Council under the presidency of the Minister was appointed
by the decree of the 30th of July 1884 to consist of fifty-two members : '
• Originally thirty-two members : eight ex officio^ twenty-four annual.
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fourteen ex officio members and thirty-eight ammal members appointed
hj the President. Its composition was as follows : Ex officio membeia
— ^The Minister, with the Under-Secretary of State and the Director
of Fine Arts as vice-presidents ; the Prefect of the Seine ; the Secre-
tary of the Academy of Fine Arts ; the Director of Civil Buildings
{b&Hments dvUs) ; the Inspector-Qeneral of the Teaching of Design ; the
Vice-President of the Commission of Historical Monuments ; the Ad-
ministrator of National Museums and the Keeper of the Luxembourg ;
the Directors of the Ecole des 6eaux*Arts, of the Conservatoire of Music,
and of the School of Decorative Arts ; the Commis8aire-66n6ral of
Kne Art Exhibitions and the President of the Society of French Artists
(the * Old Salon '). The annual members were made up as follows 9
twelve artists from within or without the Institut de France ; that is
to say, six painters, two sculptors, two architects, one engraver, and
one musician ; one member of the French Academy ; one member of
the Academy of Inscriptions and Belles-Lettres ; two members of the
Higher Council of Public Instruction ; two senators, two deputies,
and one State Councillor ; one member from each of the higher councils
ot Sevres and Qobelins ; two representatives of the industrial arts ;
one inspector of Fine Arts ; ten persons selected for their general
knowledge of Art matters ; and two secretaries with voting powers
chosen from among the personnel of the Central Administration of
Fine Arts.
Thus except for the exclusion of the Academy of Sciences, whose
interests are in one direction so closely allied to the applied arts,
every artistic body and every interest they severally connote are
represented on this great advisory council. The proportions of the
constitution may be open to criticism ; indeed it is admittedly open
to modification from time to time ; but on the deliberations and
decisions of such a body a Minister may well feel himself able and
entitled to place full reliance. The system may be said to work well :
the result in practice is naturally not up to expectations based upon
theory, for such is not humanly possible. We need but look to the
state of the arts in France, to the healthy contention, vigorous criti-
cism, and commercial prosperity, to recognise that the general vital
organisation — ^which is in no way to be held responsible for the de-
cadence existing in certain phases of Art induced by national psycho-
logical phenomena such as no administration or organisation can
afiect — ^is productive of infinite benefit to the point of keeping alive
certain arts now thriving which otherwise would have languished
and perhaps have disappeared altogether. For example, the success-
ful and accomplished young engraver receives from his Government
commissions sufficient to encourage him to prosecute his art ; with
us engraving is dying in certain directions, dead in others. In France
when a young sculptor has quitted the schools with credit he is
entrusted with commissions, sometimes with a statue of some worthy
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of his native place. With us he too often has to content himself, if
he is lucky, with designing cups (as often as not anonymously) for silver-
smiths, or ornaments for the potters, or resign himself to the position
of assistant to a sculptor more fortunate than himself, or of modeller or
moulder to some firm of statuaries. How often, with us, are pictures
acquired by the Government, decorative works and patriotic frescoes
conmiissioned for public buildings, statues and monuments set up
throughout the country, medals struck to commemorate contemporary
history ? All these things are being continuously done in France,
and public interest in the arts, as well as the artist, sjrstematically
encouraged and kept alive.
It is not necessary to enlarge upon the constitution of the services j
of which the mere skeletons have here been indicated, otherwise
than to say that each is elaborated with the greatest care, and logically
developed covers the ground it professes to deal with thoroughly
and satisfactorily. Let us, however, take one example — ^the single
line under the heading ' Museums and Exhibitions,' already quoted,
which runs, ' Art Exhibitions in Paris and the Provinces.' This bare
entry is elaborated thus : —
Art Exhibitions.
Section 1 : National Exhibitions.
A. The Salons, i. State intervention as to locale of exhibition and the
provision of suitable buildings, ii. Acquisitions made by the State for presen-
tation to the Luxembourg ftc. (to be exhibited together for public information
and criticism at the dose of the exhibition). iiL Awards : (a) the Prix du Salon ;
(h) travelling prises worth £160 each.
B. Triennial exhibitions (as arranged in 1888), consisting only of the finest
works available.
G. Various exhibitions, i. Designs and photographs of historical monu-
ments (the expression used in its widest sense), ii. National manufactures:
works produced at Sevres, Qobelins, and Beauvais. iii. Other exhibitions:
(a) exhibition of the decorative arts ; (&) technological exhibition of industrial
arts ; (c) exhibitions at the Ecole des Beaux- Arts.
Section 2. International exhibitions
Section 8. Universal exhibitions (an elaborately constituted department
which cannot be described here).
Section 4. Provincial exhibitions. State participation, by loans of works,
grants, and awards.
Of all of these services^ however, there is none which is more
admirably planned than that relating to architecture, whose duty it
is to see, without straining official interference too far, that no serious
ofEence against artistic taste in the public streets and buildings be
perpetrated. As the designs of certain important classes of buildings
must be sent to Paris to receive the approval of the Conseil 6^n6ral
des Batiments Civils, and as that council comprises several of the
finest architects in France, the result is happy and the recriminations
few. It is the work which we aim at doing through the Archi-
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1905 A PLEA FOB A MINISTRY OF FINE ARTS 385
tectural Vigilance Society ; but while the latter has no powers beyond
its own persuasiveness and sweet reasonableness and its final appeal
to public opinion, in France the decision of the Council has the force
of law.
It will be said at once from this, I fear, too bald indication of the
scope and activity of the Ministry of Fine Arts across the Channel
that so thorough and searching a scheme has no chance of realisation
in this country. I am not sure, even if it were possible, that it would
be desirable ; for it might remove all sense oi initiative and personal
activity from the community, and place the whole matter of Art
education and not a little of Art patronage in the iminspiring hands
of the Government ; so that while in some respects a better artistic
condition of things might prevail, the usefulness and value of individual
effort and interest in the result might be in a great measure lost.
But, on the other hand, a good deal would be done which is now
not done at all ; municipalities which now do nothing would find
an atmosphere of Art developing around them ; and those who now
do ill or spend their activity and their money in futile efforts would,
with growing education, be pleased to find that what they have striven
vainly to obtain was accessible after all.
Indeed, it is not essential to a British Fine Arts Ministry ; we can
arrive at our object in a simpler fashion, while drawing all the inspira-
tion and help we can from the French organisation. It has already
been shown that the Office of Works controls a vast number of public
buildings : it is one of the great spending departments, and many
of the chief Art interests of the public are in its hands. It has had
the good fortune to be ruled, in its present chief as by his predecessor,
by men of consummate taste, who might confidently be trusted to do
justice to the esthetic side of its work. That department, then, should
form the nucleus of the new creation, and it should be raised to the
dignity of Ministry of Fine Arts and Public Buildings. But no more
in England than in France should the control of such vast and delicate
interests be left in the unfettered hands of one man, who may not
always be of the stamp of Lord Windsor, Lord Esher, or of Lord
Balcarres. He should be assisted by an advisory body — what the
Prince Consort called a ' Conmiittee of Taste * — somewhat analogous
to that in the French administration, consisting of the heads of our
chief great public museums, galleries, and societies, the Presidents
of the Royal Academy, the Society of Antiquaries, the Royal Institute
of British Architects, the Society for the Preservation of Ancient
Buildings, perhaps the chairman of societies such as the Architectural
Vigilance Society, the National Art Collections Fund, the Egyptian
Exploration Fund, the National Trust for Places of Historic Interest
and Natural Beauty, among bodies more influential, together with
a given number of artists and architects, designers, and, if the British
official mind can rise to the pitch of enlightenment displayed abroad.
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386 THE NINETEENTH CENTUB7 Sept.
one or two ontade or lay members of recogniBed competence and
taste in the matter of Art.
In this manner not only the obvious interests of Art should be
efficiently represented upon the Council, but there would be created
a central body which may bring its influence to bear directly upon
the objects for which Parliament now votes more than a million
a year. This Council would act only in an advisory capacity, and
could not by itself take action. On the other hand, without its
approval the Minister could not move independently : it would control
his decisions and act as a check on any step which in its expert corporate
opinion would be counter to the interests of Art ; that is to say, pretty
much the same arrangement as at present exists in respect of the
Admiralty, the War Office, and India. Parliamentary control would
necessarily be maintained as heretofore ; the Treasury would continue
to officiate as bursary, not as controlling agent, in any other active
sense, and the Ministry of Fine Arts would act as the exchange or
clearing-house of all administrative matters concerned with Art,
so far as they are in the hands of the Government. To the new
department would be transferred the control of the National Gallery,
the National Portrait Gallery, the British Museum, the Wallace
Collection, and the Tate Gallery, at least so far as the management
is at present in the hands of the Treasury, while leaving intact as now
the authority of the trustees of each institution. The funds would
pass to them through the hands of the Minister of Fine Arts, and
the appointment of Director of each would be vested in the Minister,
and no longer be in the gift of the First Lord and of such other
authorities as now exercise control in these supremely important
particulars. The Art administration of the Victoria and Albert
Museum should be transferred from the Board of Education to the
new Ministry, along with the Art collections and fabrics of the palaces
and castles not perhaps officially recognised as museums, yet which
on account of their historic interest and beauty would fall naturally
into the hands of the department. On the Minister of Fine Arts would
also devolve the responsibility of maintaining them with a religious
care and artistic knowledge which we hardly look for at the hands of
the War Office, for example, or even of the Treasury.
All the national museums, it has already been said, would come
under the new regime, but the administration of so perfect an institu-
tion as the British Museum would be left intact. The Royal Scottish
Museum, now under the Scottish Education Department, the Dublin
Museum of Science and Art, correspondingly controDed by the Depart-
ment of Technical Instruction of Ireland, and similar institutions,
would likewise be absorbed, and they and the National (Jalleries of
Scotland and Ireland, which are being unduly starved under the
present system, would receive financial assistance commensurate
with their reasonable needs. All these public and semi-public
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mnseTims, such as the Dnlwich Qalleryand the Soane Museum, would
be co-ordinated, and ' trustee galleries,' such as the Flazman Oallery,
the Watts Oallery, Leighton House, Hogarth House, &o., could
place themselves under the same jurisdiction. All municipal galleries
and institutions which desired it could be merged in the same and be
cared for by the State — not on the meagre conditions at present laid
down, but in such a way as to be of vital use and interest to the com-
munities interested. When I looked into the matter twenty years ago
I found that in France no fewer than two himdred and fifty towns had
availed themselves of the privilege extended to them by the Ministry
of Fine Arts. The number has probably by now considerably increased.
When we come to Art teaching we must hesitate to recommend
Government control. Even in so bureaucratio a country as France
the (Government has declined to accept direct responsibility for Art
instruction : it has left it, like the Salons, in the hands of competent
artists, concerning itself only in such a way as to satisfy the public
of its non-interference both with teaching and exhibitions. For this
reason the Royal Academy would be left outside the scheme which
I am advocating, for the Governmental touch is apt to become a taint
when it interposes in the production of the fine fieur of Art happily
and irresponsibly created. No good can come of tinkering mtix a
venerable institution which suffers from having been planned on
illogical lines : on the principle that one and the same institution can
logically be a teaching body for the few and an exhibiting body for
the many— compelled, if it would demonstrate its sympathy with
all forms of Art and prove its own catholicity, to exhibit in its ^eries
works the principles of which it may conceive it its bounden duty to
discourage in its schools. In Paris the Salons on the one hand and
the Ecole des Beaux- Arts and similar Art schools on the other are
absolutely distinct and separate, and the difficulty which afflicts the
Royal Academy is there pretty much unknown.
Thus, although a Ministry of Fine Arts may commission, buy, and
construct, it cannot satisfactorily teach, exhibit, or sell ; and if it
were thought well that it should take over from the Board of
Education the whole system of Art teaching as at present conducted
throughout the coimtry, it would still confine itself to administration,
leaving to the existing teaching organisation the duties on which
it is at the present time engaged. The advantage of such a transfer
would be that all the public Art institutions and bodies would be
worked from one living centre ; that there would be one responsible
body and one responsible head directly controlled by Parliament.
And we might find that such bodies as the Slade School might
bring their breezy influence into the new Government office, and
even that such hard-struggling centres of activity as the Royal
Female School of Art and the Royal Schools of Art Needlework
and Woodcarving would eagerly seek the patronage and assistance
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derivable from the State. And publication societies such as the Diirer
Society, the Arundel Society, and the like might reasonably look for
a grant to enable them to carry on their excellent educational work.
There is one other duty in regard to which the Ministry would be
called upon to act. The arrangement of the British Art Section in all
universal exhibitions is a matter of great importance. It must not be
thought that, because for some years past Qreat Britain has achieved
outstanding success at all such international competitions, this
country has not had to contend with exceptional disadvantages in
comparison with other nations. Partly owing to our dilatory practice,
partly owing to the fact that our principal rivals have standing
exhibition conmiittees which can proceed with their work the moment
an invitation to compete has been accepted, other countries have
not only got to work, but have secured the best spaces in the exhibi-
tion buildings long before our Foreign Office has conferred witii the
Treasury, with the Board of Trade, and with the Home Office, and
has come to its decisions, established its committees, and made its
appointments; so that Qreat Britain usually fbids herself months
behindhand and permanently handicapped. It is necessary, if we
are to maintain a fair race, that we like other leading nations should
maintain continuously an International Exhibitions Committee ;
and it is clear that, for the advantageous working of it, it must be
established as an organic whole; so that the Art section cannot be
satisfactorily taken over by the Ministry of Fine Arts. At the same
time, to the new department of which I am advocating the formation
the Exhibitions Committee would be entitled to look for such assist-
ance as they may require, and it should be enough that the Committee
send in a requisition for the Minister of Fine Arts to produce from
his permanent records and standing resources the necessary assistance,
so that in the ordinary course of routine work considerable saving
to the Conmiittee of trouble and expense may easily be effected.
These, however, are relatively small matters. The main point is
that with a Ministry of Fine Arts there would be a homogeneity hitherto
unknown in the administration of the Art affairs of the nation, who
would be taught to understand the educative, civilising, and com-
mercial value of Art in a way of which there is now too little sign.
With this general co-ordination and rearrangement there would
certainly be a saving of energy and probably of expense ; and a
powerful agency for the encouragement of Art and artists would
be created such as we see abroad. What the outcome would be it
is not difficult to foresee : we would witness the greater prosperity
of the artist and a vast improvement in public taste, and an advance
in Art production which would give the full measure of the Art genius
of the nation and beautify our cities and our homes, and add con-
siderably to the happiness of our national life.
M. H. Spiklmann.
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THE TRAFFIC OF LONDON
The Royal Commission appointed more than two and a half years ago
* to inquire into the means of locomotion and transport in London '
has produced its Report, a hundred and fifty pages long, and, while
the subject and the arguments used are still fresh in the pubUc mind,
it may be well to review the result of its labours. How heavy these
have been is manifest when we learn that the evidence, the maps and
diagrams, and the engineering advice which led to its reconmiendations
fill a further seven volumes. These we have still to wait for ; but,
meanwhile, the murder is out, and we know that a body of business
men, eminent, able, and of the class which, as a rule, cherish conserva-
tive traditions, have put forward proposak of a very far-reaching
and radical nature. What is also apparent is that if the London
Press reflects the opinions of its readers, the public are prepared for
drastic measures, and show no signs of being shocked at anything.
The order of reference to the Commission was to report :
(a) As to the measures which the Commission deem most effectual
for the improvement of the same by the development and inter-
connection of railways and tramways on, or below, the surface ; by
increasing the faciUties for other forms of mechanical locomotion;
by better provision for the organisation and regulation of vehicular
and pedestrian traffic, or otherwise.
(6) As to the desirabiUty of establishing some authority or tribunal
to which all schemes of railway or tramway construction of a local
character should be referred, and the powers which it would be advis-
able to confer on such a body.
As the most definite proposition which the Commissioners make,
and make unanimously, is connected with (b), and as their acceptance
and elaboration of the poUcy of a special tribunal govern many of
their reconmiendations, it may be as well to consider this new authority
first. The Traffic Board, as they would call it, should, they say,
consiBt of three or five competent men, not elected, but appointed by
Government. They must be capable men of business, energetic,
impartial, and able to devote, if necessary, their whole time to the
work for which they are selected. They are to be salaried officials,
and their duties are to be of ' an advisory and semi-judicial character,'
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890 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Sept.
and to extend over Greater London, otherwise the Metropolitan Police
difltrict. The Eeport points out that there can be no finality in dealing
with the problem of London locomotion, that the conditions must be
alwa}^ changing, but that there should be some permanent body
always on the watch, looking far ahead, and standing for continuity of
policy. This body should be a board of experts which would make
a yearly report to Parliament dealing with the whole subject of traffic,
and would also report specially on everythiog within its province.
It could investigate problems, and even prepare schemes itself ; but
its principal function would be to piece together the proposals of
others into a homogeneous whole, to facilitate co-operative action,
and to prevent overlapping. It would also oil the machinery. Evi-
dently it is thought that much could be accomplished by a more
tactful treatment of controversial questions. This board would
assist everybody, and would look after both public and private interests,
weighing the advantage to the community. Though its reports
would not be judicial decisions, once the confidence of the public was
secured few projects would get far without its approval, and it would
thus reduce the labours of the Select Committees of Parliament, and
it may fervently be hoped prevent great waste of money.
Practically the only criticism that has appeared is to the efiEect
that such a board would have to ' go slow,' but on the other hand the
author of the minority report, Sir George Bartley, regrets that so
much time has been wasted, and that it did not get to work a year
ago. His argument is that the special report of the Advisory Board
of Engineers, which is appended, should have been called for not by
the Conmiission, but by a permanent body. What London will owe
to the three distinguished members of that Advisory Board only the
historian of the future can tell; but in their Report, and in the mass of
evidence dealing with the subject from all points of view which has
been gathered together from innumerable sources, there is the founda-
tion on which much good work should be reared. It is to be hoped
that a Traffic Board will be called into existence at once, and that its
members will bring to their interesting duties not only a strict sense
of economy, but the rarer gift of imagination, together with a whole-
hearted love of London and a knowledge of her various needs.
The reconmiendation in the Report to which, as it does not neces-
sitate expenditure, a newly constituted board might be expected to
turn its attention first, would be the amendment of the regulations of
traffic. There is a general agreement that these would be the better
of a thorough overhaul, and that the various police Acts should be
strengthened and made more expUcit ; but the advantage of a Traffic
Board is at once demonstrated when we read that, on the most im-
portant proposal of all, the prescribing of routes for vehicles, the
Commissioner of Police of the Metropolis 'entertains objections to
any increase of his powers to make regulations.' He is anidouSi and
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1906 THE TBAFFIC OF LONDON 891
rightly ftaxioos, that the policeman should be consideied as every-
body's friend, and he wishes the responsibiUty to he elsewhere. The
Commissioners recognise the difficulty, especially in reference to omni-
buses, and they think that the Traffic Board should report on sugges-
tions, and that it should be left to the Home Secretary to approve or
reject them. We all know that in some streets there are too many
omnibuses and too many crawling cabs ; but, perhaps, the best results
could be obtained if the heavier traffic, the drays and the lorries, and
all vehicles returning empty, could be legally relegated to less used
thoroughfares. There are many streets even in congested central
London which are not used up to their full capacity. They are not
sufficiently exciting. The real want is fast streets and slow streets,
light roads and heavy roads, as well as some appreciation of the hours
when particular movements are taking place. If it were possible to
arrange that more work should be done at night, it would make things
easier, and this is of even more importance when we come to the
intolerable nuisance caused by the endless breaking up of the road-
way. For the latter careful legislation is necessary. By-laws, which
need not be harassing, might deal with waiting carriages and vans
standing before shops, as they have successfully dealt with covered
carts; but Sir Qeorge Bartley points out how difficult it is to
enforce the rule of keeping to the kerb, and how hard it is upon the
horses.
After what can be done for nothing comes what can be done
economically by the use of ordinary prudence and foresight. It is
the height of absurdity that, while we are painfully endeavouring to
deal with the results of narrow streets in the centre, just outside, in
Greater London, the evil is being perpetuated every day. The
CommiBsioners recommend that the building laws in districts sur-
rounding the Coimty of London be made uniform, and that special
attention be paid to medn roads. It might be suggested that Parha-
ment should also consider the whole question of the development of
cater London, not only from the point of view of locomotion, but of
air space and open space. We are told that by 1931 the population
will number ten or eleven miUions. If so, arrangements should be
made now that, as the people increase, both arteries and lungs should
automatically expand. The present tendency is for both to contract.
Meanwhile 140 feet for main avenues, 100 feet for first-class arterial
streets, and 80, 60, and 40 or 60 feet respectively for first, second,
and third class streets, are put forward by the Advisory Board as
standard widths. It must, however, be remembered that the upkeep
of roads wider than necessary means great waste of money. If, a>
is proposed, the power of defining frontages is given to local authori-
ties, let us hope that roadside gardens wiU be encouraged as long as
possible, though with the object-lesson of the building over of forecourts
visible in every directioni the strictest regulations will be necessary
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892 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Sept.
to provide for future requirements. Wire connections are sure to
multiply, and subways must always be kept in mind«
When they come to dealing with London proper the Commissioners
rely very much on the report of their engineers, who have launched
some schemes of surprising boldness. They have adopted the proposal
of Sir John Wolfe-Barry and others to drill through London, from
north to south, from east to west, two great main avenues, big enough
for all purposes and so constructed as to be thoroughly up to date.
This captivates the imagination^ and, though Sir Joseph Dimsdale
scents financial disaster, it is to be noted that the majority of the
Commission show no disposition to shy at a possible expenditure, on
this count alone, of thirty millions sterling. They think that the
project ' should find a place in the general plan,' but they would not
advise ' that other works of less magnitude . . . should be retarded
in the expectation of its early accomplishment.' Probably most
people would prefer to wait for the realisation of the Holbom to Strand
' Improvement.' If that turns out finandally successful there will be
an immediate demand for the great roads. Then it will be time
enough to discuss whether the lines roughly suggested are the best
and cheapest, but it does appear as though the east and west route
would not be sufficiently central, although still terribly costly. As
laid down on the plan it runs, comparatively speaking, midway between
two broad thoroughfares, the lines of the Euston Road and Oxford
Street, and parallel to and equidistant from two estabhshed lines
of railway, the old Underground and the Twopenny Tube. As
regards east and west communication, the district through which it is
proposed is the best served in London, and it is expensive property.
There is an infinitely cheaper line further north, there is a much more
advantageous line further south. And to go more south still, do not
let us forget that when it comes to planning one main avenue from
east to west, and making arrangements for through traffic and really
fast traffic, the river Thames flows if not through the heart of London
at least through the centre. Its waters may be of little value save
for recreation and barges, but it has two banks and acres of reclaim-
able mud, and the incalculable value, when it comes to purchasing a
right of way, that it severs property. On the south bank, that
despised south bank, there is alwajrs the possibility of a quay, in places
a commercial quay, the whole way from Putney right through to the
Docks. On the north, from Battersea Bridge to Blackfriars Bridge
we shall soon have a clear course of four and a half miles of broad
road, the net cost of which works out at not much more than two
miUions, a very different matter from fifteen. Boadmaking on a
river bank is simphcity itself compared to driving a devastating
track through valuable property, disturbing the inhabitants and
raising difficult problems of rehousing ; not to speak of the waste of
pulling down buildings in excellent condition. In passing, it must
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1906 THE TBAFFIC OF LONDON 898
have been somewhat of a shock to economists to see Walsingham
House, a fine building erected at great cost only some fourteen years
ago, demolished to its foundations in order that the carriage way of
Piccadilly should be widened eleven feet at a cost of 2002. per foot of
frontage ! I shall be told that not only is the river out of the way,
but that its course is not straight ; and it is true that a hne ruled
from Battersea to Blackfriars is only three miles and a thousand yards
in length. But what is asked for is a road for fast traveUing, and
there is no point even three and a half miles from the City boundary,
north, south, east, or west, which can be reached as quickly as Battersea
Bridge, a mile further, but on a practically unblockable road. And
why is it unblockable 1
In May 1903 I was allowed to discuss in this Review, at consider-
able length, the blocks which are caused by cross traffic, and the
difficulties of deaUng with them. It was Sir John Wolfe-Barry who
first riveted attention on this subject, and his appointment to the
Commission was an assurance that it would be threshed out. It is
interesting to see that he has carried his colleagues with him. We
may lay it down as an axiom that a road which is independent of
cross traffic — and the Embankment, having its flank protected by the
river, save at five bridges, is the most notable example in London —
must be good for speed. And from the desire to go fast we come to
the desire to get along at all, not to be compelled to stand still. The
advisory engineers make three recommendations. Sir John still
presses the urgent need of a bridge over the Strand at Wellington
Street, but the County Council ' Improvement ' has got so far at
that point that it is difficult to see what can be done now. It is ever
the case. Street improvements have their moments of economic
possibiUty. If these are let slip the improvements are postponed for
three generations, perhaps for ever. This chance has gone.
Their second recommendation — which apparently follows a pro-
posal I put forward as an illustration — ia for a tunnel under Piccadilly
from Berkeley Street, to reUeve the Walsingham House block. For
the moment this can wait. It is much wanted, but meanwhile no
fresh interests or difficulties are being created. It is a typical instance
of the service which we may expect from the Traffic Board as a watch-
dog. But if at one comer of the parks there is no necessity for imme-
diate action, at another, where the new Mall is debouching towards
Glaring Gross, there ought not to be a day's delay in considering
future complications. This new road is going to be the main carriage
and cab route between the West-end and the City, and it is proposed
to allow its great stream to flow back and forward athwart the three
other steady streams which struggle up and down hill in the very
neck of the Whitehall bottle. Already Cockspur Street, St. Martin's
Lane, the Strand, and Northumberland Avenue all discharge into the
bottom comer of Trafalgar Square, down a steep incUne, and at
Vol. LVIII— No. 843 I) D
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894 THE NINETEENTH CENTUB7 Sept.
different angles. To this tramways are to be added. It will be an
appalling crossing, and it would be worth a heavy expenditure if its
dangers and inconveniences could be mitigated. The question is not
an easy one, but before it is too late might not some consideration be
given to the possibility, besides the main exit, of an additional sunken
road along the north face of the Admiralty, to pass under Whitehall
and come up towards the Embankment by way of Old Scotland
Yard ? Again this is a case, affecting as it does not only the County
Council and the Westminster City Council, but his Majesty's Office of
Works, in which the assistance of the Traffic Board would be of the
greatest value.
The engineers' third recommendation is one which might easily
have more far-reaching consequences than anything in the whole
report of the Commission. It deals with Blackfriars and the (Sty
boundaries. In their desire to help not only west to get east, but
south to get north, and especially with a view to tramway connec-
tions, they propose what virtually comes to be a double-decked street.
They would imitate the railway, and carry a viaduct from the centre
of Blackfriars Bridge, over the Embankment and Queen Victoria
Street traffic, over Ludgate Circus, right up to the Holbom arch.
Apparentiy at that point it is to come down to the level of Farnngdon
Street, but there can be no reason why it should not also have wings
joining on to the older viaduct. The Corporation have already
expressed themselves as willing to allow Blackfriars Bridge to be
practically rebuilt, and the natural question arises, why start at
the middle of the bridge ? Would not the foundations stand a second
story throughout 1 From the point of view of beauty, the higher the
structure the better. It would hide the railway bridge and other
architectural iniquities beyond, and from many an early aqueduct
we know how well one row of arches superimposed upon another
can look. If it is possible to constrain public opinion to an elevated
road half a mile long, why not make it a mile i It would be a mon-
strosity in some parts of London, but on this particular line it would
be quite natural. There, south of the river, every railway comes
in towards the centre on embankments or arches ; while on the north
the raised road would run up the middle of a valley. If necessary it
could be connected with the slopes on either side, but that is not so
important as the power of giving a free passage right across the busiest
and most congested part of London. The public advantages obtained
would be great. Would the cost overbalance them ! To the expen-
diture on the raised structure itself would have to be added the awards
for compensation, but, though ground floors along the route would
fall in value, the house owners who chose to be connected on the
upper level would secure a double frontage. When the Traffic Board
comes to working out figures it will probably find that an elaboration
of this particular feature of the engineers' report will turn out to be
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1905 THE TBAFFIO OF LONDON 895
not only the most satisfactory way of ensuring a * speed ' road from
north to south, but infinitely the cheapest.
So much for the recommendations which are put forward to help
every man, on his feet and in every class of vehicle ; less contentious
inasmuch as they raise no question of the evils of monopoly. For in
the mouths of many estimable citizens the word 'monopoly' is as
potent to ban as to their ancestors the word 'Mesopotamia' was
powerful to bless. The great railway companies are princes of
monopoly. They must ever be so. They have been granted rights
which will last while the C!onstitution lasts. But it is pleasant to
find that in the opinion of the Commissioners they fulfil their duties
fairly well in spite of it. They bring enormous numbers of people
into London at a very cheap rate, and, if they do not land them near
enough to the centre, it is not their fault, but because in early days
they were forbidden an entry ' by the deliberate policy of Parliament.'
It is too late to reconsider that policy now, but the Report testifies
to the good work that has been done under difficult conditions. When
it comes to tube railways. Sir G^eorge Qibb, who inserts a special
note, is anxious that the Twopenny Tube should be extended
so as to sweep round from Shepherd's Bush, via Kensington, Picca-
dilly, and the Strand, to the City, and be reconnected there, if possible
at Liverpool Street, so that trains could be run on a complete inmost
circle. By the majority, only one quite new line, to connect Victoria
with the Marble Arch, is suggested ; but there are several minor
recommendations, concerning the linking up of both railways and
' tubes,' and the need for interchange stations. The advantages of
unified management are also pointed out. Discussing general prin-
ciples the C!ommissioners say that ^ London should rely wholly upon
private enterprise for the construction of new railways,' but they
would empower municipal authorities to assist private undertakings
which are for the pubUc good but which cannot in the ordinary course
of business be worked at a profit. They deprecate ' the imposition
of undue burdens on, or exaction of impossible conditions from,
promoters,' and they make an interesting, and for this country a
novel, proposal, to the efiect that railway companies should be per-
mitted to acquire land with the view to developing it themselves.
This opens up a very wide field for speculation. Generally speaking,
though they do not seem to be sufficiently impressed with their
advantages to recommend any, they favour shallow subways rather
than ' tubes,' which are han<^oapped by the necessity for lifts, and
they express a hope that very shortiy all suburban traffic will be
operated by electricity. But within the limits of this article it
is impossible to enter into aU the problems of the London railway
system. If we are considering the Haussmannisation of the town,
we must get back to the streets.
It is when they pass from the inonopoly which is granted to a
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896 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Sept.
private body, to make, own, and operate a private track, to the more
serious monopoly of a special right of user of the public highway,
that the Commissioners make their most revolutionary proposal.
They decide in favour of a great tramway development. Their
views are frankly democratic. They have noted the growing popu-
larity of carriages ^ for all,' and the fact that where there is no dis-
tinction of class, as with omnibuses and with the Twopenny Tube,
it in no way militates against financial success. The days when it
was thought necessary to reserve special compartments for the rich
are gone for ever. The lord and the labourer, the City merchant
and his lowest clerk, and all their wives, rub shoulders in public
conveyances. Anything that will take him more quickly whither he
wants to go will tempt even the plutocrat.
The Report accordingly recommends a great extension of tram-
ways over districts of London where they have hitherto been tabooed,
a proposal calculated to bring a blush of pride and pleasure to the
cheeks of such hardy fighters in the ' Battle of the Trams ' as Messrs.
Bums and Benn and Baker, and to confirm in the mind of Mr. Crooks,
the other member of the formidable quartette which now represents
Spring Gardens in the House of Commons, a belief in the virtue
of Royal Commissions. But before this recommendation can be
carried out great changes must be made in the rights of the different
municipal bodies which control London.
It wiU be news to many that the London County Council, though
the tramway authority, is not the road authority of London ; that the
Corporation of the Qty and the various borough councils can veto
the London County Council tramways, just as the Council itself can
veto those of any private promoter. It is now proposed that
The absolute ' veto ' over the oonstraotion of tramways possessed by local
and street authorities should be abolished throughout the area of Greater
London, but with a preferential right to county councils and the Corporation
of the City of London to construct tramways within their districts if they are
prepared to do so.
That the different municipaUties affected will object, there ia no doubt.
Sir Joseph Dimsdale says that the streets of the City are obviously
unsuitable for tramways, and from the evidence which he quotes he
would appear to express the views of the Corporation. Sir George
Bartley goes even further, and there can be httle doubt that many
of the local bodies will fight to the last for their privilege.
Meanwhile, let us consider what would be the result if the ' veto '
were abolished, and if it were possible to push electric tramways
through London in every direction and on the street level. There
can be no doubt in the world of their popularity, and with reason,
for it would be difficult to find a more pleasant mode of locomotion.
In the old days the top of a coach, with hoofis clattering and chains
ringing and the traffic faUing politely to the right and the left at the
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1906 THE TRAFFIC OF LONDON 897
sound of the horn, flattered one's vanity. It is the same to-day when
in a powerful motor car we catch up and leave behind us everything
upon the road. But neither of these sensations much surpasses that
of the rider on the top of a tramcar when all goes well, and he travels
at full speed. He is safer than on a coach, and much higher and faster.
He is probably just as comfortable, and his course is smoother and
more relentless. The bell rings, and slower vehicles of every kind,
at great inconvenience and much to their detriment, get out of his
way, not from a wish to be polite but because they can be prosecuted
if they fail to do so. All individuals must stand on one side, for he
is environed on the symbol of the spirit of a democratic majority, it
would appear that he pays but a ridiculously small sum for his ride,
and he can be accompanied by his wife and the children, taking the
air Uke a lady in her own carriage. Naturally municipal ownership is
in hvour with the small ratepayer. The less he thinks he contributes,
the greater his sense of superiority. The man who first realised the
value of ^ trams ' as a poUtical asset was a bom party organiser.
So much for the tramways when they are cheap and fast, but
what we have to consider ia whether this combination is always
possible. Let us take speed first. There is another side to the picture
when something goes wrong, or the street is up, and the tramcar and
a dozen before it and an endless queue behind are hopelessly blocked ;
when the pctssenger has to sit and wait, or get out and walk, regretting
even the common horse onmibus of other days which found its way
round obstacles, much more the motor bus which struggles by, not
quite so comfortable, rather inclined to rattle and twist and jolt, but
able to get somehow to its destination.
There can be no doubt that the tramcar should be safer than the
motor bus, it should suffer less depredation from wear and tear, and on
an open road it should go as iaat or faster ; but when it comes to
averaging their respective speeds, how does traffic affect the car ?
On the side of the bus it must be remembered that it can avoid obstruc-
tions of all kinds, that it is tied to no particular street, that it can not
only adapt itself to the exigencies of the moment but can be removed
permanently to a better-paying route vnthout the waste of a sixpence.
Also when ' full up,' or simply because it is so intended, it can run
' express,' passing everything else. We know all these arguments ;
but there is one other advantage which the omnibus has over the
tramcar which it seems to me has never yet been sufficiently pressed.
The one can, and does, come to the kerb to pick up its passengers ;
the other, unless we are going to revise all our rules of the road —
this has been suggested by a Parliamentary Conmiittee, but it is a
difficult matter to tackle — ^must remain tied to the centre of the
street. Let any one go first to the east end of Piccadilly and then
to the southern end of Westminster Bridge, and realise what it would
mean if, at all the places where traffic is densest, women and children.
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898 TEE NINETEENTH GENTUBY Sept
the blind, the halt, and the lame, had to struggle out, threading their
WBj through carts and oarriages and bioTcles to the special tramcar
which they wished to board. It is a subject for serious reflection.
Remember that we are considering the probability of more than a
million people using the tramways every day. There would be a
heavy casualty list, or a rule woidd have to be made that wherever
tramcars stop to pick up in crowded thoroughfares all other traffic
must be reduced to a walking pace. And then how about the vaunted
increased speed of locomotion ? for, from estimating the speed of
travelling by tramcar, we are brought to consider the speed of every
class of vehicle. Are the tramways to be an obstacle to every other
cart and carriage and to the necessary facilities of trade ?
When the full evidence taken before the Commission is published,
we shall be able to weigh the varied opinions of the experts as to
whether tramways and tram lines are a serious bar to traffic ; but,
according to Sir Joseph Dimsdale, the City poUce have no doubt on
the subject. Captain Nott Bower, the Commissioner, who was
previously head constable at Liverpool, speaking of that town, said
that:
So far irom assisting the traffic, he considered that the introduction of the
electric tramway system into Liverpool created the greatest possible difficulties
with regard to the traffic in almost every street, notwithstanding that the
service of Liverpool had every advantage which Mr. Sellon suggested as being
necessary for a thoroughly efficient system. There was unified management
under the Corporation, there was the electric service on the trolley system, and
yet, notwithstanding all those advantages, the difficulties of traffic were
enormously increased by the adoption of the electric tramways in the city.
Coming from a responsible and experienced official these are
weighty words, and if we take them as applying to all crowded streets
throughout London, we are warned that in heavy traffic tramcars
must be slow themselves and make everything else slow. If Captain
Bower is right, how can the difficulties be got rid of, and the speed
accelerated ?
The Commissioners meet the difficulty by several recommenda-
tions. They point out that dead-end terminals are a source of great
inconvenience, as well as a waste of carrying power, that the lines
should run through, or should avoid congested points, but they seem
to ignore the policy of the 'object lesson,' that where a barrier ia erected
there is a definite reason for coming straight up against it, to knock
and continue knocking, in the hope that the gate will be opened.
Such is the genesis of all the terminals they mention. They might
have been avoided, but they were never intended to be permanendes.
Should the abolition of the ' veto ' be carried, it will be criminal to
have dead-end terminals anywhere near the centre in the future.
Given the barrier down, how then are the lines to be got along
the streets ? In some places, as on the Embankment, as even in
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1906 THE TBAFFIC OF LONDON 899
Whitehall, there is ample width, and it is only a question of counting
the convenienoe and the sentiment; but these are the exceptions.
In the narrower streets it may be possible to put down single lines
for traffic in one direction only. This method, the Report states, is
common enough abroad, and once it were thoroughly understood
(and we must legislate for Londoners, not for casual visitors) it has
much to recommend it. It might entail some additional track expen-
diture, but the necessity for street widenings would disappear. Totten-
ham Court Road and Gtower Street have been suggested before now
as two parallel streets which could be treated in this manner, but there
is a more prominent example in the West End. The Report suggests
tramwa}rs along both the King's Road and the Fulham Road, which
for most part of their course of three miles run only about five hundred
yards apart. Both streets are narrow, and to carry a double track
would require very costly widenings. Surely it would not be an
insupportable inconvenience that travellers should learn to take the
one road to go east and the other to go west. Then the CSommissioners
nuse — and they are very cautious, and we feel that they must have
approached this possibility with almost bated breath — ^the question
of the sanctity of * open spaces.' They raise it in its acutest form,
for they would lay sacrilegious hands upon Hyde Park. The lungs
of London have long been considered not only luxuries but necessities.
Apparently tramways are now to be added to the necessities. Why,
it has struck them, not save money and combine the two ? Why
should only private carriages be admitted to the parks ? The rule
was made to preserve the amenities of the pleasure grounds of the
King and his people, and exclude what was ugly. If motor cars are
to get in, why shut out what Mr. Burns cetUs ^ our beautiful tramcars ' ?
There is room for them to have a special road for themselves, away
from the carriages. Why, argues the social democrat, must the poor
only walk in the parks ? Why should they not enjoy their drive as
well as the rich ? Why, sighs the economist, spend money in bu3dng
land and pulling down houses if we can get a much faster and better
route for nothing ? The Commissioners dare to propose a tramway
on the surface from the Marble Arch to Hyde Park Comer, passing
by the Achilles statue. They say, ' if public opinion would only tolerate
it.' The very breath of such a suggestion is striking evidence of the
march of democracy, and of how far this tramway extension may
carry us. If public opinion would only tolerate it, it would be the
most popular route in London, and the cheapest, but probably the
stoutest opponent of such an outrage on his beloved ' parks ' would
be Mr. John Bums.
And so we, naturally, come to the crux of the whole matter, the
cost of the right of way. Tramways in the suburbs must pay. Given
wide streets, the right of free user, and a large population anxious to
travel, no other form of locomotion can hope to compete with them ;
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400 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Sept.
for, by monopolising the best part of the roadway, they naturally
penalise their competitors. If the responsible people — whether they
call themselves a Board of Directors or a Highways Committee does
not matter — do not make both ends meet, they merit instant dis-
missal. They must either be paying too much or asking too Uttle.
But where the streets are not wide enough, and the right of way has
to be paid for, it is quite a different matter. In the Report there is
one most curious omission. Perhaps it was considered outside the
order of reference, but when it comes to estimating the value of tram-
way eidiension, can we ignore the question of who pays for the street
widenings 1 The Report says, ^ In point of cheapness the London
C!ounty Council are carrying passengers at very low rates, and inform
us that they can do so and at the same time earn a profit.' Now, so
far, the County Council are only operating the tramways in South
London, where the main roads are as a rule not so crooked or narrow
as they are in the north, though I understand that even there three
quarters of a million is estimated for widening tramway routes.
What will be the expense of operating the many congested routes
in the north if — and this is a big if — the cost of these widenings or any
reasonable proportion of their cost is to be charged against the tram-
way account ?
It may be as well here to explain briefly what has been the custom
of the London County Council in this connection in the past. There
has been supposed to be a rough and ready rule that where streets are
widened for tramway purposes one-third should be charged against
the tramway account, one-third should be contributed by the local
authority, and one-third should be charged to the account of the
* Improvement,' namely the county funds. It will be noticed that by
this arrangement the tramwajrs got their necessary right of way for a
third of what it cost the ratepayers, the remainder being charged
against the conmiunity through two channels. In very special cases
it was provided that the tramway account should pay all. In order
to discover how this system worked in practice, at the last meeting
of the Council before the summer recess I asked a question of the
Chairman of the Improvements Committee and received an answer
to the following effect. That since the commencement of the Council
in 1889 the net cost of the ' improvements ' which it has carried out
was 7,499,3941., of which 1,051,3851. was recoverable from local authori-
ties. On the other hand, the amount of 89,3161. 8^. lid. had been
already charged to the tramway account, while a further sum of
265,692Z. was estimated to be paid by that account. Is that all, one
would like to know, that the ratepayers will ever get back in repay-
ment for their heavy outlay ? A great proportion of the seven and
a half millions has undoubtedly been expended on improvements
in no way connected with tramwajrs, but north of the river costly
widenings have taken place in streets along which, if the great tram-
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1906 THE TRAFFIC OF LONDON 401
way extension takes place, trams will run. When that day comes
we shall be on the horns of a dilenmia. Did the ratepayers pay for
these improvements because they were necessary for the ordinary
traffic ? If so, presumably these streets must be widened afresh for
tramwajrs. If it was a far-seeing device to provide the wide streets
which were necessary for the coming tramways, then there must be
a heavy retrospective charge against the tramway account. What
ellect will either alternative have on tramway fares, and so on the
power of tramwajTS to compete with the motor bus in cheapness ?
But the widenings up to date are a mere bagatelle to what will
have to be undertaken in the next few years if London is to be given
an efficient tramway system along her inner main thoroughfares.
Those who press for it are well aware of the difficulty, and it would
seem that they propose to meet it by abrogating the old, though
apparently little used, rule of a contribution of a third. On the
Ist of August the Improvements Committee of the C!ouncil brought up
their annual list of suggested county improvements, * all of which,'
they say, * are connected with tramway proposals.' These ' improve-
ments ' are five in number, and their total cost is 309,650{. Of this
only 7,8002. is proposed to be charged against the tramway account.
Ought the tramways to pay for these widenings, the whole, any
portion, or none ? That is a question on which many in London
looked to the Commissioners for an authoritative answer. Their
silence is unaccountable, for on it much depends. It is not a simple
question. On the one side railways and tubes pay for their special
tracks, but, on the other, those who compete with the tramways in the
pubUc streets, omnibuses, cabs, and carriages, not only pay nothing
for widenings, but nothing for the upkeep of the roadway. The
liability to maintain a certain breadth of pavement, which, remember,
is used by everybody, is a heavy charge on the tramway funds. ' That
is quite enough,' says the advanced municipal trader ; ' why should
we even pay so much ? We are running a public service for the
pubtic benefit. Everything should be charged to the pubUc. It is
for the Improvements Committee to help us, and clear the way for us
at the public expense.' To which the plain man answers that what
is required is the cheapest form of locomotion as well as the least
obstructive. That he wants to know what works out the best value,
not to the tram rider only, but to the conmiunity. He has heard
that to widen places in central London by the breadth of a tramcar
will cost at the rate of half a million a mile. 'When it comes to
figures like that, are tramways a necessity or only a luxury ? ' he asks,
*' and are they to be self-supporting, or subsidised by the rates ? '
And he goes on to argue with his best friend on the moot point as to
whether subsidies are permissible in a good cause, but has to change
the subject hurriedly on finding that his companion is a heavy holder
of omnibus stock, and therefore wofully prejudiced. It seems a
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402 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Sept.
pity that from the CommiBsioners he gets nothing but an expression
of opinion on the need of sound finance, and of an inquiry as to the
advisability of munidpaUties owning and operating tramways.
Perhaps they think that such an inquiry should precede the proposed
extension, but they do not say so.
Let us hope that the tramway enthusiasts will not push their
advantage too far, or they will spoil their case. They have not only
to consider the comfort of the tram-user, but the trade of the town.
They must take a larger view of the question than the success or
failure of a municipal trading venture, and the capital that can be
made out of ^ object lessons.' They must not monopolise the chief
streets, they must avoid fashionable comers, they must run for direction
and not for special points. And here the Traffic Board might step
in with advantage. It will be their business to endeavour by hook
or by crook to find ways of getting tramways about London without
undue expenditure. By the help of the engineer they will discover
many routes which are not too obvious. Let them note the proposal,
only hinted at in the Report, of how outer London might be served
by the railways, that population should be tempted to follow the
rails, not rails the population. If this is a practical policy for private
enterprise, it should be the bounden duty of a municipal service,
acting intelligently and with foresight for the good of the whole
city, to elaborate it. It is the policy of creating fresh values at which
the County Council is already working. Everyone who is a believer
in tramways must hold that trade and even fashion will eventually
flow to the sides of the tram lines, that it is only a question of throwing
the handkerchief. Let them look out for byways and prove it. But
above all let them remember one thing. They have a heavy responai-
biUty. There is no good wasting a sixpence on what will be slow,
but much will be forgiven them if they can succeed in making every-
thing fast.
That is the point of it all. We are told that it is a question of
money, that we must not outrun the constable. It is folly to waste
money, but this is a question of saving time, and that will eventually
make for both health and wealtL The Traffic Board will have diverse
duties. They must study maps and ponder over conciliatory phrases
and ways and means. They must estimate the comparative advantages
of trains and ' tubes ' and ' trams ' and omnibuses. They must keep
a watchful eye on every development of the motor, and never forget
that London lives on trade. They must think of housing, and dream
of model cities. But, when they come to die, graven on their hearts
must be found the one word, ^ speed.'
Qeokob S. C. Swinton.
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1905
HOW POOR-LAW GUARDIANS SPEND
THEIR MONEY
SoifE little time ago a workhouse master applied to liis Board of
Ouardians for an ironing machine. Now it happened that, with
one exception, no member of that Board had ever seen an ironing
machine, or had ever even heard that any such machine existed.
A fair number of them, indeed, had probably no very clear idea as
to what was meant by ironing. Still it is manifestly no good having
officials unless you trust them ; and the master was emphatic in his
declaration that an ironing machine was an absolute necessity, the
sort of thing, in fact, that no well conducted workhouse could possibly
do without. The Guardians, therefore, agreed to buy one. They
grumbled a Uttle, it is true, when they found that it would cost them
200Z. ; but comforted themselves with the thought that, after all,
true economy consists not in saving but in spending wisely. Just
at the last moment, however, when the order had practically already
been given, a member who, having recently joined the Board, stood
less in awe than his colleagues of the Board's officials, ventured to
enquire whose clothes it was that this machine they were buying
was to iron. For, if it were the paupers' bits of things, he should
have thought, he said, that in so small a union as theirs the work
might easily be done by hand. Then the Guardians woke up to the
fact that they had agreed to spend, and, but for an accident would
have spent, 2002. that their workhouse officials might have their
collars and cufb nicely ironed.
This is, of course, but a trivial little episode, one which would
have no interest whatever were it not for the light it throws incident-
ally on a subject concerning which we are all waxing more or less
curious just now. Year by year more and more money is spent by
Poor Law Guardians, every Local Government Board Report that
is published shows an increase in the burden entailed by pauper
relief. According to the latest of these Reports, already in the
year ending Lady Day, 1903, the expenditure on the poor in England
and Wales, exclusive of the expenditure defrayed out of loans,
amounted to 12,848,3231. ; and since then it has increased considerably,
403
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404 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Sept.
as we all know to our oost. Now 12,848,3231. is a huge sum
for even so rich a country as ours to spend on its poor in the course
of one year, especially considering the many millions more that are
either given to them, or are spent for their benefit by the charitable.
Still, huge though it be, they who would grudge it are few, were it
not for the doubt that prevails as to how it is spent, as to whether,
in fact, the nation obtains for it good value. If men grumble when
called upon to pay the poor rate, it is in nineteen cases out of twenty
because they are convinced that the money the rate yields is wasted.
^ We should not mind paying the rate,' they declare, ^ or, at least,
should not mind so much, if we thought that the money would go
to the poor ; but ' The fact is they hold, or think they hold, proof
that for the most part it does not go to the poor, but is just ^ swattered
away.' This is the burden of their complaint.
Considering all the money that we as a nation spend on poor relief, every
pauper in the land ought to be well cared for — well housed, well fed, and well
clothed; and if the spending were done with any regard to economy and
common sense, every pauper would be well cared for. But, as a point of fisMst,
the overwhelming minority of these people are not well cared for at all ; on the
contrary they live, as we know,«in abject misery ; for more than two-thirds of
them are outdoor paupers, and if an outdoor pauper does not die of sheer
starvation, it is thanks, not to the poor relief he receives, but to the private
charity — our charity. Then, even among indoor paupers, it is only the riff-raff,
it seems, who are made comfortable. If a decent old woman is sent to the
workhouse she is so miserable she cries her eyes out, and we are denounced as
monsters unless we promptly find the money to provide her with a home else-
where. To think of spending all we do on our workhouse inmates, and not
being able to make them comfortable even at that 1
The grumblers always wind up with the same remark : ^ There
is evidently wof ul waste somewhere, gross mismanagement too ' ;
and then always ask the same questions : ^ Now, what do Poor Law
Guardians do with their money ? What does become of the millions
that pass through their hands every year ? '
These poor-rate payers are unreasonable, of course; still that
they have some little excuse for bemoaning themselves as they do,
even Poor Law Guardians must admit. . It is irritating in the extreme,
no one can deny it, to be caDed upon, after paying a poor rate of
perhaps 2«. in the pound, to supplement some luckless old fellow's
out-relief, on the score that he cannot possibly live on what the
Guardians allow him ; or be told that we really must subscribe to a
cottage-home fimd, as to let decent old folk go to the workhouse is
sheer cruelty. That those to whom this happens should feel aggrieved
— as if they were being asked to pay for the same thing twice over —
is but natural, surely ; and if, human nature being what it is, they
straightway raise the cry, ^ What do Poor Law Guardians do with
their money ? ' who can wonder. This does not imply any doubt
on their part as to whether the money is spent honestly — such a doubt
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1905 POOB'LAW EXPENDITUBE 406
would, as they know, be absurd — but only a doubt as to whether it
is spent wisely, whether, in fact, it is not just ' swattered away.' And
this doubt is certainly permissible if for nothing but that at every
turn, now, one comes across Poor Law Guardians who frankly admit
that they themselves have no idea how much of the money they are
supposed to spend is spent; and cannot understand at all why life,
even in their own workhouse, should be so costly as it is. The average
Guardian is just as prone as the rank outsider to ask ^ What does
become of the poor-rate money ? ' The question is one, indeed, which
all the world has taken to asking of late ; and this is why I have
been tempted into trying, in a humble tentative fashion, to find an
answer for it, so far at least as the money the rate yields in one special
district is concerned. During the last few months I have spent many
long weary hours conning over the accounts of the Board of Guardians
for this special district ; sifting and sorting the various items of expen-
diture in their budget, and comparing them with the same items in
other budgets. The result is that, whereas I used to wonder why
poor relief cost so many millions as it does, I wonder now that it does
not cost many miUions more.
The district in question is comparatively small, its population
being only some 52,000 — I had not the courage, I confess, to tackle
a big London district. It is made up of three little towns and
several villages, the towns and villages alike being of the sort that
would come under the heading ' fairly well-to-do.' It is an extremely
healthy district, as the death-rate shows ; and although there is
poverty there, of course, there is certainly less poverty than in most
districts. So long as a man is able and willing to work, he can gene-
rally find work to do, and at fairly high wages — even the farm labourer
has his 2l8. a week. It is not until old age comes upon him, or pro-
longed illness, that he is in need of help, as a rule. ThuB if ever there
were a district where the burden entailed by poor relief ought to be
light, this is the one surely. Were a chance sojourner to be asked to
guess how much the poor there cost their fellows, he would probably
reply, had he no promptings but those of common sense to guide him,
* Six or seven hundred a year.' I myself should have been inclined
to fix the sum at six or seven thousand, had I been asked a few months
ago ; and I rather prided myself at that time on knowing something
of the ways of Poor Law Guardians when deaUng with money. My
guess would have dubbed me at once as the veriest t}rro, however ;
for what the poor of this district realty do cost is nearly twenty
thousand a year. In the year alluded to the Guardians had spent
on poor relief 19,796Z., and this is exclusive, of course, of what they
spent on registration and assessment, exclusive, too, of one-third of
what they spent on vaccination. They had actually spent 19,796Z.
on the poor in this well-to-do district with a population of some
52,000. What, indeed, do Poor Law Guardians do with their money ?
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406 THE NINETEENTH GENTUBY Sept.
The Board of Guardians for this district, as all other Boards,
pubUsh every year a financial statement, a budget in fact, which
gives, or is supposed to give, an account of every penny they received
during the previous year, and of every penny they spent. This
statement is drawn up under the supervision of their Finance Com-
mittee, and IB always duly audited by the Local Qovemment Board.
One might think, therefore, diat all that would be necessary in order
to find out what they do with their money, would be to ask one of
them for the loan of their latest budget. One might think, I say
advisedly ; for if one did thus think, one would be sorely mistaken ;
as the budget-maker, with a view perhaps to economy in printing,
is so niggard with his statistics — so eager to club together items
of expenditure — that the information he vouchsafes is for practical
purposes useless, unless supplemented by other information, and
this of a kind not always easy to obtain. For instance, although
he tells us the amount of money spent on salaries, he gives no hint
as to the number of officiak among whom it was divided ; and although
he tells us what indoor maintenance cost, and what outdoor, he never
says how many workhouse inmates there were during the year, on an
average, or how many persons in the receipt of out-relief. Thus,
even when I had conned over their budget not once or twice, but
many times, I was as far as ever from knowing whether the Guardians
had, or had not, spent their money wisely during the year with which
it dealt ; for, although I knew how much they had spent, I had no
idea how many persons they had had on whom to spend it — no idea
how many persons they had had to support on an average during
that year. For information on this point, as on many other points
of importance for the right understanding of the Guardians' accounts,
I had to turn elsewhere — to chance returns and reports, documents
reserved as a rule for the exclusive use of the Guardians themselves.
The average number of men, women and children whom die
Guardians actually had supported, or helped to support, that year
was, I found, 936. Of these, on an average, 174 were in the work-
house itself, twenty-seven were in the casual wards, and forty-ei^t
in the workhouse school. Eighty-six were boarded out in lunatic
asylums or other institutions ; twenty-eight were non-resident cases ;
while 458 more were out-relief cases, and had dependent on them
115 children. Thus considerably more than half of the whole 936
were supported, so far as they were supported, by out-relief grants.
This fact startled me not a little when I learnt it, as I knew from
the budget that of the 19,796Z. spent on poor relief, all that was spent
on out-reUef was 2,5641., and that that included burial expenses.
The out-relief cases could, therefore, have received on an average
only 5{. 128. a year each, or 28. 1}({. a week, wherewith to provide
for themselves and their children. Practically the 2,5642. spent
that year on out-relief was divided among 673 persons, with the
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1905 POOE'LAW EXPENDITUBE 407
result that each one of them could, on an average, have received only
Is. 8id. a week. Some of them, indeed, had received less, while
others had of course received more ; still not one of the whole set
had received enough wherewith to keep body and soul together — and
poor relief is granted only to the destitute, it must be noted. There
were women above eighty to whom the Guardians had made allowances
ranging in amoimt from 2b. 6d. to 3b. 6d. a week ; and this although
the said women had nothing but their allowances to rely upon, except-
ing of course private charity. Four shillings a week is the sum on
which they expect a widow to feed, house and clothe herself and
four children, it seems ; and on Is. a woman must provide for herself
and seven children, or, at any rate, this is all the Guardians give her
wherewith to provide; and with seven children under fourteen
to take care of, and sew for, she can hardly earn much in the way
of wages. Seven shillings a week divided among eight persons ia
exactly 1^. a day each ; and, out of that not only must food and
clothing, shoes, too, be bought, but rent must be paid. Tet parents
are denounced for their criminal wickedness in sending their children
dinnerless to school, and aU the world is wondering why the race is
deteriorating. We are always being told that the age of miracles
is past, yet surely a Board of Guardians would never condemn a widow
to keep a child on l^d. a day unless they were convinced that she,
as the widow of Zarephath, had hidden away somewhere a miraculous
cruse of oil.
So far as their 458 out-rehef cases are concerned, these Guardians
certainly cannot be accused of undue generosity in the way they
spend their money; even the most captious of ratepayers would
hardly suggest that, in making Is. 8id. a week per head their average
out-relief allowance, they were guilty of extravagance. What he
might suggest, were he a humane man, is that they were guilty of
cruelty ; and what he certainly would suggest, were he an economist,
is that they were spending their money unwisely, were just swattering
it away, in fact, on the manufacturing of paupers.
In addition to their allowances, out-paupers are, it ia true, pro-
vided with medicine and medical attendance ; and their medicine
tiiat year cost 32. 15s., while the salaries of their medical officers,
and ikeii share of the fees for vaccination, amounted to 6412. The
expenditure, therefore, on out-relief together with medical relief,
exclusive of the cost of administration, was 3,2082. lbs.
The twenty-eight non-resident cases must have been supported
on much the same scale of comfort as the out-relief cases, to judge
by what they cost; for the whole outlay on them during the year
was only 1382. Compared with this the outlay on the eighty-six
lunatics and other persons whom the Guardians had provided for
by boarding them out in asylums, hospitals and other institutions,
may seem exorbitant; but the relief of the aiSicted must always
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408 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Sept.
necessarily be costly, and in the 2,974Z. — 34Z. 11«. Id, per head —
spent on these special eighty-six, there was probably not much margin
for wofol waste. Of the 19,7962. the Guardians had spent that
year, they had spent, I found, 6,320i. on the rehef of 573 out-paupers,
twenty-eight non-resident paupers, and eighty-six aMcted persons,
together with the sick relief of the whole district. Of the 936 persons
for whom they had had to provide, they had, in fact, actually provided
for 687 — and eighty-six of these the most expensive of aU to provide
for — ^at a cost of 6,3202. This is, of course, exclusive of the cost of
the administration of the rehef. They must, therefore, have spent
no less a sum than 13,4762. on defraying the cost of administration,
and providing for 174 workhouse inmates, forty-eight workhouse
children, and twenty-seven vagrants, practically on boarding and
lodging 222 persons, and giving a night's shelter, together with a
snack meal or two, to twenty-seven more. Thus had they made
a clean sweep of the whole rehef paraphernalia — an impossible feat,
of course — and themselves dealt out to their prot^g^s the money
they spent, they would have been able to present to each of their
vagrants a shilling every night, and to each of their workhouse inmates
and school children 582. every year. On 582. a year many a curate,
as many a clerk, not only hves himself but supports a wife and &mily.
Of the 174 men and women who were on an average lodged in
the workhouse that year, forty-eight were in the infirmary wards,
which, however, are classed with the workhouse so far as expenses
are concerned. From the financial statement we learn that the
inmates cost 4«. a week each in food, and 6(2. in clothes. 6f d. per
head a day is not an extravagant allowance wherewith to provide
three meals for men and women, of whom one-fourth are infirm;
while 26«. a year per head as an allowance wherewith to clothe them
strikes one as being decidedly stingy. So far as these two items of
expenditure are concerned, the Guardians may fairly claim that
if they err at all in their treatment of their indoor charges, it is on
the side of economy, not lavishness.
The next item on the list is ' Necessaries,' which includes, we are
told, gas and water. For this the cost per inmate is 28. b^. a week,
which, compared with 4«. for food and 6(2. for clothing, seems some-
what high, especially as in workhouses not aU necessaries are classed
as necessaries. For drugs and medicine there is a separate charge,
one of 6«. 10(2. a year per inmate, just as there is a separate charge
of 8«. 1(2. per inmate for * Establishment,' which is defined as ' miscel-
laneous items not included elsewhere.' The three special necessaries
for which the 28. b\d. a week was paid, were lighting, heating and
washing; and a glance at the Guardians' coal bill explained how
much of the money went— explained other things, too, perhaps
incidentally. In the course of that year, in the workhouse alone,
265 tons of coal were burnt, while in the workhouse laundry the
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1906 POOB'LAW EXPENDITUBE 409
consumption was 411 tons. Four hundred and eleven tons of coal
were burnt, it seems, heating the water wherewith to wash the paupers'
bits of things, together of course with their caretakers' collars and
CU&. The year's coal bill for the workhouse, the workhouse school,
together with the laundry, amounted to 679/.
As each inmate in this workhouse costs in food 4^. a week, in
clothes 6d., in washing, heating and lighting 2«. 5|(2., and in drugs
and establishment charges 14«. lid. a year, the cost per head there,
exclusive of housing and surveillance, is 18Z. 168. 9d. a year. Now
the cost of housing could not be very great, one might think ; for the
workhouse, together with the casual wards and workhouse school,
was built and paid for years ago, and for some time past has under-
gone neither enlargement nor alteration. One might think, I again
say advisedly, for if one did thus think one would again be sorely
mistaken; as, according to their budget, the Guardians had spent
in the course of that year 1,1532. on repairs and additions to their
property, the only addition being a children's lavatory; and 319L
more on new furniture. They had paid away 5252. on rents, rates,
taxes and insurance, although they had not rented even a shed;
and 1,6631. on the repayment of and interest on loans for building
purposes. Thus the Guardians had, as a point of fact, spent 3,6602.
that year on the upkeeping of the workhouse, the casual wards and
the school ; that is, on providing housing for their indoor chaises,
together with their officials, and defraying the cost of the housing
provided by their predecessors. And, at the end of it all, so far as
non-official eyes could see, not a building they had was one whit the
better on the last day of the year than on the first. This 3,6602. was
no extraordinary expenditure, it must be noted ; indeed, the Guardians
had spent that year rather less than usual on housing. During the
years 1901, 1902, and 1903 they borrowed and spent solely on patching
up their laundry 3,8192. They actually spent 3,8192. on patching up
the building in which the paupers' bits of things are washed, in addition
to the 3412. they spend each year on heating the water wherewith to
wash them. Three thousand six hundred and sixty pounds a year for
the housing of 249 persons is roughly 142. lis. per head. Thus each of
the Guardians' prot6g6s, workhouse inmates, school children and
casuals, all reckoned together, had cost their fellows for housing alone
142. lis., just about as much as the average working man in that
district pays for the housing of himself, his wife and family.
To the non-official mind the Guardians' expenditure on housing
may seem to smack of extravagance, nay, even of woful waste ;
still, everything depends on what it is compared with, and compared
with their expenditure on surveillance, it is moderate.
Attached to the workhouse, as apart from the workhouse school,
there are no fewer than eighteen regularly appointed officials who
devote, or are supposed to devote, the whole of their time, thought
Vol. LVUI— No. 848 B B
Digitized by VjOOQlC
410 TBE NINETEENTH CENTURY Sept.
and energy to taking care of its 174 inmates, and giving a glance
from time to time at the twenty-seven casnalfl — the casual ¥rards
form part of the workhouse. These eighteen are in addition, of course,
to the various officials who devote only a portion of their time to this
work. There is a master, a matron, a master's clerk, a porter, three
nurses, a cook, a female attendant, and a laundress. There is a tramp-
master, too, a tramp-mistress, a labour-master, and a shoemaker.
These officials, however, excepting perhaps the master's clerk, one
would expect to find in any such union as this ; although, were the
place managed on business principles by a master who had to pay the
wages out of his own pocket, I am inclined to think that one man
would have to combine the roles of tramp-master and labour-master,
and one woman those of tramp-mistress and, perhaps, female attendant.
Nay, I have even doubts as to whether it would not be found that
two nurses could do the work now done by three ; while I feel fairly
sure that the well-paid able-bodied porter would have to yield up his
place to some old pensioner, who would be well content with board
and lodging as a return for his services. But if we might expect to
find these officials in this workhouse, there are others there for whose
presence it is difficult to account. There is an engineer and fitter,
for instance, who is paid at the rate of 21. 28. a week ; a carpenter,
who receives 11. lis. 6d. ; a stoker, who receives II. Ss. ; and a handy-
man, who receives 11. 128. 6d. Now what can a small workhouse
have for a skilled engineer to do, or a stoker, or even a carpenter,
considering all the money paid to outsiders for repairs ? The engineer
and the stoker are employed in the laundry, it seems — the handy-
man, too, for the most part — ^where their business is to assist at the
burning of all that coal. In bare wages alone the eighteen workhouse
officials receive 8892. a year ; and this is by no means all they do
receive, as twelve of them are also housed and fed — some of them are
even clothed — at the ratepayers' expense, and ten of them will sooner
or later receive pensions. In rations and fees of one sort or another
they cost the ratepayers, in addition to their salaries, roughly 6001. a
year.
Then, among the officials who devote only a portion of their time
to the workhouse there is a doctor, who receives a salary of 126Z., in
addition to vaccination fees ; a chaplain, who receives one of 1001. ; as
well as an organist, a dentist, and a stocktaker. Nay, oddly enough,
the workhouse has even its own lawyer, who is paid 2001. a year for
his services. Still his salary cannot fairly be counted as a workhouse
expense, as his special duty is to help the Clerk to the Guardians, who
receives a salary of 2761., to take care not of the paupers but of the
Guardians themselves. Exclusive, however, of such functionaries
as the lawyer and the Guardians' clerk, the officials who are, or have
been, regularly attached to the workhouse entail in salaries, fees, rations,
uniforms, medical attendance, and superannuation, an expenditure of
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1906 POOR-LAW EXPENDITURE 411
1,8732. , and this even if one-half the salaiies of the chaplain and the
dentist be counted as school expenses. These officials had actually
received in money or in kind 1,873!. the year in question for taking
care of 174 workhouse inmates, and keeping safe for the night some
twenty-seven vagrants. Nor is even this sum the be all and end all
of what they cost the ratepayers, as some of them receive special fees
for their work ; while others have to be supplied with such things as
stationery, postage stamps, and, perhaps, even carriages from time to
time. Besides, a fair amount of the money spent on housing — repairs,
furniture, &c. — was spent on their account rather than on that of their
charges, it must be remembered ; as well as an unfair amount, pro-
ably, of that spent on coal. I very much doubt whether 2,2601,
would really cover all the expense these official caretakers entail;
still, even if the sum be reckoned at 1,873!., and 162Z. or 6Z. per head —
salaries of the tramp master and mistress, Ac. — be deducted for the
surveillance of the vagrants, these workhouse inmates cost in sur-
veillance 91. 16«. 9d. a year each, or 3«. 9\d. a week, that is only 2|d.
less than they cost in food. In food, clothing, necessaries, drugs,
establishment charges, housing, and surveillance, every man and
woman in the workhouse costs the ratepayers 432. Is. bd. a year ; the
174 of them, therefore, cost 7,6461. And that is without any allow-
ance whatever being made for office expenses, any allowance being
made either for the reduction effected in the cost of their maintenance
by casuals being counted as going share and share alike with them
in the cost of housing. The full cost of their maintenance, there-
fore, cannot fall far short of 602. a year per head, a sum on which
middle-class widows manage sometimes to bring up half a dozen
children respectably.
Vagrants with all their faults do not entail great expense, so far,
at least, as the actual reUef they receive is concerned ; for there was
never yet a Board of Guardians inclined to be too lavish with money
when they were in question. The exact cost to the ratepayers of the
twenty-seven vagrants who, on an average, sojourned in this union,
night by night that year, cannot be given, as the casual wards are
supplied with food from the workhouse kitchen, and no separate
account of it is kept. Still, 6!. a year each, or 13&Z. for the twenty-
seven, would be a liberal allowance wherewith to defray the cost of
what they eat. The casual wards being part of the workhouse,
housing must be reckoned on the same scale for vagrants as for the
workhouse inmates, absurd as it seems to reckon 141. 14^. a year for
the use of a cell ; and the salaries, &c., of the officials who lock and
unlock their doors for them, entail an outlay of 62. per head. Thus
practically these twenty-seven vagrants cost the ratepayers 6932. 18^.,
although the relief they actually received cost them only 1352.
The children for whom the Guardians provide are lodged in ' a
building at some little distance from the workhouse, and are educated
E B 2
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412 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Sept.
at the diBtriot board school, a special grant being made in pajrment
to the school authorities. The forty-eight bojrs and girls who were
there that year were fed at a cost of 3s. 5d. a week each, clothed at a
cost of li. 2ld., and educated at a cost of 21. lis, 9d. a year. The
expenditure on necessaries was Is. 5d. a week, that on coal alone
being lOlZ. for the year; while that on drugs and establishment
charges was lis. lid. Exclusive of the cost of housing and surveil-
lance, therefore, the outlay on each child amounted to 191. 3s. lid.
a year ; and the cost of housing was, as we have seen, 14Z. lis. a year.
As for surveillance, much as it costs to take care of pauper men and
women, it costs still more, it seems, to take care of pauper children.
Although these boys and girls spend most of the day away at school,
they have no fewer than seven officiak who live with them, and, in
theory, at any rate, devote their whole time to looking after them.
And all the seven not only receive salaries, but are housed and fed —
some of them are also clothed — at the ratepayers' expense, and will
later in life be pensioned. There is a master, a matron, a nurse, a
cook, two general assistants, and an attendant, who Uve in the build-
ing itself ; while there is a doctor who is specially paid to go there
from time to time, and the school has a recognised claim on the services
of the chaplain attached to the workhouse, as well as on those of the
dentist. In the course of the year officials of one sort or another had
received in money, or in kind, 7971. solely for taking — or having taken —
care of forty-eight children out of school hours ; for each child they
had, in fact, received 161. 12s. Id. To think of a child whose food costs
81. lis. 8d. a year, and whose education costs only 21. IZs. 9d., costing in
surveillance 161, 12s. Id. ! Exclusive of office expenses, these children
had entailed an outlay of 2,4241. ; each one of them, therefore, had cost
the ratepayers 501. 108., more than twice as much probably as, on an
average, the ratepayers' own sons and daughters had each cost them.
Of the 19,7961. the Guardians had spent that year we know now
what became of 16,9842. ; for, as we have seen, they spent on support-
ing, on an average :
458 ont-relief cases . . . .at
28 non-resident oases
86 persons in asylums, &o.
174 workhouse inmates
27 vagrants • . •
48 children
And on medical relief .
16,984
As for the remaining 2,8122., some 1,3162. of it went in miscellaneous
expenses. The Guardians spent 2352. on stationery, printing, and
advertisements, and 1061. on Munatic removals,' that is on taking,
perhaps, a dozen men and women from the workhouse to the asylum
a few miles away. They spent also 1782. on the relief of the non-
£ <.
</.
£
5 12
0-per case
2,564
4 18
6 „
188
84 11
7 per head
2,974
48 7
5 „
7,540
25 14
0 .,
694
50 10
0 „
2,424
•
•
644
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1906 POOR-LAW EXPENDITURE 418
settled poor ; 302. on an audit stamp ; 2921. on pa}dng a loan adjufit-
ment account; and 2652. on buying stones for vagrants to break,
wood for them to chop, and keeping a piece of land for the inmates
to work on. Then they had had funerals to pay for, and extra ex-
penses to defray in connection with housing and cleaning, in connec-
tion, too, perhaps, with that cormorant, their laundry. The rest of
the money, 1,4961., went to the officials, that is, went the same way
as so much of the money credited to the workhouse and the school.
The Clerk to the Guardians received 2251. in addition to the 501. he
received for assessment work ; the assistant clerk received 1201. ;
tiie soUcitor, 200{. as salary, and an extra 112. as fees ; while the two
reUeving officers each received 1501. ; and a rate collector, 2451. Thus
the office officials, as apart from those attached to the workhouse and
the school, were paid 1,1012., while their predecessors were paid as
pensions 3952. more. Exclusive of the fees they had received for
i^pstration and assessment work, and for non-pauper vaccination,
the Guardians' officials had cost them directly in salaries, fees, rations,
and other allowances 4,8072., in addition to all that they had cost
them indirectly in new furniture, building repairs, extra laundry-
work — and coal.
This is a large sum of money to spend on the mere administration
of the relief of the poor in such a district as this ; so large is it, indeed,
that it justifies to the full the ratepayers in talking of woful waste.
Does anyone suppose that this stmi, or half this sum, would be spent
if the control of the administration, instead of being vested in a com-
mittee of irresponsible amateurs, was vested in a practical business
man who had to pay all salaries out of his own income. How such
a man would scofiE were it suggested to him that he should give a
lawyer a retaining fee of 2002., on the ofi-chance of a httle legal advice
being required. How he would scoff, too, were he told that he must
spend 1,8732. a year on caretakers for 174 workhouse inmates, with a
few casuals thrown in ; and 7972. more on caretakers for forty-eight
school children. He would make short work, I have never a doubt,
of those eighteen officials who hang about the workhouse all day ;
would make short work, too, of the seven other officials who hang
about the school. The work that is done now he would manage to
have done, and better than it is done now, I am inclined to think, with
balf the number of officials, and at less than half the cost. For the
real work of the union, it must be remembered, is done, for the most
part, not by the officials, but by the inmates themselves, with a
helping hand from the casuals. And these inmates are none the
better for having superfluous attendants around them, while the
school children are infinitely the worse. They, poor Uttle mites ! are
positively demoralised by seeing those in authority over them just
wasting time doing nothing, and are turned into Uttle machines by
not being allowed to do anything themselves. For them it would be
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414 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Sept.
a positive gain phjndcally, morally, and in all other ways, if their
seven officials were banished, and a hard-working kindly man and
wife were installed at the school, with strict orders to let the elder
among them play the caretaker for the younger, and do as much of
the housework as they could, without interfering with their lessons.
And if this were done a saving of at least 5001. a year would be e£Eected,
even if the man and wife were given a strong woman servant to help
them, and a nurse was called in at the first sign of illness.
Then, at the present time the working of the laundry costs more
than 3002. a year in bare wages, although the really hard work is done
by the inmates ; and it costs in coal 3411. ; while 3,819{. was spent in
the course of three years on patching up the laundry building. Here
surely expenses might be cut down by considerably more than one-
half without any undue stinting, even though the laundry expenses of
infirmary wards must necessarily be heavy. No one man, let alone a
business man, would have spent 3,819?. on repairing an old laundry when
he could have built a new one for less than half the sum — it is only com-
mittees who are capable of such doings. Nor would any one man
surely have spent 3,660J. in a year on the upkeeping of a couple of
buildings without having something to show in return for his money.
As for the Guardians' expenditure on stationery, printing, advertise-
ments, and the conveyance of lunatics, I doubt whether even a woman
would not be able to cut down that by two-thirds. Economies might
be effected, too, in the spending even of the 2,5647. that goes in out-
relief ; for, although the out-relief grants now made could hardly be
reduced in amount, they might easily be reduced in number, and with
advantage all round. That there should be 573 outdoor paupers in
this prosperous district, is just as startling a fact in its way as the
fact that there are outdoor paupers there who are expected to live on
lid. a day. Either these people are destitute or they are not ; if
they are destitute they ought to receive much more than they do receive ;
and if they are not, they ought not according to the law as it stands
to receive even the mite they do. The sort of all-round dole-giving in
which these Guardians indulge is as wasteful as it is demoralising and
cruel.
So far as I can judge, taking one thing with another, no return
whatever is obtained for one-half at leitst of the money this Board of
Guardians spend : all that they do for the poor, and much besides,
might be done, or so at least it seems to me, at half the cost, were the
doing of it in the hands of persons who understood their business and
insisted on having a full penny's worth for every penny they spend.
For, after all, it is not much that they do for the poor ; their outdoor
charges would die of sheer starvation in a very few weeks had they
nothing but their pauper-relief to live upon ; while as for the inmates
of their workhouse, although they have all enough to eat and to
spare, the more worthy among them have not very much besides —
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1906 POOB'LAW EXPENDITURE 416
not enough of the things worth having to prevent Ufe being a sorry
burden.
In this very district I once came across an old couple who, as their
faces showed, were canying on a hand-to-hand fight against hunger —
they were out-paupers Uving on 28, 6(2. a week each. When I asked
them why they had not applied for an increase in their allowance,
they told me they were afraid to do so lest they should be sent to the
workhouse, ' and rather than that we would starve,' the old woman
declared stoutly. A year or two later she was sent to the workhouse,
to this very workhouse in which every inmate cost the ratepayers
iZL a year ; and within a month she died ^ of the shame of it,' as she
had prophesied she would.
Even for the money the Guardians lavish on the children under
their care, no return worth having is obtained. These boys and girls
bear the pauper stamp when all is said and done, although they do
each cost the ratepayers 602. a year. One has only to look into their
faces, and watch the way they trail their feet, to know that they
belong to the pariah class, and are out of touch with their fellovrs.
Many a dirty little street urchin, who depends for his daily bread on
chance snacks, leads a happier Ufe than they do, and is being better
fitted than they are to do work worth doing in the world. Those
grumbling ratepayers are right. There is undoubtedly woful waste,
gross mismanagement too, in the way poor relief is administered.
Now, this inquiry of mine may seem a mere parochial matter,
one of no interest whatever excepting to certain ratepayers. So it
would be, of course, were it not that the Guardians whose accounts
I have been sifting are typical Guardians, neither better nor worse
than their fellows ; and the imion for which they act is a fairly typical
union — ^as things are there so are they elsewhere. Thus we may take
it for granted that as they spend their money other Guardians spend
theirs ; we may take it for granted, in fact, that as a good half of the
19,7961. spent on the relief of the poor in this one district was just
swattered away, not far short of half the 12,848,3232. spent on the
relief of the poor of the whole country was swattered away also. And
although the woful waste of a few thousands may concern only the
parish, the woful waste of millions concerns the whole nation. Surely
the time is come for mending, if not for ending, our present amateurish
system of poor-relief administration.
I once asked a citizen of Copenhagen why his town had made a
clean sweep of Poor Law Guardians, and had installed trained officials
in their place. ^ The amateur administrator is too costly a luxury
for so small a country as ours,' he repUed promptly. ' It suits us
better to pay a man to do our work well than to have it done gratis
and badly.'
Edith Ssllbbs.
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416 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Sept.
AGNES SOREL
So much glamour has attached, and rightly so, to Joan of Arc, the
soldier-saviour of Charles the Seventh of France, that another woman
— ^Agnes Sorel, Charles's good angel of a less miUtant order— has been
almost entirely overlooked, and, where she has been remembered, has
been treated by the few with the honour due to her, and by the many
merely as Charles's mistress. Whereas Joan of Arc may be likened
to the archangel Michael with slashing sword, Agnes Sorel may be
compared to the archangel Raphael, the guardian spirit of humanity.
To her it was given to be the great inspirer of Charles, and whatever
good this weak king and ungrateful man did for his country may
assuredly be in large measure attributed to her influence, just as the
greatest merit that can be recorded of him personally was his devotion
to her whilst she lived, and to her memory after she had passed away.
Agnes Sorel came, as it were, between tiie ebb and flow of the late
Middle Ages and the Renaissance, when chivalry, not as a passing
emotion, but as an education, still lingered in men's relations with
women. Respect for womankind had grown in the Middle Ag^ in
France under the double influence of religion and chivalry, of which
the cult of the Virgin and the cult of woman were the outcome. In
honour of both men strove in tournament and fought in battle.
With the cry * For our Lady,' or * For God and my Lady,' men hurled
themselves into the thick of the strife as if the goddess, whether
divine or human, in whose name they made venture, had made her
champions invulnerable. And, in a manner as it would seem of action
and reaction, the goddess became humanised, and the woman deified.
The former tendency may be traced in miracles attributed to the
Virgin, in holy meditations, and, later, in the * Mysteries,' and the
latter in tales of chivalry, where love is treated as a gift from heaven,
and the recipients of it are idealised. Stories which seem to contradict
this, and to refute all accepted ideas of chivalry and honour, are
frequently original only in details, the bases being borrowed from
Oriental tales. Buddha's country, the land of the 2ienana, supplied
much material of an exaggerated nature which in the West became
mere caricature.
It is always difficult to determine exactly the origin of anything so
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1906 AGNES 80BEL 417
subtle as a aentiinent, especially one which gradually pervades and
inflaenoes a people. It is, in its way, at first like a soft breeze, of
which we can only see the effect. But as we try to discover some
definite, if only partial, reason for this interchange of simple human
relations between the Virgin and her votaries, we remember that
St. Frauds, the embodiment of exalted human sentiment, had lived,
and that scholasticism was on the wane. Hence spiril, which had so
long been restrained, and which is ever in conflict with form, again
prevailed, and mankind discovered that a loving Mother had taken
the place of a stately Queen in the Heavens. This attitude towards
the Virgin is revealed in the miracles attributed to her agency. It is
also shown in one of the greatest works of piety of the thirteenth
century, the Meditations on the Life of Jesus Christy of St. Bonaven-
tura, which, through the medium of the ^ Mysteries,' introduced into
sacred pictorial art some of its most dramatic and appealing scenes.
Where is there to be found anything more tenderly human than the
incident of ' Christ taking leave of His Mother ' before His journey to
Jerusalem to consummate His mission ?
This note of the womanly element in its fairest form, gradually
faisinuating itself more and more, and permeating life, art, and litera-
ture, is the key to the right understanding of the position which
woman, not only as an individual but also as a class, was henceforth
to take in the civilised world.
Before turning our special attention to Agnes Sorel, let us recall
the condition of France at the beginning of the fifteenth century.
When the lunatic king Charles the Sixth died in 1422, and Charles,
his son, at the age of nineteen, succeeded under the title of ^ King of
Bourges,' Paris was held by the Burgundians, who were in league with
the English. The Dukes of Burgundy and of Brittany were alike
vacillating in their policy, being at one time attached to the king's
party, and at another allied to the English. With the exception of a
few castles, the strongholds of lords loyal to the Crown, the English
possessed the whole of France north of the Loire, from the Meuse to
the Bay of Mont St. Michel. Hither the Duke of Bedford was sent
as regent for the EngUsh king, Henry the Sixth, then ten months old,
who, by the terms of the Treaty of Troyes (1420), was the lawful
king, the right of succession having been conferred on his father,
Henry the Fifth, when he married Catherine, the daughter of Charles
the Sixth of France.
Charles the Seventh divided his time between Bourges and Poitiers,
where the government was carried on, and the places he dearly loved,
Loches, Chinon, and Tours, in which he sought the soUtude he craved
for. But even in these seemingly peaceful retreats, his lethargy and
indolence were disturbed by perpetual intrigues, which it must be
admitted were largely fostered by his own caprices and fickle affections.
Meanwhile a cry of misery was arising from the war-devastated land.
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418 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Sept.
Churches and oon vents, oastles and cottages, were all fallen into rainy
and brambles grew in the untilled land where once had waved golden
com. As Alain Chartier wrote at the time, *' Les pajrs champestres
sont toumez k Testat de la mer, oii chascun a tant de seigneurie comme
il a de force.' Men of all conditions, from the proudest lord to the
poorest peasant, joined in spasmodic and detadied efforts to drive out
the English, but with the result that they did little else than harass
them. Want of cohesion was the characteristic of the national
resistance, until, from a small village in the east of France, t^ere
appeared a deliverer in the person of Joan of Arc. Instantly, as if
her sword were a magic wand, all the fighting men, impelled and
inspired by the strength of her personality, rallied around her, and
victory was assured.
The story of the siege and surrender of Orleans, of the crowning
of Charles in Rheims Cathedral, of Joan subsequently falling into the
hands of the Burgundians, who sold her to their allies, the English, of
her shameful trial and cruel death, are facts so well known, that they
may well be passed over here as briefly as possible. Suffice it to say
that, except for a time, even the triumph of this maiden-patriot did
little to rouse the indolent king, who speedily returned to his setfish
life in Touraine. War, pillage, and anarchy again devastated France.
But gradually a change came over Charles. He seemed to awake as
from a stupor. Dissolute and self-seeking favourites were dismissed,
and the king was surrounded by able and high-minded men. He
bestirred himself to make a final peace with Burgundy and Brittany,
and to take a part in the war which was still smouldering, though
there were signs of its approaching end.
What was the secret of such a chaiige ? When we consider the
king's life before he came under the influence of Agnes Sorel, and his
relapse into indolence and debauchery after her death, we can only
attribute it to her sympathetic and wise guidance. Joan of Arc
represented the popular element, Agnes Sorel the aristocratic. Joan
of Arc aroused the people to united action by her enthusiasm and
success, Agnes Sorel completed the consoUdation of the kingdom by
inspiring and sustaining the king. Perhaps no one man could have
accomplished such a revolution. It took two women to do this, and
what they did was not of mere passing worth. Phoeniz-Uke, France
uose from the ashes of the Hundred Years War, and it was Agnes
Sorel, as priestess, who stirred the embers which hid the new life.
Voltaire, generally more ready to scoff than to approve, wrote
thus of Agnes Sorel :
Le bon roi Oharles, au printemps de sea jours,
Avait ferouv^, pour le hion de la France,
Une beani^, nomm^o Agnes Sorel.
Was it for the good of France ? Let us disregard prejudices and
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1906 AGNES SOBEL 419
examine facts. Even then, if all that is known of her were written,
it oould only bear to this rare personaUty the resemblance which a
faint refle<5tion does to reaUty.
Agnes Sorel was born about 1410, in the Castle of Fromenteau, in
Tonraine. Her father, Jean Soreaa, or Sorel, was lord of Condon,
and belonged to the lesser nobiUty. It was in this beautiful country
of forest and meadow-land, of silvery rivers and meandering streams,
that Agnes lived imtil about her fifteenth year, her education being
principally religious, for reUgion naturally held the first place in a
sodety which still retained faith in the supernatural. It was cus-
tomary at that time for girls of noble birth to complete their education
either at Court or at the castle of dome princely person, for such
places were considered excellent schools of courtesy and other virtues
for the daughters as well as for the sons of the nobility.
It was to the Court of Lorraine that Agnes was summoned as
raaid-of-honour to the Duchess Isabelle, wife of Ren6, Duke of Anjou
and Lorraine and Count of Provence, a prince distingaished for
chivalry and learning. This intellectual and chivalrous atmosphere
must have been peculiarly congenial to the sympathetic and versatile
nature of Agnes Sorel. We can picture her listening to the Duke
R6n6 reading his latest poem to one or two of his brother poets in
the castle pleasaunce, or discoursing on philosophy or statecraft, or
attending some briUiant pageant or sumptuous/^. Chivalry, though
dead as an institution, still survived as a recreation, and, as an appeal
from the past to the cultured imagination, and Bene, medisBval
knight that he was in sentiment, dearly loved the gorgeous spectacle
of a tournament, with the knight jousting in honour of his chosen lady.
At this Court Agnes also came under the influence of Yolande of
Aragon, widow of Louis, King of Naples and Sicily, great-grand-
daughter of King John of France, mother of the Duke Ben6, and
mother-in-law of King Charles the Seventh, a woman renowned for her
extraordinary political capacity. All these ties, and the remembrance
of the French blood in her veins, emphasised Yolande's dominant
passion — the love of France — and it may well be that in this patriotic
atmosphere Agnes Sorel became imbued with a like passion, which
later she was to develop in all its perfection, rivalled only by her
devotion to the well-being and glory of her royal lover.
Patriotism was a virtue of recent growth in France ; for, in order
to thrive, it requires unity of idea, and during the Middle Ages the
only- idea common to all was Christianity, which, from the nature of
its teaching of humility and fraternity, does not make for patriotism.
It may cement the structure, but it does not form the basis. It was
only after years of suffering and unrest that men learned to sink their
individual and local interests in those of the nation as a whole. Then,
and only then, could patriotism arise, and only under such conditions
could it flourish.
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420 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Sept.
How long Agnes lived at the Court of Lorraine (one of the most
refined and cultured Courts of the time), and how her first meeting
with the king came about, is uncertain. It is possible that she may
have been at the coronation at Rheims, in 1429, or that she may have
accompanied Isabelle of Lorraine to Tours, in 1431, when the latter
went to beseech the king to use his influence to deliver her husband
from prison. We should like to think that it happened in the latter
way, for this would lend additional interest to the exquisite miniature
in the BibUothdque Nationale (at one time in the Book of Hours of
Etienne ChevaUer, now for the most part at Chantilly), which it seems
probable represents Agnes Sorel as a youthful shepherdess, witii the
Castle of Loches in the background, and Charles the Seventh riding
towards her. As has been already suggested elsewhere,^ this may
have been a poetical rendering of their first meeting. We at least
know for certain that from the year 1432, when Isabelle went to
Naples during the captivity of her husband, Agnes was no longer in
her service. It seems more than probable that she had already
attracted the notice of Charles, and that in this year she took up her
residence in Touraine, no doubt gaining her influence over the king at
first by her beauty, which all her contemporaries proclaim, and after-
wards by that mysterious combination of ability and grace, of intelli-
gence and ph3rsical vitaUty, which held him captive for nearly twenty
years. During this time she, like a true woman, and no ordinary
place-hunter, made his devotion to her react upon himself, for the
good of his country and to his own honour. She not only counselled
him wisely heiself , but persuaded him to surround himself with wise
counsellors.
Of these counsellors, and the able and devoted men who served
the king in divers ways, some few stand out more prominentiy than
the rest, because of their position of intimacy in the royal circle, and
their special and enduring friendship with Agnes Sorel. Such were
Etienne Chevalier, treasurer of France, Pierre de Brez£, of a noble
Angevin family, and s6n6chal of Normandy after the expulsion of the
English, and Jacques Coeur, the king's goldsmith and financier,
whose house at Bourges, with its angel-ceiled chapel, still delights the
traveller.
Etienne Chevalier was for some time secretary to the king, and,
after filling one or two smaller poets connected with finance, was
made treasurer of France, and member of the grand council. In
addition to administrative capacity, he possessed a briUiant intellect
and a great love of art. It is to his initiative that we owe the only
suggestions in portraiture of Agnes Sorel. It was to him also that the
king confided the supervision of the erection of the monuments to
her memory at Jumi^ges and Loches — Jumidges, where she died in
1450, and where her heart was buried, and Loches, her favourite place
* Athenaum, June 25, 1904.
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1906 AGNES 80BEL 421
of sojourn, and to whose church and chapter she had made large gifts.
To Loches her body was borne in royal splendour, and laid to rest in
the choir of the church, where her simple tomb, long since removed
to a side chapel, may still be seen. We can imagine the loving care
with which Etienne Chevalier watched, and possibly even gave sug-
gestions to, the sculptor as he worked at her recimiberit effi^ repre-
senting her with a Book of Hours in her hand, her feet resting against
two lambs, and her head guarded by two angels with outstretched
wings. Perhaps this stone effigy was the one true portrait of Agnes,
but the head and face were partiaUy destroyed a few years after the
Revolution, and restored in their present form in 1806, so that httle
of the original now remains.
This tomb has a strange and chequered history. Soon after tiie
death of Charles (1461), the Chapter of Loches made request to Ix)ui8
the Eleventh to have it removed to a side chapel, since they con-
sidered it unfitting for the dust of such an one to repose in the choir.
Louis, using his subtlety to better purpose than was his wont, replied
that, if they removed the tomb, they must return her gifts. Naturally
the^ worthy ecclesiastics silenced their consciences, and kept the
tomb where it was. In the reign of Louis the Fourteenth it was
removed to its present position in the side chapel, and in 1793 it was
rifled, her dust cast to the winds, and the features defaced. But
what matter ? Agnes had done her work, work which had to be done,
and which she alone could do.
Another of the little band of chosen spirits of which Agnes was
the soul and centre was Pierre de Br6z£, lord of Varenne and Brissac,
who early showed himself a man of affairs, and was admitted to the
king's council when he was but twenty-seven. In war, administra-
tion, and finance he proved himself equally trustworthy and skilful,
and to these qualities he added others of a brilliant intellectual nature.
He advanced from one post of trust to another, until the king him-
self presented him with the keys of the city and castie of Rouen.
Thus he became B6n6chal of Normandy, an honour which remained
in his family. One of his descendants, Louis de Br6z6, was the hus-
band of Diane de Poitiers.
Jacques Cceur, whose life was so intimately associated with the
Court during Agnes's lifetime, and so sadly marred and ended after
her death, was the son of a simple merchant of Bourges. Following
in the wake of many adventurous and ambitious merchants of the
time, he journeyed to the East, and amassed a large fortune, which
he placed at the disposal of the king. This enabled Charles to carry
on the war in spite of his impoverished exchequer, and to make a
final and successful effort against the Enghsh. But, like many
another on whom Fortune has smiled, evil tongues and envious
hearts began, ere long, their vampire work, and after the death of
his friend and patroness, Agnes Sorel, Charies made no effort on hia
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422 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Sept.
behalf, bat left him at the mercy of his calumniators in the same
base and heartless way in which he had abandoned Joan of Aic.
Jacques, his goods confiscated, and his life in danger, was obliged
to fly the country, and died fighting, in the Pope's sendee, against
the Turk.
Of the beauty of Agnes Sorel there can be no doubt, for all con-
temporary chroniclers and poets tell of it. Even the Pope, Pius
the Second, allowed himself to descend from his frigid heights of
supposed indifEerenoe to feminine charm to add his tribute of praise
to the -general homage. Considering that there are so many types of
physical beauty, appealing to as many different temperaments, there
must have been something rare and remarkable in Agnes to have
attracted and held bound aJl who came in contact with her. Wc can
but conclude that this unanimous judgment could only have been
the result of that mysterious union, so illusive, so indefinable, of
spiritual with physical beauty. The records of the time merely tell
us that she had blue eyes and fair hair in abundance. The only
picture we can judge her by — for the miniatures, by Fouquet, at
Chantilly, from Etienne Chevalier's Book of Hours, though exquisite
in delicacy, are too minute for much characterisation — ^is, even if we
accept it as the original from Fouquet's hfmd, an overdeaned work
in the Museum at Antwerp. This, or the original painting, formed
a wing of the diptych painted to adorn the tomb of Etienne Chevalier
and his wife in the cathedral of Melun, the other wing — now in the
Royal Museum, Berlin — ^representing Etienne Chevalier himself, in the
attitude of prayer, his patron saint, St. Stephen, beside him.
Of the miniatures at Chantilly, the whole series of which forms
a most tender and rare tribute to friendship, only brief mention can
here be made. The most simple and beautiful in sentiment and
design is that of the AnnunoiaUon, in which the seated Virgin, in the
likeness of Agnes Sorel, with bowed head receives the angel's message.
The scene is laid in a Gothic chapel, with statues of the Prophets all
around, and Moses, holding the Books of the Law, as the central
figure of the group. This assemblage of Old Testament seers certainly
typifies the Old dispensation, whilst the Annunciation prefigures the
New, and to us the whole may not unfitly form an allegory of the
new order which Agnes Sorel was to help to bring about. In another
miniature — The VisU of the Afo^'— Etienne Chevalier himself, as one
of the kings, kneels before the Virgin, here also represented in the
likeness of Agnes. And so on, throughout the series, in all the scenes
of the Virgin's Ufe, we find her bearing the features of Agnes until
an older and sadder tjrpe becomes necessary in the Crticifixion, the
EfUanibmerU, and the Annaunoement of the Deaths and the Death, of
the Virgin. When, however, death has transfigured age and sorrow,
the Ukenes% of Agnes reappears in the Assumjitiony the Coronation^
and, the crowning glory, the Enthronement, of the Virgin.
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There is only one nnanimons opinion concerning Agnes Sorel, and
that is as to her beaaty. For the rest, it would seem as if prejudice
and flattery held the scales. The mean is difficult to discover, and
perhaps it is only possible to get somewhere near it by studying
results — ^the remarkable change in Charles's life and conduct from
the time when Agnes appears to have first come into his life, until her
death.
In the face of conflicting records, it is no easy matter to determine
when Agnes Sorel first became the king's mistress. In 1436, when
the Treaty of Arras was concluded between Charles and the Duke of
Burgundy, Cardinal de Sainte-Croix (afterwards Pope Pius the Second)
was Papal legate at the French Court, and aided in the negotiations*
He tells in his memoirs that the relation between Charles and Agnes
was known publicly at the time, and that the king could do nothing
without her, even having her at his side at the royal councils. The
trustworthiness of this statement has, however, been so questioned,
that it seems safer to endeavour to arrive at the truth from other
sources. It is an admitted fact that in 1433 the manner of Charles's
life entirely changed. Though doubtless the politic Tolande, Charles's
mother-in-law, and Marie of Anjou, his wife, exercised some influence
over him, the change was so sudden, and, while it lasted, so radical,
that it is difficult to see in it merely the outcome of this home influ-
ence, which had already existed for some years, and which continued
after the death of Agnes* with the same almost negative result. In
that year the infamous favourite, La Tr6mouille, who had been the
king's evil genius for six years, was dismissed, and soon after we
read of favours granted by the king to Agnes's relations. From that
time Charles ceased to spend his time, as it were, in dreamland in the
fair Touraine country, and engaged himself in affairs of State, listening
to and accepting wise counsels, favouring the restoration of schools
and tmiversities— which, in the uncertain state of the country, had
almost ceased to exist — and encouraging the final efforts to expel
the national enemy, even at times personally joining in the fight.
If we see in this the guiding spirit of Agnes, the secret of her influ-
ence is- not very difficult to discover. Apart from her beauty, which,
with Charles, would be a potent factor, Agnes had a woman's insight
and skill in her relations with him, ever holding up to him the glory
and obligations of kingship, at the same time herself entering, with
all the vitality of her extraordinary nature, into his favourite pas-
times. We know that in one or other of her many residences near
CSiinon or Loches, she and the King often spent the evening playing
piquet or chess (the latter being his favourite game), and then, on
the morrow, rode forth together to the chase. So the days were
passed in work and simple outdoor pleasures, Agnes taking no recog-
nised public part in the king's life, but devoting herself heart and
8oal to the task she had in hand. But besides these relaxations of
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424 THE NINETEENTH CENTUB7 Sept.
peaoe, there was also the reality of war ; for the war still lingered on,
though feebly. The English had lost their ally, the Duke of Bur-
gundy, as well as Bedford, the able Regent, and there was no fit man
to take the latter's place. Paris opened her gates to Charles in 1436,
and in the following year Ciharles, after having reigned for fourteen
years, made his first State entry into the capital of his kingdom,
mounted on a white charger, the sign of sovereignty. In 1444 a
treaty was concluded at Tours with the English, and, to make the
compact doubly sure, Margaret of Anjou, a niece of the king, was
married to Henry the Sixth of England. For about a month the
Court and its princely visitors gave themselves up to feies and pageants,
and it was during this time of rejoicing that the position of Agnes
was officially recognised. She was made lady-in-waiting to the Queen,
and took a prominent part throughout the festival. Charles gave her
the royal castiie of Beaut6, on the Mame, near the Bois de Vincennes,
* le plus bel chastel et joly et le mieux assis qui fust en Tlsle de France,'
desiring, as was said, that she should be * Dame de Beaut6 de nom
comme de fait.' From the time of her public recognition she ap-
peared with the king at all the brilliant festivities celebrated in
honour of treaties and marriages. She also sat in the royal council,
a position which, as a king's mistress, she was the first to occupy,
though we know that Henri the Second took no step without &st
conferring with Diane de Poitiers, and that Madame de Maintenon
sat in Louis the Fourteenth's privy council.
The change which came over France after the Treaty of Tours
was marvellous, alike in its extent and its rapidity. Commerce was
again resumed between the two nations ; men and women once again
ventured without the city walls, to breathe, as it were, the fresh air
of liberty ; and those who had been called upon to fight returned to
their work in the fields or the towns. We cannot better voice the
feeling of the people than by borrowing the song of a poet of the
day:
Le temps a laiss^ son mantean
De vent, de froidure et de ploie,
Et s*est vStu de broderie,
De soleil rayant, olair et bean ;
n n'y a beste ne oiseau
Qn'en son jargon ne chante oa orie :
Le temps a laiss^ son mantean.
Now that Agnes had assumed a definite role at Court, she lived
principally at Loches, where the king assigned to her ^ son quartier
de maison ' within the castle, and also gave her a residence without
the walls. Here she shone like a radiant star ; for although the king
did not have much personal influence on the movem^it in art and
letters, his Court was the meeting-place of many distinguished and
intellectual men. Among them we find the name of Alain Chartier,
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1905 AGNES SOREL 425
the poet, and sometime secretary to the king, and one of the am-
bassadors who went to Edinburgh to ask the hand of the little Mar-
garet of Scotland for the Dauphin. We remember him now chiefly in
connection with the charming story told of this girl- wife of the Dauphin
Louis. Betrothed to Louis when she was a child of three, and sent
to France to be brought up at the C!ourt, she was married at twelve
to this boy of thirteen, who could not possibly appreciate her simple,
sweet nature which endeared her to all others. One day as she was
passing with her ladies through a room in the castle, she saw Alain
Chartier lying on a bench asleep. She approached quietly, and
kissed him, much to the surprise of her attendants that she should
* kiss so ugly a man.' And she made answer : ' I did not kiss the man,
but the precious mouth whence so many beautiful and fair words
have issued.' Poor little poetess ! Fortunately her life was a short
one. She died when she was just twenty-one, with these words on
her lips : ' Fi de la vie de ce monde, ne m'en parlez plus.'
The last scene of Agnes's life was pathetically interesting. Her
end came almost suddenly. The king, listening to advice, had
resolved to continue the war in Normandy, and, at the instigation of
Agnes, if we may believe the words of a courtly writer of the time,
had himself gone to the front. Rouen was taken, and Charles entered
in triumph. The streets were decked with flowers and branches, and
the houses hung with rich draperies, and everywhere the leopards
and quarterings of England had been replaced by the fleur-de-lis.
Charles, preceded by a gorgeous procession of archers, each company
arrayed in the livery of its lord, and carrying his special banner,
followed, xmder a canopy, on a horse caparisoned to the ground with
blue cloth sprinkled with fleurs-de-lis of gold, surrounded by princes
and the principal captains and officers of the Crown. Slowly he
made his way to the cathedral through the shouting multitude, and
to the sound of many fiddles and the fanfare of trumpets. There he
descended, kissed the relics as he knelt beneath the great portal,
and -then entered its hushed and solenm dimness to return thanks.
But scarce had the air ceased to ring with the plaudits of the people
when the report of a plot against the king, devised by the Dauphin,
is said to have come to the ears of Agnes, and she hastened to the
king at Jumi^ges, whither he had retired for a short rest during the
unusual and inclement winter. Here, stricken by a mysterious sick-
ness, by some attributed to poison, she died in February 1450, in her
manor of Mesnil, near the Abbey of Jumieges. The king was with
her to the end, and could only be induced to withdraw when her
lifeless form sank back in his arms. So died this wonderful and
fasdnating woman, who had lived and laboured for her country
through perhaps the most critical period of its history.
Bearing in mind the condition of France at the time of Agnes
Sorel's accession to power, the extent of the influence she admittedly
Vol. LVm-No. 843 FF
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426 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY S<5pt.
exerciBed in the counselfl of the king, and the great change whioh
came over the royal fortunes, and the fortunes of tiie country, during
the years of her ascendency, it is scarcely possible to refuse to her
some share in the recognition so lavishly bestowed upon the other
great woman of that time — Joan of Arc. The one may be said to
have been the complement of the other. Both were necessary to
the needs of the day, and the glory of successful accomplishment
should be shared between them.
Alios Ebmp- Welch.
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1906
AOYAGI {GREEN IVILLOIV)
THE STORY OF A JAPANESE HEROINE
I do love
My country's good, with a reapeet more tender,
More holy, and profound, than mine own life. — Suakbspeabe.
Who woold not bleed with transports for his country,
Tear every tender passion firom his heart,
And greatly die to make a people happy ? — Thomsok.
This little historical story of an heroic woman in medisBval Japan
may elucidate something of the spirit which is the primal cause of the
phenomenal patriotism found in the Japanese people, which has been
BO markedly made manifest in the present war witii Russia, and which
has created so much comment and aroused not only admiration but
wonder and curiosity in the minds of both friendly and hostile critics.
The courage which has made the Samurai of a past day and the
Japanese soldier of the present so supremely indifferent to death has
been attributed to mere Oriental fatalism. But this is a mistake.
The Japanese soldier goes forth to war not with the belief that his
fate is unalterably fixed outside all individual effort or action on his
party bat with the burning desire, the consuming hope, that he may
be called upon to die for the glory of his country. * A man can only
die once/ said a convalescent soldier at the Red Cross Hospital to a
friend of mine, * and it is best to die on the battlefield.'
In Japan the individual life, soul, honour, and virtue, if necessary,
must be sacrificed to duty; and the highest duty is summed up in
one word — ^loyalty ; loyalty to his lord for the Samurai in feudal times,
loyalty to the Emperor for the subject and soldier nowadays ; and
this passion for loyalty to lord and country has with the roll of years
gained such an impetus that it has mounted to a flaming of patriotism
that bums away all before it in its onward-rushing zeal.
In what way, it may be asked, does their patriotism differ from
that of the West ? The essential difference is an ethical one. In
the West the ultimate salvation and expression of the self in things
both great and small, materially and spiritually, temporarily and
427 F F 2
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428 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Sept.
eternally, is the goal of life and religion : * What does it profit me if
I gain the whole world and lose my own soul 1 ' says the Christian.
The Japanese would say : * What does it matter if I lose my body and
soul in doing my duty 1 ' The doctrine of self-effacement, of the
subject for the Emperor, of the retainer for his lord, of the son for the
father, of the wife for her husband, has been since the dawn of history
the religion of Japan.
And for the Japanese woman in all ages, and under all circum*
stances, loyalty to her husband or master was the supreme duty.
The fire of zeal and constancy to purpose with which she has at times
risen to accept her fate has often transformed the simple childlike
slave into an unconscious heroine, and the influence of such women is
at times as powerful to gird men with strength as they go forth to war
as in countries where the worship of woman is the more open — the
inspiration as strong though its source be hidden.
And the spirit of the Spartan woman who gave her warrior son
his sword with the words : ' Return, my son, with thy shield or upon
it,' finds its counterpart in every true Japanese woman's heart.^
Death for her husband and son on the battlefield is embraced with
chastened joy rather than defeat or surrender, the last being a word
synonymous with cowardice in the sentiment of the nation. There
are stories of olden times where a devoted and loving wife, fearing
that the thought of her and of their mutual love might weaken hei
husband's courage in facing death, and scorning to be a source of
weakness to him, has died by her own hand first, consumed with
longing to transmute herself and her love into an inspiration of strength
to him in doing his duty.
Such is the story of the unflinching heroism of Aoyagi, brave wife
and patriotic to Lord Eimura Shigenari, tributary Daimio to the
House of Toyotomi — a story of the fall of the castle of Osaka in the
beginning of the seventeenth century.
The great Taiko Hideyoshi's plans and arrangements to secure
the inheritance to Hideyori, the son of his old age, his favourite
Yodogimi's child, had all been frustrated by the ambition of leyasu
Tokugawa. Aiming at absolute dominion, leyasu, on the death of
Hideyoshi, entirely disregarded his obligations and oath of fealty to
the Taiko's heir. By the decisive battle of Sekigahara in 1600,
leyasu asserted his authority over the House of Toyotomi, but the
long struggle then begun only culminated with the fall of the castle
of Osaka in 1615.
For years leyasu planned and waited, and waited and planned,
* Only the other day on the dead hody of a soldier was found a letter from his
mother in which she told him it was her hope that he would never return, that he
would die fighting for his country. One widowed soldier before starting to the front
killed his two little daughters—the only tie that bound him to life.
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1905 AOYAGI (OBEEN WILLOW) 429
and his relentless web of machinations was woven closer and closer
round the fated House of Toyotomi. With wily diplomacy the astute
statesman affected a policy of clemency towards the defeated, and as
time slipped slowly by he drew to his side through bribery, first
distracting them by making them quarrel amongst themselves, all
those powerful Daimio who would have risen in arms to punish him
for his disloyalty to his late master's son had he hastened, after
Sekigahara, tiien and there to sweep Hideyori from his path.
Meanwhile, Todogimi and Hideyori, both bent on restoring their
house to its former power, were safely ensconced in the castle of
Osaka, the strongest fortress in the empire, and while watching them
develop their futile conspiracies against himself in much the same
way as a spider watches a fiy, leyasu schemed to draw them from
the stronghold and thus obtain peaceable possession of it. But
though morally weak, Todogimi was an intelligent woman, and was
wise enough to prevent hersdf and her son from falling into this trap.
In 1605 she finsdly sent word to the Shogun that rather than quit the
castle, she and her son would commit harakiri. And so the great and
tragic struggle, seething with dramatic side-issues, wore on to its
bitter close.
At last the Shogun determined to crush the house of Toyotomi
before he died, and, on the pretext that Hideyori was plotting against
him, became so exorbitant in his demands that Hideyori was driven
to throw down the gage for battle. The crisis came in 1615. Even
Hideyori's partisans knew that the fall of the castle was only a question
of time, for the General Ono in command was an inefficient soldier,
who owed his position to the favour of Yodogimi, who had long taken
the young and handsome soldier as a lover ; indeed, though Hideyoshi
had evinced the greatest rejoicing over Hideyori's birth, there were
few Japanese who believed that he was in reality the Taiko's son.
Owing to the General Ono's paramount influence with Todogimi,
there was much discord and discontent among the other captains in
the Osaka camp. All the powerful Daimio had deserted Hideyori's
cause and gone over to the enemy, actuated by leyasu's bribes and
selfish motives, or by the grudge they owed the General Ono.
Kimura Shigenari, a young warrior of only twenty-one years of
age, of great valour and determination, and as handsome as he was
brave, was the only lord who remained with the unfortunate house
to the last, and owing to this, though so young, he took a prominent
position in Hideyori's affairs. In the many negotiations carried on
between the court of Osaka and leyasu he took part, and displayed
great shrewdness in the way he concluded his missions.
In the last momentous embassy, when two of Yodogimi's ladies
were sent down to leyasu at Shidzuoka to apologise for the inscrip-
tion on the great bell cast for the new Daibutsu Temple, at which
leyasu had taken umbrage on the ground that the hieroglyphics
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480 TEE NINETEENTH CENTURY Sept.
fonmng his name had been used in a derogative sense to himself,
Eimnra had accompanied them, disgoised as a woman. It was
considered necessary that the ladies should have the support of a
trusty Samurai who understood the conditions of the Shogun's court,
and Kimura was chosen for this delicate task. It was prohibited by
the court regulations that a man should form part of a lady's suite,
so Kimura was disguised as a young woman. This proves, says the
Japanese chronicler, how handsome the young knight was, for effemi-
nate beauty was the style in vogue in court circles.
Kimura's mother had been nurse to Hideyori, and he and his wife
Aoyagi were devoted to the house of ToyotomL
Aoyagi, our heroine, whose name means ^ Oreen Willow,' was a
daughter of Susukida, one of the commanders of Bldeyori's forces.
She was renowned for her beauty, which surpassed that of all the
other ladies in the castle. Ono had loved her before her marriage
with Shigenari, but she had repulsed his suit, for she was clever enough
to discern the weakness of this man's character. Her marriage with
his rival, Kimura, proved to be a very happy one.
When Kimura Shigenari saw that all hope was lost for Hideyori's
cause, he decided to strike one more desperate blow for his lord, and
to die on the field if the battle went against him. There was perhaps
in his heart a forlorn hope that he might for a time drive back the
attacking enemy as he had done six months before in January, when
with 8,000 men he had completely routed them from before the
castle. At any rate, with the courage that comes of desperation he
determined not to survive defeat. On the 1st of June 1615, while
Sanada the Ronin was fighting a stubborn battle at Domyogi, twelve
miles from the castle, Kimura at the head of 10,000 troops threw
himself in the way of Yao six miles from the castle to block the Toku-
gawa advance on that side. The brave young knight with six hundred
of his men went down in this engagement, and in the flight which ensued
several hundred more were lost. It was the beginning of the end.
Everyone knows the fate of the great castle, how the last disastrona
battle was fought two days later, and how, traitors having set fire to
the fortress from within, Hideyori committed suicide and Yodogimi
was killed by a retainer in the midst of the flames.
And now, having devoted so much time to the historical setting,
we turn back to the hero and heroine, Kimura and his beautiful yonng
wife,' Aoyagi.
Before setting out for the fatal fight, Kimura took a small incense
burner in which he had set alight some of the rarest incense he conld
obtain — ^made probably, as they are still, in miniature leaflets or
flower-shaped tabloids, flecked with gold, and over the rising spirals
of fragrant smoke he placed his helmet.
It was the custom in those times for the conqueror to cut off the
vanquished foe's head, and to carry it to the general in commauid as
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1906 AOYAQI (QBEEN WILLOW) 481
evidence of his exploits ; tiie nobler the victim the greater the merit
did the slayer obtain. Eimura, feeling himself doomed, with that
wonderful premonition that so often comes to those about to die, had
anointed himself in this way to preserve his knightly honour and his
pride of birth unstained among the promiscuous dead before the
enemy even in death.
Aoyagi, as we see her in the picture, helped him anoint and per-
fmne his head. Kimura then took the helmet from the attendant's
hands, and, placing it on his head, he tied the cords in a tight knot
instead of the usual bow, and cut ofi the ends to show that it was the
last one he would ever strap, and tiiat he never intended to undo it.
Great must have been the yoimg knight's anxiety at leaving
Aoyagi at this time, and his heart must have been torn with sorrow
as he turned away from the porch and left her bowing to him in fare-
well, for the hopes of motherhood had overshadowed her, and the
young lives thrilled to the pulsing of a child-heart to be bom to them.
But no tears, no weakening expressions of regret or pain, no clinging
hand-clasps or embraces marred the marmoreal calmness of that
parting. They passed away from each other's sight with only the
tisual greeting, though their souls must have been strung with the
tension of a drawn bow by the knowledge that never more in life would
they behold each other.
With her servants kneeling on the mats around her, Aoyagi knelt
on reverentially in the porch till the sotmd of the horse's hoofs died
away in the distance. Dismissing all her attendants, she then retired
to her room. She needed time to think, for as her husband had pro-
ceeded with the pathetic sacrificial rite of incensing his helmet, Aoyagi
had divined his resolution — she knew full well that he had made up
his mind to die. In the stillness of her room, as the shock of realisa-
tion shook her and then passed away leaving her pale as the petals
of the white lotus, while her eyes darkened with pain and unshed
tears, a great fear seized her. In the hour of battle, in the stress of
the fight, the memory of their great mutual love might surge over
him, and anxiety for her in her grief and loneliness might weaken
his courage — ^his determination to fight to the death. She must not
allow the remotest possibility of such a chance, and so she too resolved
to die. Sinking down in front of her writing-table, Aoyagi prepared
some ink, and taking up a roll of soft, creamy paper, composed the
following letter to her husband, which has been the admiration of
every Japanese man and woman ever since.
Ich^a no kage, ikka no nagare, koretasho no yen to uketamawari soro m
koso. Somo ototose no koro yori shite, kairo no makura wo nashite, tada kage
no katachi ni soga gotoka omoimairase soro. Konogoro uketamawari soraiba
kono JO kagiri no yosbi, kage nagara ureshin mairase soro.
Morokashi no Kowo to yaran wa yoni takeki mononofa naredo, GuBhi no
ame nagori wo oshimi, Kiso Yoshinaka wa Matsudono no tsnbone ni wakare
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482 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Sept.
WO oshimishi to yara sareba yoni nozomi kiwamaritara warawa ga mi nite wa,
semete wa onmi gozonjo no uohi ni saigo wo itashi, Shide no michi to yaran
nite machiage tatematsuri soro.
Kanarazu, kanarazu Hideyori Ko tanen umiyama no ko-on on wasure naki
ya, tanomi ageraairase soro.
Ara ara medetaku kashikn.
Tsuma yori.
Shigenari Sama,
Nagaio no kami.
Even to rest together in the shadow of one tree, or to drink together from
the current of one stream, I hear that this is the result of an affinity in a
previous life. So for the same reason since the year before last our pillows
growing old together as the shadow is always with the substance, so has my
heart been always with you.
In these times I hear that you are preparing for a last battle in the world,
and though I am only in the shadow, I am pleased to hear it.
Ko of China was very sorrowful at parting with Gushi, fierce soldier though
he was, and Yodhinaka of Eiso also grieved at leaving his wife the Lady Matsu
— at least I am told so.^ I must not allow you to hesitate on the field because
of the remembrance of me. I — your humble servant, who has no more hope in
life — to prove a little of my faithfulness will therefore take my life while you
are still living, and I shall respectfully await you along the Way of Death.
Without fail, oh I without fail do not forget the many years of favour you have
received from our Lord Hideyori.'
I petition for this with all respect and joyfully congratulate you.
From your wife.
To Shigenari,
The Lord of the Province of Nagato.
Having despatched this letter in a lacquer box tied about with a
silken cord and tassels, by a trusty messenger, Aoyagi went to her
room. From the shrine-shelf tenderly she took the small incense-
burner which had been used in the impromptu ceremony of perfuming
her husband's head and helmet, and, putting it on her table, set alight
a tiny rod of incense.
Beneath her she spread a large white mat which she fetched from
the comer of her room, and seating herself on this she tied her obi in
front as for the dead. With great deliberation she took her short
dirk from her girdle, and unsheathing it held it in her right hand
while in her left she grasped a rosary. For a few minutes she stayed
thus, repeating a holy invocation to Buddha — * Namu Amida Butsu,
Namu Amida Butsu,' and sending her soul and thoughts out to the
husband she loved so well that rather than be a source of weakness
to him in doing his duty, she chose to die. Suddenly her right hand
went upwards, and the knife was plunged up to the hilt in her slender
white throat, severing the great artery. All Samurai women were
trained to know the vital spot, and Aoyagi's hand, wondrous small
« This is a humble form of expression used by women — they must never assert
anything.
* This means that Aoyagi hopes her husband will die fighting for Hideyori.
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1905 AOYAGI (GREEN WILLOW) 438
and slender though it was, erred not, and it was strong, for she was a
trained fencer with the naginata (halberd) like the women of her time.
She fell forward with a moan on the white mat while the life-blood
ebbed away in a crimson, gurgling stream. So the household found
her.
Before the letter reached her husband, Aojagi had crossed the
river of Death {Sansu no kawa), and was waiting on the 'further
shore ' (Higan), as it had been her daily wont to wait to give him
glad and humble greeting on the threshold of their home.
The letter reached Kimura just before the battle. After reading this
inspiring missive the warrior's heart was more than ever strengthened
in its resolve to fight to the death rather than to survive defeat. As
has been told, he fell with six htmdred of his men at Tao, where he
attempted to check the advance of the enemies' troops on the castle.
He was found as he lay dead on the field, and his head, as the
chief trophy of the day, was cut off and carried in triumph to the
Shogun.
leyasu and his generals all noticed the aroma proceeding from
under the incensed helmet. They understood from this and from
the knotted chin-strap the resolution of this brave warrior to sacrifice
his life for loyalty even in a cause he knew to be hopeless, and tears
rose to their eyes as they gazed upon his face.
leyasu the Shogun confronted the head and addressed Eimura
as if he were alive.
' Who taught you this refined taste, for you are a yoimg man to
know such things ? A veteran warrior, it is true, contrives to dis-
tinguish his head from those of common soldiers. But this con-
trivance of yours surpasses that of any old Samurai I have yet seen.
Oh the pity of it that you should have died ! Had you lived you
would have made a great general ! '
The odour of the incensed helmet has passed away, but the fragrance
of the happy memory of the knight Eimura and of his brave wife
Aoyagi will be stirred and wafted forever along the ever-lengthening
vistas of time, and their story will be told and venerated as long as
the empire of Japan lasts.
Yei Theodora Ozaki.
ToHo.
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484 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Sept.
T//£ /DECENT INCREASE IN SUNDAY
TRADING
The steady increase in Sunday trading demands the serious attention
of all wlio are interested in the welfare of our great cities.
The Lord Mayor of Manchester recently called a conference of
shopkeepers at the town hall to consider the question. In his opening
remarks he stated that Sunday opening was on the increase. He
expressed his own opinion that retail traders ought to have their
Sundays to themselves, and that
it is desirable that steps should be taken to prevent a continnanoe of the
present state of things.
The meeting was large and representative. Mr. Kendall, the
able secretary of the Manchester and District Grocers* Association^
moved, and Mr. Openshaw, president of the Manchester and District
Meat Retailers* Association, seconded a resolution declaring
that this meeting of representatives of retail traders canning on business in
the city of Manchester regrets the alanning amonnt of Sunday trading con-
ducted in Manchester, as shown by the recent canvass, and fully borne out by
the report presented to the Watch Committee by the Chief Constable, and in
expressing their disapproval of trading on the Lord's Day (Sunday), appeal to
all traders to close their business premises and cease to trade on Sundays.
This was carried ahnost unanimously. In Liverpool also the
law is at present nugatory. But this is not because the local authority
are unwilling to intervene. The Town Council have resolved
that having regard to the large amount of Sunday trading in Liverpool,
such being prejudicial to the best interests of the community, the Council
petition the Prime Minister and the Home Secretary in support of Lord
Avebury's Bill for the suppression of Sunday trading, and requesting that it
be made a Government measure.
What is happening all over the cotmtry is that one man, often a
foreigner, goes to a place and opens a shop on Sunday. Then those
in the immediate neighbourhood, and in the same way of business,
finding their customers going to their rival, follow his example, and
gradually more and more open.
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1905 THE INCREASE IN SUNDAY TRADING 486
In Leeds the number of shops open on Sunday is estimated at
over 2,000 ; in Glasgow, over 3,000 ; in Liverpool, nearly 5,000 ; in
Manchester and Salford, 8,000 ; the great Sunday fairs in Petticoat
Lane, the Walworth Koad, &c., are a disgrace to London.
Sunday trading is indeed at present illegal, but the law is in most
places inoperative because the fine is only nominal, being limited to
five shillings. Moreover, the law is unjust, because where it is put into
operation, as for instance, to their great honour, by the Corporation
of Hull, while the five-shilling fine is sufficient to close the very small
shops, some of the larger ones look upon it as a mere increase to their
annual expenses, pay the fine, and defy the law. The Chief Constable
of Hull gave evidence before the House of Lords Co^nmittee that the
present law is not sufficient to cope with the evil, but that in his
judgment our Bill would meet the case.
The shopkeepers themselves are anxious to keep closed, provided
all do so. Having been in close touch with them for many years in
reference to early closing, they have urged me, if possible, to secure
for them their Sunday's rest.
The Sunday Closing (Shops) Bill is their Bill. It is supported,
with, so far as I know, only one exception, by all the great shopkeepers'
associations — as regards the grocery trade, by the great Orocers'
Federation, the Northern Council of Grocers' Associations, the grocers'
associations of Bath, Belfast, Blackburn, Bristol, Cardiff, Darlington,
Exeter, Gateshead, Leeds, Liverpool, Newcastle, Oldham, Portsmouth,
Sheffield, Swansea, Swindon, and about one hundred other places.
As regards butchers, by the National Federation of Meat Traders'
Association, with over ISO affiliated associations in all parts of the
United Kingdom ; by the Butchers' Associations of London, Glasgow,
Birmingham, Liverpool, Manchester, Salford, Grimsby, Preston,
Rochdale, Bury, Oldham, Bradford, Leamington, Malton, Dewsbury,
Derby, Leeds, Lancaster, Colchester, Selby, Norwich, Lincoln, and
about 100 other places.
As regards hairdressers, by the Hairdressers' Federation, and over
100 local associations. As regards drapers, by the Drapers' Chamber
of Trade, and the Drapers' Association of Liverpool, Bradford, and
other places.
Also by fruiterers, fishmongers, milksellers, fruit and vegetable
dealers, bakers and oilmen ; by a large number of the local tradesmen's
associations ; by the National Chamber of Trade, which has affiliated to
it over 100 local associations and comprises over 100,000 members ;
in Scotiand by the two great associations — the Scottish Shopkeepers
and Shop Assistants' Union, and the Scottish Traders' Defence Asso-
ciation— ^which are giving us their cordial and powerful support.
The bakers were represented before the Committee by Mr. Seward,
President of the Bakers' Protection Society, and of the Joint Parlia-
mentary Committee comprising the National Association, the London
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436 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Sept.
A&sociation, and the Scottish Association, with branches all over the
country, and he told the Committee that they are all unanimously
in favour of the Bill.
In short, the Bill is supported by over 300 tradesmen's assodations
in all parts of the country. It is sometimes said that these associa-
tions represent the larger shops only. For this assertion there is
not the slightest foundation. It was emphatically contradicted by
various witnesses before the House of Lords Conmiittee. In fact,
the great majority of the members are in but a small way of business.
Moreover, I have received and presented a large number of petitions
in favour of the Bill, one with no fewer than 83,000 signatures.
I ought perhaps to say a few words about the barbers. The
present law does not aSect them, as technically the establishment
of a barber is not held to be a shop. When I first drafted the Bill I
proposed that barbers might open up to 10 o'clock on Sunday morning.
The Hairdressers' Federation, however, and their afiSliated associations
all over the country, urged me to omit the provision, as they most
urgently desired to secure the Sunday rest, and the Bill as it stands
represents their general desire and has their warm support.
So &r, then, as the shopkeeping conmiunity is concerned the
consensus of opinion is very great, and there are two circumstances
which render it even more overwhelming. The measure has been
considered by shopkeepers' associations all over the country, yet so far
as I am aware there is only one which opposes the Bill ; and, secondly,
in almost every case the resolution in its favour has been unanimous.
Perhaps, then, I shall be asked why, if shopkeepers are anxious to
close, do they not close now ? If it is their general wish that shops
should be shut on Sunday, why is there any need for a BiU ?
This question was put to several of the witnesses before the Com-
mittees both on the Early Closing Bill and on the Sunday Closing Bill,
and the answer invariably was : ' We should much wish to close if all
did so, but if a few insist on remaining open, all in the same kind of
business feel they must do so too.' I may give an illustration. One
of my correspondents writes to me that being much opposed to Sunday
trading he determined to keep closed. In a short time he lost most
of his little capital, and then he opened and made money. When he
thought he had made enough he closed again, and now he writes me
word that he is nearly ruined again, and compelled once more to
open ; and he ends his letter, ' I am a hatter.'
If I do not dwell on the assistants it is because the measure is so
obviously in their interest that I believe I may say they support it
unanimously. It is, I think, unnecessary to go into detail to show this,
but I would strongly urge that the extreme importance of the Sunday
closing to the health, happiness, and character of shop assistants must,
and I feel sure will, commend the Bill to favourable consideration.
Our local authorities are strongly in favour of Sunday closing.
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1905 THE INCREASE IN SUNDAY TRADING 437
I have already refeiied to Liverpool and Manchester. I may also
quote Belfast, Hull, Edinburgh, Glasgow, Middlesbrough, Swansea,
and over fifty other towns, and the Council of the Urban District
Councils Association, which represents over 490 urban districts and
has passed a unanimous resolution in favour of the Bill.
As regards the convenience of the pubUc, and especially of the
poor, many trades councils — ^which I may observe represent the
various trades unions in each district — have passed resolutions in
favour of Sunday closing, including those of Glasgow, Edinburgh,
Dublin, Bradford, Bristol, Camberwell, Hull, Nottingham, WalsaD, &c.,
the Scottish Trades Council and the Irish Trades Council, while the
London Trades Council are in favour of the closing of shops on one
day of the week, though not necessarily on the Simday.
What, then, is it that we propose ? The main provision is the
increase of the fine. We suggest leaving the first offence with a
nominal penalty of 5^., rising to \l. for the second and 5/. for the third
and subsequent convictions.
No one can say that these penalties are excessive, but it is believed
they will be sufficient. The object of our Bill is not to make Sunday
trading illegal; it is illegal now. The object is to make the present
law effective.
That being so, however, it has been thought necessary to introduce
certain exemptions. In the poorer parts of our great cities, and
especially in London, in thousands of cases a whole family live in
one room. It is felt that, especially in hot weather, it would be a
great hardship if they had to purchase fish, vegetables, and other
perishable articles of food overnight. The sale of bread, fish, vege-
tables and cooked meat is therefore permitted up to nine in the morning.
That of tobacco is permitted during the time when public-houses
are open.
llie Bill does not affect the sale of newspapers, of milk, cream,
or refreshments.
Perhaps a word should be said about public-houses. They have
always been dealt with by separate legislation, and as they will remain
open, as well as for other reasons, we felt that it was undesirable
to close shops or stalls for the sale of tea, coffee, mineral waters, fruit,
and other 'refreshments.' In consequence of these exemptions the
Bill is, I regret to say, opposed by the Lord's Day Observance Society.
It is, however, warmly supported by the Lord's Day Rest Society, who
think as we do that the exemptions suggested are really necessary.
The BUI, therefore, is simple, but its effects would be very far-
reaching. It would profoundly influence the conditions of our great
cities, and is enthusiastically supported by those concerned. I had
hoped, after the passing of the Shop Hours Bill, that my work in this
direction was over, but have found it impossible to resist the appeal
made by shopkeepers and assistants all over the country.
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488 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Sept.
After an intereBtiDg discaasion the Bill was read a second time
in the Hoose of Loids without a division, and lefeired to a Selaot
Conunittee.
The Committee consisted of the Duke of Northumberland, Lord
Aberdeen, Lord Belper, Lord Derby, Lord Sandhuist^ the late Lord
Stanhope, and the Bishop of Southwark (Dr. Talbot), and did me the
honour of electing me chairman.
We made a careful inquiry into the whole question. They
approved the Bill, and drew up a unanimous report. They stated
that they had
heard evidence from forty-nine witnesses representing the principal shop-
keeping interests, especiaUy bakers, butchers, dairymen, drapers, grocers, and
hairdressers, and find that an overwhehning majority of tradesmen are in
favour of Suhday closing.
The majority of the witnesses expressed a strong opinion that the publio
would suffer no serious inconvenience if thb Bill were to become law. They
also stated that in their opinion the opening of shops on Simday was on the
increase, and that there was a serious danger that it would become the role for
shops to be open on Sunday, at any rate in the morning, unless this or some
similar Bill were passed.
Many witnesses called attention to the long hours of labour of small shop-
keepers and shop assistants. They also stated that many shopkeepers who
now keep their shops open on Sunday would gladly shut them, provided the
closing were general.
They sunmied up their conclusions in the following paragraph,
which I feel satisfied expresses also the general opinion of the shop-
keeping community :
The Conmiittee are convinced by the evidence that Sunday trading is on
the increase ; that the Bill is urgently needed ; that it is desired by the shop-
keeping interests, and would inflict no serious hardship on the poorer classes ;
that it would be a great benefit to the country generally, and that it commends
itself both to the reason and the conscience of the conmiunity.
The Committee thought that their inquiry covered the whole
field. When the Bill came back to the House of Lords no notice of
opposition was given, no amendment was proposed. Lord Lansdowne,
however, at once rose, criticised some of the details of the Bill,
intimating that he could not support it, and Lord Wemyss moved
the rejection, which was carried in a thin House and without notice
by a majority of twenty-one.
In thirty years of Parliamentary experience I never remember
the unanimous report of a Committee being so cavalierly treated.
It is, of course, impossible to regard such a vote, so obtained, as
expressing the deliberate judgment of the House, and the question
cannot rest where it is.
The feeling against Sunday trading is deep and general throughout
the country, and many even of those who now open would be thwkful
to shut if their rivals would do the same.
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1906 THE INCREASE IN SUNDAY TRADING 489
Lord Wemyss told tiie House of Lords that he spoke for 2,000
opponents of tiie Bill, but I have presented many petitions in favour
of our Bill, one with more than 83,000 signatures. Moreover, his
2,000 are breaking the law, and causing others to break it, while most
of our 83,000 are conforming to the law, and suffering for doing so.
The shopkeepers who open — or some of them — complain that they
will suffer pecuniarily if tiey have to close. At present, no doubt,
while other shops are shut, they reap a rich harvest.
But is this just ? The House of Lords Conmiittee observe on this
point that other
shopkeepers complain on this very ground, and, as it seems to the Committee,
with much reason. They urge that this trading is illegal, that it is hard upon
them to be placed at a disadyantage because they conform to the law, and to
see a large and profitable business taken away from them by those who set the
law at defiance.
Moreover, Mr. Forster, Rector of St. Mark's, Walworth ; Mr. Douglas Eyre,
Vice-Head of Oxford House, Bethnal Green ; and the Bev. A. J. Poynder, Rector
of Whitechapel, gave evidence as to the evil results of the Sunday fairs, espe-
cially those in Walworth and Petticoat Lane. Mr. Eyre said that ' the condi-
tions which exist in our neighbourhood have a most demoralising effect upon
the population, because it is not merely Sunday trading, but it has developed
into a regular Sunday fair ; whole masses of people are congregated together,
and that attracts all sorts and conditions of sellers and buyers, both the unde-
sirable traders and sellers, and the desirable ones ; wherever this concourse ii
gathered together there you get the professional gamblers and other people.'
B£r. Poynder also said, * The great need that impresses all of us busy workers
in my part of London is the fact that because of the noise and rush we do want
to safeguard the lives of our people by their having one day in seven. It is
necessary for brain and for body, qxdte apart from the religious aspect of the
question, for the moment, and by the stress at which we are all living down
tiiere, Sunday has become practically like any other day. The police estimate
that between 80,000 and 60,000 on a Sunday morning .... do their shopping
in our streets, and crowd our neighbourhood right up till noon, practically
converting the whole of the morning into an enormous fair. We have hat
shops, boot shops, clothing, and other kinds of shops open. The British
population say that they would lose their custom in a great measure if they,
in selMefenoe, did not open on Simday. The feeling is very dominant that
the result is that many of them have to work, whether they like it or not,
seven days a week.*
Mr. Forster gave similar evidence.
The shopkeepers themselves would gladly close, if all did so. Mr.
Eyre ascertained that out of 644 shopkeepers in the district 626 wished
to close, and only 119 to keep open.
It is only fair to acknowledge the wise and statesmanlike course
adopted by the leaders of the Jewish community.
The Jewish Board of Deputies, which is the representative body
of the Jews of the United Kingdom, deputed their president,
Mr. Alexander, K.C., to give evidence before the Committee. He was
accompanied by Mr. Henriques and Mr. Straus.
Mr. Alexander suggested several amendments, and pressed two
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440 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Sept.
especially, subject to the adoption of which he informed the Com-
mittee that the Jewish community would not oppose the Bill.
The fiist of these amendments was directed to prevent simul-
taneous prosecutions for several ofEences. The Committee considered
that this was sufficiently guarded against in the Bill, but they have
inserted an amendment which makes the matter perfectiy clear.
The second of the amendments brought forward on behalf of
the Jews was designed to prevent frivolous or vexatious prosecutions
by the insertion of the provisions contained in the Sunday Obser-
vance Prosecution Act, 1871. The Committee decided to insert this
amendment abo.
The Jewish costermongers, however, and many Jewish shopkeepers
oppose the Bill on the ground that they do a large and profitable
trade on Sunday.
No doubt they do, and this is the very reason for the Bill.
It is also often urged on their behalf that they close on Saturdays.
They open, however, at sunset, and thus secure the best part of the
Saturday's business. Moreover, while we treat them justly, and
inde^ gladly acknowledge that as a community they are excellent
citizens, still we may reasonably expect them to comply with our
law. Their own great lawgiver recognised no such claim as they
now make.
It is much to be regretted that the rest on one day in seven, as
to the necessity of which Christians and Jews are both agreed, should
be imperilled because they cannot agree on a day. Moreover, it
must be remembered that with all the changes in the calendar, with
leap years, &c., it is impossible to say to which day in our week the
Sabbath of Moses would correspond. It is quite as likely to be Sunday
as Saturday.
Much, moreover, of the opposition to the Bill is based on
erroneous statements which have been circulated with reference
to it. Circulars have been widely distributed, containing the asser-
tion that the sale of newspapers, tobacco, and mineral waters would
be prohibited under the Bill ; that no one could buy an apple or an
orange. These and other similar statements on which the opposition
was mainly based are entirely erroneous. The Bill did not prevent
the sale of newspapers, refreshments, or tobacco.
Shopkeepers complain that the present law is inoperative and
unjust. It is inoperative in most places because the penalty is so
small. Where, as for instance in Hull, it is put into operation,
it is unjust because it shuts up the small shopkeeper, while the
larger one pays his 58., snaps his fingers at the law, and opens
again.
It has been said that this is a * one man's Bill.' This is the very
reverse of the truth. I have shown that it has the warm and enthu-
siastic support of — in the words of the House of Lords Committee —
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1905 THE INCBEASE IN SUNDAY TRADING 441
the overwhelming majority of those concerned. As a matter of fact
I took up the question with some reluctance. Not from any doubt
of or lukewammess in the cause, but because I thought it should
be in younger and more vigorous hands. It was impossible for me,
however, to resist the pressure of the great Shopkeepers' Associations,
with whom I have been so long and closely connected in the cause
of early closing, and from whom I have ever received such warm and
generous support.
This is not merely a shopkeepers' question. It vitally affects
the health of our town population. The importance, I might almost
add, the necessity, of a day's rest cannot be over-estimated. As
Lord Macaulay well said : —
While industry is suspended, while the plough lies in the furrow, while the
exchange is silent, while no smoke ascends from the factory, a process is going
on quite as important to the wealth of the nation as any process which is
performed on more busy days. Man, the machine of machines, is repairing,
winding up, so that he returns to his labours on Monday with clearer intellect,
with hvelier spirits, with renewed corporeal vigour.
I have so far discussed the Bill on the grounds of health and happi-
ness. We do not, however, ignore die strong religious grounds on
which it appeals to the conscience of the nation. It has been supported
by numerous petitions from religious bodies and congregations.
I have been acting in consultation with his Orace the Archbishop
of Canterbury, the Bishop of London,' and the Bishop of South wark,
who acted on the Conmiittee.
One day's rest in seven, rest for the body and rest for the mind,
has from time inmiemorial been found of supreme importance from
the point of view of health. But rest of the spirit is even more
necessary. Philosophers, theologians, and men of business in all ages
have agreed that every man ought to be set free on one day in the
week to study, to pray, and to think ; to examine his own life, his
conduct, and his opinions ; to lift his mind and thoughts from the
labours and cares, from the petty but harassing worries and troubles
of everyday life, and of this splendid, but complex and mysterious
world, and to raise them to the calmer and nobler, the higher and
purer regions of Heaven above.
AVBBUBY.
' Of course I do not mean to commit them to the details of the Bill.
Vol. LVUI— No 343 G a
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442 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Sept.
A VICEROrS POST BAG
Under this title Mr. Macdonaghhas given to the world large extracts
from the correspondence during his term of office of the First Lord-
Lieutenant of Lreland after the Union, These papers, which, as he
mentions, were not even discovered to be still in existence by Mr.
Leoky, are of important bearing on a period of history often referred
to merely as a topic for indiscriminate and uncritical invective ; but
a careful and just appreciation of which throws much light on the
reasons for, and the real effect of, the Union. It explains the full
meaning of Lord Gastlereagh's words as to ' buying up the fee simple
of Irish corruption.'
Lord Hardwicke came into office with the Ministry of Mr. Addlngton,
who, with Pitt's full sanction, accepted the post of Prime Minister
when he, along with Lord QrenviUe and for a time Lord Castlereagh,
retired as being unable to carry out their views as to accompanying
the Union by the admission of Roman Catholics to full political
equality. The Administration was therefore * Protestant' in the
political sense of that day, as opposed to further concessions, at least
for the moment.
Beyond that the members of the Qovemment were not definitely
pledged. In Lord Hardwicke's own case it appears that he was rath^
in favour than otherwise of the principle of concession. He, however,
doubtless in consideration of the Eiog's known and determined
objections, considered it as for the time inexpedient.
It is important — to avoid an entire misconception of the condition
of things — to remember that the * emancipation,' which was not to
be carried out till 1829, concerned only a small part of the question
as it had stood ten or twenty years' earlier than the Union.
The whole of what are too well known as the penal laws had been
swept away in the interval between the introduction of the Parlia-
mentary system of 1782 and the rebellion of 1798. The exclusion
of Roman Catholics from the liberal professions was a thing long past.
Roman Catholic barristers of some years' standing are often referred
to in these pages and were prominent already before the Union.
The year 1793 had seen the admission of Roman Catholics to the
electoral franchise, though not to Parliament itself. They were for
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that time in a better position than their co-religionists in England.
It would be strange to suppose that the United Irish conspiracy, out
of which came the rebellion which still cast its dark shadow over the
years which these papers are concerned witii, arose out of special
Roman Catholic grievances, though Roman Catholic disafEection,
where it existed, was naturally blended with the revolutionary impulse
which had another source. The dominant fact in all the politics of
the dose of the eighteenth century was the democratic outburst in
France. Through the events of war it had spread over a large part of
Europe. Where its arms had not penetrated, its influence on men's
minds and sentiments was making its way. Almost every man
who thought of what was passing in the world around him was a
zealous aristocrat or a zealous democrat, and in the majority of cases
a fanatic in one sense or the other. It was, in the first instance, in the
North of Ireland, among the descendants of Scotch Covenanters and
English settiers who had fought against the Stuarts, that the Republican
passion took root. It seems strange to anyone living in the present
day to read of Belfast as the generally recognised centre of revolutionary
feeling. The Roman Catholics were under the influence of two
opposing currents. Traditionary antagonism to England and the
House of Hanover would incline them to the side of her enemies. But
Republicanism had only been known to them as the creed of their
bitterest enemies in the past. The connection with America, now so
important, then affected tiie north only, whence there was already some
emigration beyond the Atlantic. And no allies could be more
incongruous than the French of 1798 and the zealous Roman Catholic
peasants. One of the French soldiers who took part in the invasion
is related to have exclaimed that, having driven the Pope from Rome,
he and his countrjrmen had not expected to find him again in Ireland.
Tet before long the majority of Protestants came to see that, whatever
democracy might mean elsewhere, democracy in Ireland must mean
the rule of the Roman Catholics.
The Roman Catholics, on the other hand, saw that the Revolution,
whatever its eventual tendency, gave them the opportunity of revenge
on their hitherto domioant antagonists. And so the combination of
political and sectarian passions made the dark scenes of the struggles
of 1798 what they were.
These scenes, however, lie outside the period of this volume. It is
only concerned with the rebellion so far as in the first years of the
nineteenth century men still were walking over its smouldering ashes,
whence proceeded its last flicker in the wild attempt in Dublin, when
the war with France was abbut to be renewed. The armed insurrections
had been stamped out, the Union had been debated and passed, and
when Lord Hardwicke entered on his functions nothing remained
but to pay the bill. What that bill was the correspondence amply
shows. A heavy mortgage, to use the phrase of those who succeeded
u o 2
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444 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Sept.
to it, had been left by Lord Comwallis on the patronage of the country.
There was scarcely an office that the new Government could bestow
till those to whom promises had already been given could be provided
for. For though the Prime Minister and the Lord-Lieutenant and
Chief Secretary were changed, the Ministry of Addiogton was regarded
as a continuation of that of Pitt, heir to his general policy and to his
obligations. Now and then we may imagine, as we read the applications
addressed to him from all quarters, that Lord Hardwicke may not have
been altc^ether sorry to tell some importunate suitor who presumed
on acquaintance at home that unfulfilled Union engagements left him
no power of meeting his correspondent's wishes. That appUcations
are so many and vacancies so few as to leave Uttle prospect for an
appUcant, even though his name be put on the list, is, we imagine,
a formula not unknown in public offices even to-day. But it must
have been a heavy burden on a statesman in high places to be utterly
unable to give preferment to anyone on grounds of personal esteem
or confidence, and to have to fill every place that fell vacant with those
whose names had been given him in accordance with a predecessor's
engagements, persons of whom he had no previous knowledge, and
knowledge of whom was not likely to increase respect, as the services
they had rendered were simply the bargain in return for which he had
to bestow on them or their relatives all the salaried offices which came
to his disposal.
Apart, however, from the continuity of policy between the two
Ministries, it might be considered that the faith of the Crown was
concerned in the engagements entered into by its representative.
Had all responsibility for them been held to end with Lord Comwallis
the greater number of those who, in or out of Parliament, had helped
to carry the Union would have raised a plausible outcry against broken
pledges. Consequently, through the whole of Addington's tenure of the
first place, and, as it might be expected, during Pitt's return to, and
second holdingof, power, promotion continued to be given in satisfaction
of these promises. It was only on the accession of the so-called *' All
the Talents ' Cabinet, the coalition of Fox, Grenville, and Addington,
containing many members who had opposed Pitt's poUcy throughout,
that the few still unfilled engagements were treated as no longer
current coin. It is this condition of things which has been denounced
by opponents of the Union as eminently discreditable. Discreditable
undoubtedly it was to the large number of men who sold themselves
to the Government of the day for places or honours. But we cannot
admit that in justice the reproach should be applied to the statesmen
who carried the Union. The briber, we may be told, is a corrupter
worse than those who are corrupted. In this we are prepared to
contend there is a fundamental fallacy when appUed to affairs of this
kind. In the first place, the phrase of corrupter implies an erroneous
idea. It would have been indeed a marvel if any Government, or its
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agents, could have left the men they had to deal with in Irish politics
more corrupt than they found them.
It was a great misfortune that the Irish Parliament and the poUtical
life of Ireland should be influenced by a tribe of unscrupulous self-
seekers and place-hunters.
It was not a misfortune but an object worthy of statesmen that the
public life of Ireland should be rescued from their grasp even by
inducing them to sell the source of their power, the Legislature which
they were too well able to manipulate. A man induced by a bribe,
whether of one kind or another, to change his vote on a question of
national importance is necessarily dishonest in his motive. But the giver
of the bribe may be in motive wholly disinterested. His object may
be to use the only effectual argument to induce a dishonest man to
vote as, in his opinion, a man and patriotic citizen would do unbribed.
And who shall say that these were not the motives of Pitt, Castle-
reagh, and Comwallis ? That the Irish Parliament was ready to sell
itself is surely one of the best arguments for the measure that ex-
tinguished it as a separate body. The hitherto all-powerful ring of
jobbers had to be paid the fee once for all. But henceforth the
Administration might hope not to be longer in their thraldom.
Mr. Macdonagh had not access to the unpublished portion of the
correspondence of the then Chief Secretary,^ which was placed at the
disposal both of Mr. Froude and Mr. Lecky, on whose period it bore
retrospectively, and would have been open to the author of this volume
had his undertaking been known beforehand to the present writer.
In one of these letters the Chief Secretary is warned that the
position he had taken towards an influential poUtician was likely
to do him harm, that the Irish members, or many of them, were
drinking this individual's health. He replies that he looks upon the
person mentioned as the worst jobber in Ireland, that he imagines
if anyone drank his health he must pay him for it, and that he has
no doubt that what he thinks of him is perfectiy known to him.
Before the Union it might have been difficult for those connected
with the Irish Government to take this independent tone to men
whom they could not esteem, but whose power to embarrass them could
not have been disregarded. And there is evidence that Lord Hard-
wicke's Administration, though by no means on the popular side on
most questions of the day, enjoyed a popularity which many of its pre-
decessors had not, because it was felt that, where not hampered by the
past, that Administration was able and willing to govern in the public
interest rather than that of private persons. Its abihty to do so un-
happily did not extend to the giving of legal, civil, or even ecclesiastical
appointments, or the bestowal of honours by the Crown. Here and there
we find that it continued to give those who eagerly pressed their claims
to preferment some post in which they would not do harm instead of
* Mr. Abbot, afterwards first Lord Ck)lohester.
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446 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Sept.
'one to which they were clearly nnsuited. On the other hand, we find one
man most anxious to exchange for a post whose emoluments could be
enjoyed in England, without the performance of any duties, for one
which required him several times a year to visit DubUn and sign
certain accounts. We find one who was to receive a peerage, for
services in the passing of the Union, anxious to have it postponed for
a few years that the reason might not be obvious.
Even such a man as ^Humanity' Martin, the author of some
of the first measures against cruelty" to animals, distinctly says that
he may be compelled to go against a Gk>vemment which he had
hitherto supported, if he cannot obtain what he asks for for some
relatives.
It was impossible to prevent even the dignities of the Church from
being, to some extent, the prizes of families exercising political in-
fluence. There was indeed one Irish prelate, Bishop Whitehead,
whose severe impartiality and disinterestedness form the most extreme
contrast to the general tone of those who had patronage to bestow.
One of his sons, an admiral, writes on behalf of two of his brothers
who were in holy orders, saying that their &ther had refused to present
them to livings in his gift while there were older men, or men with
stronger personal claims, who were candidates for them. What the
personal merits or demerits of the sons may have been does not appear.
But their brother urges on the Lord-Lieutenant, as having some
claims of his own to attention, the propriety of doing something for
them, to make up what they have lost by the over-scrupulousness
of their father. But the answer they receive, though admitting the
hardness of their case, is to the effect that Union engagements stop
the way.
To one Irish prelate, we believe, the author does an injustice.
Archbishop Agar, who was successively created Baron, Viscount, and
Earl of Normanton, may in some of his public actions have been a
fair mark for criticism. But it is an error to make him responsible
for the unroofing the ancient Cathedral of Oashel. That was the
work of another holder of the See, Archbishop Price.
The Primate of All Ireland, Archbishop Stuart, a son of George the
Third's favourite Minister, in the early years of his reign, appears as a
vigorous opponent of any doubtful dealings with Church patronage.
It is difficult in some cases to make out the real merits of the issue
between him and the Glovemment. He does not hesitate to speak of
the bishops of his province as including three who were useless and two
more who were of bad character. In one instance, objecting to a
proposed nomination to a bishopric of one whom he thought too
young, he adds that, knowing nothing pf his character, he cannot
say that it is bad. As the clergyman referred to was altogether free
from any imputation on his character, we may gather that the Primate
was rather inclined to suspect some evil where he had no positive
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knowledge to the contrary. Another instance, however, led to a
more serious controversy. A divine who had had a general promise
of a bishopric was intended for the See of Eibnore, and the Primate
was informed of this intention. Then appears in the matter the name
of a well-known and powerful official, one who had already tried a fall
snccessfally with a Viceroy, the Right Hon. John Beresford. His son
already held the smaller See of Clonfert, and at his request it was
decided to promote the Bishop of Clonfert to Eilmore, giving Clonfert
to the person for whom the largir See of Eilmore had been destined.
Hereupon we find a vehement remonstrance from the Primate. He
speaks of Bishop Beresford as a man of the worst character in the
kingdom. He considers that his promotion will be a scandal which
will compel him to resign the Primacy. The Government vainly
argue that, as he had already been raised to the Episcopal Bench
without any protest being made, they could not have anticipated
any serious objection to his translation. The Primate gives his opinion
that the scandal of an unfit Bishop was far worse in a diocese where
the Protestants were numerous than in a part of the country mainly
Roman CSatholic. One would have imagined that an3rthing which could
be turned to the discredit of the Established Church would have been
still more serious in the midst of adherents of a hostile commimion,
who would not fail to make note of it for polemical purposes.
The matter was referred to Mr. Addington and to the Sang himself.
The promise pv&a to Mr. John Beresford was carried out and the
Primate did not resign. He appears, however, to have declined all
farther communications with the Executive.
It is difficult to form a decisive judgment on the materials we have,
as to the justification either for the Ihimate's attitude or the course
adhered to by the officials. The Chief Secretary, who was less con-
cerned with tiie matter than any of the others, speaks in his published
diary of the Primate's objection as unreasonable. The Primate
himself in one letter seems to admit a possibility that what was said
against Bishop Beresford might not be well founded, though he
considers the fact of its being widely believed made the scandal too
great to be passed by. But just weight is due to the sanction given
to the appointment by the Prime Minister and by the King.
If there was a matter on which George the Third was scrupulous
it was in appointments to high places in the Church. Mr. Addington
was described by Mr. Wilberforce, who knew him well, though on some
matters they did not agree, as having more sense of religion than
almost any of the public men of the day. It is unUkely that both
George the Third and Mr. Addington should have insisted on forcing
on a diocese a bishop of notoriously scandalous life.
The last part of this book is occupied with the attempted revival
of insurrection under Robert Emmet. The friendship of Moore and
the romance of his relations with Sarah Curran have attached an
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448 THE NINETEENTH CENTUB7 Sept.
iaterest to his name among many to whom his contemporaries are
to a large extent mere shadows. Bat he had little of the qualities
of a statesman or leader. It was not surprising that he should be a
zealous disciple of the Republican ideas of his &ther and elder brother.
He was, however, possessed with the notion that he could accomplish
in 1803 what his brother and his friends had utterly failed in a few
years before, and without that immediate suj^rt from France
which was actually secured by the insurgents of the west in 1798.
Thinking that danger had arisen from the participation of many in
the earUer stages of conspiracy, he wished to have but one or two
associates in the forming of depots of arms, and then to call on the
people, whom he believed ready to rise at a word. A contingent from
Eildare, joined by those who could answer the call in Dublin, were to
seize the Castle, while a confederate was to go to the north, and on
news of this stroke to issue a proclamation as from a Provisional
(Government, to announce that English rule was overthrown and that
all Irishmen who, after ten days, were still opposing the national
cause would be treated as rebels. He does not seem to have realised
that, even if by a fortunate accident Dublin Oastle could have been
surprised, he and his followers must have inevitably been crushed
the moment that regular troops, and especially artillery, were brought
up against them. As it was, the men from Ejldare, when they came
to Dublin, were dissatisfied alike with the leader and the arms, and
those who were at their head persuaded them to return.
In Dublin a certain number of men, including many from the most
lawless and disreputable quarters, were gathered together at his
appeal, but even Enmiet saw the hopelessness of attempting to carry
out his enterprise with a few hundred men. He proposed to them
to retire to the TVlcklow Mountains and hold out for the Irish Republic ;
apparently not considering that even a small force must have some
arrangement for commissariat, if it is not to live upon plunder.
In this, however, they would not follow him. He then left them.
He was hardly open to the reproach, which one person addressed
to him, of deserting those whom he had urged on, as a leader's functions
must end when those he commands refuse any longer to obey. But the
insurgents, now without control, became a disorderly and savage mob.
Lord Eilwarden, hearing something of the dangerous position of
Dublin, hastened to the Castle as to a post of duty. He was accom-
panied by his nephew and his daughter. Had the armed populace had
any regular leader they would probably have been made prisoners,
but their Uves respected, especially as in his judicial position Lord
Eilwarden had incurred no particular unpopularity. As it was, the
more ferocious element got the upper hand. The two men were
barbarously murdered. The yoimg lady was dismissed unharmed.
Mr. Macdonagh is, we believe, justified in saying that the rebel party
were altogether free from any acts of injury or insult to women. But
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it is the only element of a better kind in one of the most inexcusable
and sanguinary excesses which marked any part of the civil struggles
of the time. It may seem unaccountable why, knowing beforehand
the probability of disturbance, Lord Eilwarden should have brought
his daughter with him into the city. But he may have considered
that, if he once reached the Castle, it was a safer asylum than his
isolated residence outside Dublin. The insurrection, of course, was soon
at an end. Emmet escaped, and was for a while in hiding in the
country. He came back to be once more in the vicinity of Sarah
Corran, from whom he received letters unsigned indeed, but, as was
said by those who afterwards examined him, clearly containing high
treason. They at once showed the writer's knowledge of her cor-
respondent's aims and her own sympathies. Mr. Macdonagh remarks
that she hardly seems to have realised the seriousness of the matter.
She, however, had the prudence to urge that her letters should be
destroyed. This Emmet could not bring himself to do, and they were
found upon him when arrested. To prevent their being disclosed
he was willing to admit everything as to himself, but would mention
no other names, nor follow his brother's example in making general
statements as to the plans of the conspiracy. Ignorant if the identity
of the writer of the letters was discovered, he employed a turnkey,
whom he imagined he had gained over, to take a letter openly addressed
to Miss Curran at her father's house. This letter was carried to the
authorities, the unknown writer identified, and the whole matter
became public.
Mr. Macdonagh attributes Curran's extreme indignation, or at
least his expression of it, to his fear that his prospects of advancement
to the Bench would be int^ered with. It may be a question whether
Corran, a professed adherent of extreme opposition principles and
usually counsel for the accused in all poUtical prosecutions, was at
this time looking for the promotion at the hands of Government
which he afterwards obtained. But he was no doubt much irritated
at the idea of a clandestine engagement between his daughter and
Emmet at a moment the latter was plunging into a desperate adventure
likely to bring misfortune on himself and all who might be interested
in him. Emmet, no doubt, in his sanguine visions, fancied that in a
few days he would be the leader of a triumphant revolution and hold
a position that a father might rejoice that his daughter should share.
Curran, who was to have undertaken his defence, now regarded it
as a case in which he could not professionally act. Eventually Emmet's
counsel were Burrows and Leonard McNaUy.
The case for the Crown was conducted by Plunket, the Solicitor-
General. Mr. Macdonagh insinuates some inconsistency in the tone
which he now took, after his vehement opposition to the Union. But
it should be remembered that his formula had been * The sea protests
against Union, the ocean against Separation.' And, whatever heated
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450 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Sept.
expresflionB he may have used in debate during the height of the
stryggle, he never had any a3mipathy or connection with the democratic
revolutionists.
Burrows had also been an opponent of the Union, but seems after
that time to have ineffectually sought some preferment from Lord
Hardwicke. He also had made a curious communication to Mr.
Wickham, which met with little attention, of what had led him to
believe a serious conspiracy to be on foot, but without mentioning
the names of any who afterwards appeared in this attempt. Leonard
McNaUy, though it was not suspected in his lifetime, was known after
his death to have been for many years a paid agent of the Government.
Mr. Macdonagh talks of his black treachery in this case. But Mr.
Lecky, who always treats Leonard McNally with a sort of tenderness,
considered that he had never, when acting professionally, betrayed
a client. He had not seen the commimications with regard to Emmet
contained in this work. But, if carefully examined, they appear to
contain nothing which could have made any difference in his trial,
though they may have thrown light on matters which the authorities
might wish to know. Emmet, indeed, did not wish any serious defence
attempted. He did not deny his acts of treason, and there was nothing
to be said in their palliation that a tribunal would take notice oi
In his own speech, after conviction, he protested against the idea that
he wished to subject Lreland to France. If the French came not as
allies but as conquerors he would, he said, have advised his countrymen
to fight to the death against them. The sentiment, if sincere, as it
probably was, speaks more for his heart than for his head. For the
only conceivable chance for the separation of Ireland from England
would have been as one of those affiliated republics wholly under the
dictation of France and destined to ultimate absorption.
EEis sentence and execution were a matter of course, for he had
no claim on the mercy of the State. Yet, as in other cases, his death,
especially when it cut off a life which might seem only b^^inning, gave
him a hold on the imagination of the people which his actions might
never have under any circumstances secured. In the present day he
would probably have passed some years in a convict prison and
eventually been permitted to retire to America. He might then only
have been remembered as the hero of a fiasco, led away by a heated
fancy and an ill-balanced judgment.
Mr. Macdonagh's work may be recommended as containing a
mass of valuable information in an interesting form, while obtruding
as Uttle as possible the writer's personality. Most of those who have
written of these matters have done so as avowed and declamatory
partisans. Mr. Macdonagh, in the main, leaves his readers to form
their own judgments on the contents of the documents laid before
them and the history which they illustrate. It is only here and there
that any guess may be made as to the author's sjoupathies, and most
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parts of the book may leave us in doubt if he be Protestant or Roman
Catholic, Unionist at the present day, or Home Ruler. He is, we
believe, the author of other works in which his own opinions find fuller
expression. But anyone wishing to study for himself the records of
a time round which controversy has raged so hotly will probably
find in this work what is more to his purpose than so many whose
object is more directly to impose upon him the convictions already
formed by the writer.
Colchester.
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462 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Sept.
A FISCAL REFORMER OF CERVANTES'
TIME
When Cervantes lived in Seville no one was more notorious in that
city than Francisco Arias de Bobadilla, Count of Punoenrostro.
' Know, friend,' says a muleteer to his comrade, in one of Cervantes'
tales, ^that this Count of Punoenrostro has a demon in his body
that fixes the fingers of his fists in our souls. Seville and ten leagues
round it is cleared of roughs ; no thief stops in the neighbourhood.
All dread him like the fire, though 'tis said he will soon quit the post
of sheriff, because he is disgusted to find himself constantly thwarted
by the lords of the High Court.' *
It was not till recently that an historical windfall placed us in
possession of a detailed account of the administration of this municipal
Rhadamanthus. In 1873 a manuscript was discovered in Seville
which turned out to be a diary, undoubtedly authentic, of the leading
public events in the city between the years 1592 and 1604.* Of its
author we know little more than that his name was Francisco Arino,
that he lived in the suburb of Triana, and was apparently a citizen
of the middle class, probably a clerk in some Government office.
Though his grammar and orthography betray a want of education,
he amply atones for it by his natural faculty for graphic narrative
and his unique genius for sight-seeing. Wherever, according to his
favourite phrase, there was ' a thing to be seen ' — ^an auto da fe, a
bullfight, a religious procession, a riot, or a flood — ^Arino was there,
and all that he saw and heard was duly chronicled in the diary. The
result is a series of vivid and varied pictures of the life of Seville in
Cervantes' time. Once at least Arino met Cervantes himself. It
was in the cathedral, while he was gazing at the catafalque of Philip
the Second, that a * blustering poet' entered and recited a sonnet
composed for the occasion. Arino does not trouble to record his name,
but he preserves a version of the sonnet, which, garbled as it is, enables
us to identify in this 'blustering poet' the man who a few years
after was to give to the world the immortal Don Quixote.
' Novelas Exemplares—La ilustre Fregona, The muleteer is punning on the
name PuHoenrostro, which means literally * fist in the face.*
^ Sucesos de Sftn/Za— (Sociedad de Bibliofilos Andalnces). Sevilla : 1873.
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1905 A SPANISH FISCAL BEFOBMEE 458
Though the diary tells us little of Cervantes, it gives us a com-
plete and most interesting account of the magistrate whose severity
had so strongly impressed him. Punoenrostro, who was appointed
sherifE {asistente) of Seville in 1597, was indeed a remarkable man.
A soldier of distinction, he brought to the administration of justice
the severest military discipline and dauntless courage; but, what
was rare at that time, he combined with these qualities strict im-
partiahty and purity. In the two years in which he held office he
fully merited the muleteer's description of his severity by the suc-
cess^ manner in which he suppressed the brigandage and the plague
of sturdy beggars, both of which had become a scandal in Seville ;
but he was none the less notorious for his impartial condemnation
of alcalde and prelate when either had broken the law. Yet by far
the most interesting part of Punoenrostro's administration, and that
which alone concerns us at present, was his strenuous but hopeless
attempt to enforce a fiscal sjrstem which the progress of the world
had rendered economically impossible.
The Municipal Code of old Seville ^ affords a quaint and highly
charactenstio example of the grandmotherly principles on which
society was organised in Spain, and indeed throughout Europe, in
the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Of this code no part is more
minute in its details than the series of Ordinances which deal with
the sale of food. Many of these were aimed at excessive luxury ;
some limited the amount of food which any one huckster might sell or
any one customer buy ; others restricted the amount to be consumed
at a wedding feast, and even prescribed how many courses a citizen
might have at his dinner, according to his rank and position. But
quite as often the Ordinances had originated in the necessity of pre-
venting smuggling and protecting the monopoly of trade and the
revenues, both imperial and municipal, which were derived from the
taxation of food. The food supply of Seville was imported into
the town under the direction of the municipal authorities, who regu-
lated the amount according to their own notions of what the citizens
required. It was then distributed amongst certain licensed hucksters,
who retailed it to the people under strict laws and penalties. It was
illegal for any of these hucksters themselves to buy food outside the
city, or to sell it at their private houses, or anywhere except in the
squares and market-places. The food must be exposed openly for
sale, and not hidden, and it must be weighed in scales, and not sold
* by the eye.' If a huckster sold several kinds of flesh, they must be
kept separate, and a customer asking for one kind must not be put
off with another. To ensure strict observance of these laws, and to
carry out the severe penalties attaching to their breach, officers called
' overseers ' were appointed over the hucksters. Not only did the law
define the manner of selling provisions, but the overseers fixed the
* Las OrdinatiMos de SevillUt 1572 (printed bj Juan VareU of Salamanca).
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454 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Sept
prices, and any huckster selling beyond the legal tariff was subject to
the severest punishment.
Though the fixing of prices by the municipality had long been
conmion throughout Europe, the variations of supply and demand
had at all times made such a system difficult to enforce ; but by the
time Punoenrostro had become responsible for its administration a
new factor, constituting a new difficulty, had arisen. The precious
metals of the New World were pouring into Spain. Accommodation
could hardly be found in the Mint for the ingots of gold and silver
that were landed on the quajrs of Seville. The result was a rapid
and continuous rise in i»ices ; and, in spite of all the efforts of the
overseers to maintain low prices by law, the hucksters habitually sold
beyond the tariff. This state of matters puzzled and alarmed the
Spaniards of the sixteenth century ; and, ignorant of the true cause,
most of them attributed it to the lax administration of the law. Such,
at any rate, was the opinion of Punoenrostro, and he determined to
obtain reform by enforcing the law upon the luckless hucksters with the
same remorseless energy with which he had so effectually suppressed
the beggars and the brigands.
Convinced that the overseers were winking at breaches of the
Ordinances, he ordered the next offender to be brought before him.
When this had been done, he made the culprit swear, imder a threat
of two hundred stripes, how many times he had abeady been con-
victed ; and the man confessed to four convictions for selling beyond
the tariff price within the year. The Count thereon sent for the Book
of Ordinances and had them read aloud to show that the penalties
increased with each offence — ^fine and imprisonment for the first, a
public flogging for the second, and banishment for the third. ' Surely,
then,* exclaimed the Coimt, ' a man who has four times broken tiie
law deserves to be hanged.' On this occasion, however, he dismissed
the offender, but issued a proclamation that thenceforth the prices of
the tariff must be adhered to, and every one of the Ordinances, with
their penalties, rigidly enforced.
He had not long to wait for another case. A woman, called La
Ronquilla, was found selling kids which she had smuggled into the
city and kept hidden under a petticoat. She was paraded through
the streets and given two hundred stripes, ' and all the market people
began to be scandalised.'
They had soon fresh cause for scandal ; for, only two days later,
the wrath of the Count fell on a huckster who was a retainer of one of
the magistrates, and whom Arino deferentially refers to as ^Don
Francisco.' A gentleman, while walking through the market, was
attracted to Francisco's stall by what appeared to be the hindquarters of
a fat ram with certain of the inwards attached, which we regard as
offal, but which in Spain have always been considered a delicacy.
He bought a hindquarter and sent it home by his servant widi in-
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stmctions to have the inwards cooked and ready for breakfast. When
the gentleman returned, however, his majordomo had a strange tale
to telL The hindquarter, instead of being that of a ram, had been
cat ofi a tongh old ewe, and the inwards of a ram had been deftly
sewn on to the carcase with thread. The indignant gentleman
hastened to the Count with his mutton and his story, and next day a
constable arrested ' Don Francisco ' red-handed. He was taken to
prison, paraded through the streets with the meat hung round his
neck, given two hundred stripes, and banished from Seville. Soon
after, a woman who had sold cherries beyond the tariff was similarly
flogged through the streets with the cherries hung round her neck,
and died soon after the punishment.
The next case recorded by Arino shows the Count in a more genial
mood. A poor woman, whose husband was sick, had gone out to
sell four chickens for money to support him. A notary met her and
asked the price. She answered that sixty ma^a/vedis each was his
Lordship's tariff. But the notary snatched them from her, and gave
her only one hundred maravedis for the lot. While the poor woman
was weeping over her loss, the collector of aloabala (an imperial excise
tax of 10 per cent, on all food sold) came up and insisted on her paying
the tax on the full tariff price of the chickens. In her distress the
woman went to the Count, who at once summoned both the notary
and the tax-collector before him. * Why,' he asked the notary, ' do
you presume to eat your chickens at twenty-five maraivedis apiece,
while I have to eat mine at sixty I ' The notary had no defence to
offer, and was ordered to pay six ducats. Then came the tax-collector's
turn, and though his excuse was more specious he, too, had to pay
a fine of fifty reals. To these sums the Count himself added another
fifty reals ;^ and, after sending a constable round to the woman's
house to verify her story, he handed her the money for herself.
One morning, as Punoenrostro was passing through a small square
under the windows of the Cardinal's palace, a man hurried past him
with two eggs in his hand. This aroused the Count's suspicion. He
stopped the man and elicited that the eggs had just been bought
from a neighbouring pastrycook at six mairavedis over the tariff
price. Determined to administer summary justice, Punoenrostro
sent then and there to fetch both the executioner and the guilty
pastrycook. Just as the latter was about to be flogged, there ap-
peared at the window of the palace the Cardinal himself. He ex-
plained to the Count that the eggs were for him ; that his servant
could not find a fresh egg in all Seville, and had gladly paid an extra
price to secure those, and he begged that the pastrycook might be
spared. ^ To oblige his illustrious Lordship the Cardinal,' the Count
consented to forgo the stripes, and commuted the punishment to a
* In modem English money the value of a niaravedi was about a farthing ; of a
real, 64<2. ; wad of a ducat, Bs, 6d.
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456 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Sept.
fine of fifty ducats, to be given to the poor of the prison, and, after
receiving the profuse thanks of the Cardinal, passed onwards on his
way.
Punoenrostro did not relax his vigilance while walking in the
streets, and two days afterwards it led to another incident, which
presents us with so graphic a picture of the manners of those dajns
that it is worth quoting Arino's account of it :
It happened, as his Lordship was passing through the Plaza de San Fran-
cisco, there met him a steward carrying on a mule a great load covered with a
rug. His Lordship stopped him and asked what he carried. ' My Lord,' he
said, * a little meat.* The Count ordered the coverlet to be removed and there
he saw a quarter of beef, another of veal, four kids, rabbits, partridges, fowls
and pigeons. * To whom,* he asked, * dost thou carry all this ? * 'To my
master, the Alcalde Castillo,* answered the steward, * who to-day entertains
guests.' ' So be it ; if his Lordship the Alcalde entertains, this is no more than
he has a right to. God speed thee.' And he let him go. And on the stroke of
noon he went to the house of the Alcalde and, without waiting to be announced,
ascended the stairs, so that when the Alcalde would have come out to receive
him the Count was already with him at the door of the room. They saluted
each other fittingly, and, after having exchanged compliments, the Alcalde
begged that the Count might conunand in what he could serve him. Then the
Count answered that there waited a messenger for him at home whom he should
ere then have despatched, but as he could not now do this till afternoon he had
made free to enter the Alcalde's house to spend the siesta. * Had I known that
it would be my fortune to entertain your Lordship,' answered the Alcalde, * I
would have had something more choice for dinner,* and he called his butler and
bade him prepare a dinner, since his Lordship did them the honour of dining
with them. * Do not order more for me,' said the Count ; * surely there is already
too much, nor need your Grace dismiss me because there are too many guests,
for to you, who are entertaining twenty, one more or less can make no differ-
ence. Moreover, I will content myself with a chicken, and eat it standing at
the sideboard, for I am no lover of fine living.' * I beg,' said the Alcalde, ' that
you will cease to speak thus strangely, for surely I am ready to serve your
Lordship in anything.' 'Pray let me have frankness then, and not polite
evasions.' ' Of a truth,' answered the Alcalde, * I need no evasions, for I apd
all my house are at the service of your Lordship, and by the life of Dona
Fulana and my children I swear I have in my house none of the things you
speak of.' * If so,' said the Count, ' it is well ; but to-day I met a steward who
carried a load of beef and veal and game, and when I asked whose servant he
was, he said your Grace's, and that you entertained guests. So, instead of
sending him to prison, I came to your house to see for myself.' Then the
steward was sent for, and when he saw his Lordship he was much confused,
and confessed that some of his friends were about to hold a marriage feast, and
in order to get them beef and game ^ he had feigned it was for his master and
his guests. ' Your Grace,' said the Count, ' had better warn your servants that
this must not happen again, or by the King's life they shall pay the penalty ;
and now I bid adieu to your Grace, for they wait me at home.' The Alcalde
could hardly answer for shame, but so much did ho and his wife, and a tnax
who was there, entreat his Lordship, that he was persuaded to stay and dine.
Though the position of his master had saved this steward from
punishment, less fortunate was a Morisco, also the retainer of an
^ Bejonil the amount permitted at weddings by the Ordinances.
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1906 A SPANISH FISCAL BE FORMER 467
Alcalde, who was the next day detected selling cheese above the
tariff. For, though the Alcalde himself hastened to the prison and
tried to persnade the lieutenant of the guard to conceal the matter
from the Count, and though the Morisco offered to pay fifty ducats
to escape the flogging, the Count was both vigilant and obdurate,
and the Alcalde ' went home annoyed,' while the Morisco ^ was given
his deserts through the streets.'
The doings of Punoenrostro, and especially his campaign in favour
of the tariff, created no little stir in Seville. The fearlessness and
impartiality with which he administered the law, sparing neither
rich nor poor, were alone enough to commend him to the favour of
the ordinary citizen ; but when we further remember that the end
to which his policy was directed was to cheapen the food of the people,
we can well believe that with the people themselves the Count became
a hero. No popular hero in Spain, whether in those dajrs or in ours,
has ever lacked poets to celebrate his deeds in verse, or singers to
sing these verses in that peculiar quavering chant which the Moors
brought with them from the East, and have left behind, an undying
echo, in the fair land they conquered but lost. The streets of Seville
rang with songs in praise of Punoenrostro. Arino apparently thought
more highly of these than he did of the sonnet of Cervantes, for he
carefully preserves the names of their authors as well as the verses
themselves in the pages of his diary ; and, though it must be confessed
that they are the most sorry and vulgar doggerel, they are not without
interest as having served to interpret the popular sentiment of the
day in much the same way as the leaders of a newspaper do in modem
times.*^
While the townspeople were literally engaged in singing the
Count's praises, it may be imagined that the market folk did not
join in the song. It was Punoenrostro's fate, like every reformer, to
make enemies as well as friends. His enemies were not confined to
the market folk. Many of the hucksters were, as we have seen, re-
tainers of wealthy citizens, who apparently shared in their profits.
Moreover, the enforcing of a uniform tariff deprived wealth of one
of its advantages over poverty, as the Cardinal had found when he
sought to secure for himself the only fresh eggs in Seville. And so,
while one party was openly celebrating the Count's successes in song,
' The following translation may give a rough idea of some of these verses, and is
interesting for its alloBion to the panic created in Seville by Essex's invasion of
Cadiz:
* This Sheriff of oan,
By Ood*8 body I trow.
Makes aU keep the tariff-
The high and the low.
* He makes xu ail eqnal,
For poor though we be.
We eat juBt at oheap
Aa a judge or grandee.
Vol. LVUl— No. 343 H H
* So long may yon live.
Noble Count ! More afraid is
Our Seville of thee
Than of Essex is Cadiz.*
Thus did a poor gentleman
One Friday speak,
When he foand how much less
Was his bill for the week.
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468 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Sept.
another, smaller but more influential, was plotting how he could best
be thwarted and defeated.
The opportunity soon arrived. Maria de la 0, a seller of soap,
for refusing to sell her wares at tariff price and insulting a magistrate,
had, after some resistance, been arrested by order of the Ck>unt and
condemned to two hundred stripes. Maria, however, advised by
someone wiser and more influential than herself, appealed her case
to the High Court {Audienoia). This body was intended mainly as a
Court of Appeal, but the limits of its authority had never been
clearly defined, and there existed between it and the City Council
a jealousy which resulted in frequent and bitter strife. Accordingly,
on the morning of Saturday, the 28th of June, when Maria de la O
was about to be taken from prison and flogged through the town,
two constables from the High Court appeared^ ordered the culprit to
be put back in prison, the doors to be locked, and the keys sent to the
High Court. News of these events reached the Count during a
meeting of the City Council, and ^ he went off like a thunderbolt * to
the prison, followed by all the councillors and justices. But the
constables of the High Court, who had locked themselves inside,
refused to open the doors. Nothing daunted, Punoenroetro ordered
crowbars to be brought, and forced the prison.
Then the Count entered the prison and ordered the governors and the two
oonfitablee of the High Court to be put in fetters. And they took Maria de la O
and mounted her on an ass, stripped to the waist, and the procession was fol-
lowed by the Count and all the cotmcillors, marching three by three, and behind
Maria many constables, and when they oame to the Town-house the Count
ordered this decree to be cried through the streets : ' This is the punishment
which our Lord the King and the Count of Punoenrostro command to be
executed on this seller of soap. She shall be given 200 stripes, and whoever
does the like shall suffer the like.* His Lordship and the Council remained at
the Town -house, but Gregorio de Madrid, the Constable of Justice, and the
Executioner of the Rod, and four constables of the Coimcil, accompanied Maria
through the town, and there was no one in all Seville and Triana who didn't go
to see Maria de la O. There was much shouting and no one had any good to
say of her, but all thought the punishment was small compared to her deserts.
Then his Lordship posted a decree in the Plaza de San Francisco that no man
or woman should remain in the Plaza, or gather in groups, on penalty of 200
stripes. It was a sight to see the crowd scatter in fear, some here, some there ;
and scarcely had the decree been proclaimed when not a soul remained in the
Plaza. There were many opinions in the town. Some said the Count hckd done
well, others that he had done ill, for the High Court was above him. Some said
it would cost the Judges of the High Court much money, others that it would
cost much to the Count. With these things and others the town was in a
terrible stir, for, go whither one would, nought was spoken of but these doings ;
and all the verses Juan Begata had made were now become stale, and next day
— which was St. Peter's Day — there were sung new verses throughout the
town.
The High Court did not submit tamely to its authority being thus
flouted. All the city councillors who had authorised the forcing of
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1906 A SPANISH FISCAL BEFOBMEB 469
the priflOQ, as well as the officers who had carried out their orders,
and even the poets who had song Pufloenioetro's praises, were lyrested.
The Count himself was ccmdemned to a fine of five hundred ducats,
and when he refused to pay it the bailiffs carried away his tapestry.
He was also sununoned before the High Court to give his deposition,
but pleaded sickness and stayed at home.
Then, since the Count did not appear, some said he wm ill, others that he
had gone to Madrid, others that he had hidden from the High Court, others that
he had resigned his commission. And all the market people plucked up oouraRe
and declared that they didn*t care a fig for the Count, since the High Court would
take their part. And they sold as it pleased them.
Meanwhile, as invariably happened in the constant quarrels of
those rival authorities, advocates representing each had been sent to
Madrid, where * there was much parlejring over the pleas of the City
and the pleas of the High Court.' At last the royal decision came
that the High Court should ^ judge and not act,' and that it should
liberate the councillors and others who had been arrested. This
was regarded as a victory for the Count, and he again ' commenced
to scald the market people.'
While it is noticeable that after this encounter with the High
Court the Count was careful to submit his cases to that body for
revision, he abated nothing of the energy of his campaign against
illegal prices. Indeed, it is characteristic of him that he immediately
turned his attention to a family called Gkunarra, whose open defiance
of the tariff had hitherto escaped justice only from their notoriously
desperate character. How the old mother was arrested, how her sons
rescued her from prison, how they hid for days while all Seville
searched, how they were finally captured, the sons sent to the galleys
and the mother flogged through the town — all these things are
fully told in the pages of the diary. To us, who shudder at the barbarity
of flogging an old woman through the streets, it affords some comfort
to learn that, the morning after the Gamarra's punishment, the Count,
on passing through the market-place, found his victim in her usual
health behind her vegetable stall, surrounded by a jeering crowd, at
whom she was hurling filthy water and still filthier language (which
Arino, as usual, chronicles with conscientious minuteness). ^ It is a
pity,' said the Count, ' that such a woman was not banished as well as
With the pumshment of the Gkunarra the curtain falls on Punoen-
rostro and his doings. We know that for several months more he
continued in office, and doubtless persisted in his hopeless struggle
with economic principles and human natiire. But new events filled
the public attention and the pages of Arino's diary. Philip the
Second had died, and Philip the Third succeeded him ; and the
H B 2 .
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460 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Sept.
mourning for the one and lejoicing for the other afforded new themes
to the poets and fresh gossip to the people of Seyille.
But the reaotioa to which the muleteer in Cervantes' tale refers
had abeadj begun. The attempt to administer the law strictiy and
impartially in Seville was as short-lived as it was heroic. The depar-
ture of the Count from office was hailed with a sigh of relief. The
beggars once more returned to their begging, the brigands to their
robbing, and the market folk ' sold as it pleased them.'
J. W. Crombie.
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Google
1905
HAVE WE AN ARMY?
Those who during years of peace venture to mention the word * war,*
or to suggest the possibility that this country may ever again be
engaged in a serious war, vital to its national independence, are reviled
as panic-mongers and alarmists, or upbraided and censured as dan-
gerous firebrands. They are told not to mention the word ^ war * ;
that the very mention of it is dangerous, and likely to bring on that
which all peaceable citizens regard as an unmitigated evil, and many
good men look upon as an absolute crime. They are told not to rattle
their swords, and many other hush-a-by-baby devices are used to
silence them, by those who seem to think they can arrest a thunder-
storm or an earthquake by shutting their ^j^ and hiding their heads
under the bedclothes. To S^gur, I believe, is attributed the aphorism
that ^Peace is the dream of the wise, but war is the history of man-
kind.*
If the wise, however, forget that peace is the dream and war the
fact, their wisdom becomes but folly.
When nations grow rich and prosperous, and to a certain extent
luxurious, they naturally wish for a prolonged era of universal peace,
m order that tiiey may enjoy their prosperity and amuse themselves ;
forgetful that it is the warlike races which inherit the earth. The
idea that peace can be obtained by wishing for it, by singing its praises,
and by being unprepared for war, is one of those extraordinary delu-
sions which no amount of historical experience seems to be capable
of killing. Each generation in its turn appears to be firmly convinced
that it has been specially selected by Providence to inaugurate an
era of universal peace, when wars shall cease in all the earth ; and
each in its turn lives to realise that it is no^ the one so selected, but
that this honour has been reserved for a future generation, yet unborn ;
and those nations which found themselves unprepared for war, under
the assumption that there was not going to be any more war, have
Hved to repent in sackcloth and ashes that they had ignored the
teaching of history, while pursuing that ignis-fatuus^ the ' dream ' of
the wise.
No truer words were ever spoken, no wiser warning ever given to
a nation, than that contained in the well-known motto of our naval
461
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462 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Sept.
gunnery school — Si vis paccm para helium (If you wish for peace
prepare for ww).
But are we prepared for war, as a nation, as an Empire ? Do we
make the most of our potential strength % And is the manhood of the
country prepared and ready to come forward as the Japanese have
done, discarding all selfish and private interests, to fight for the
existence and independence of the nation 1
*0h,* says one of our hush-a-by-baby friends, 'don't make a
noise. Nobody threatens the Empire, and if he did, the navy is
strong enough to defend us. We pay our taxes, and that is enough.
Let us go on making money and enjojring it. We don't want to fight ;
we pay others to do that.'
Vain delusion. The navy can only keep open the communica-
tions of the Empire. The sea itself produces nothing but fish^ and
salt. The navy is not organised for fighting on shore, although it
does take a hand occasionally, when it gets a chance. But a great
Empire cannot be defended without an army; and it is scarcely
possible that we should survive another mutilation such as we suffered
130 years ago. The conditions are totally different, and there are
too many jealous rivals now waiting to take advantage of any difficulty
they may find us in, to make a grab for some of our much-envied
inheritance.
The vital question for the nation, and one which demands an
inunediate answer (for even our optimistic Prime Minister will not
guarantee us beyond the day after to-morrow), is whether we have
an army. That is to say, an army which can in any sense be measured
by the standard of the armies of the other great Powers. And further,
whether it is at all probable — or even possible — that we ever shall
have such an army under our present system of organising our potential
strength.
That experienced soldier Lord Roberts writes :
I am satisfied that unless some system of obligatory physical training and
instruction in rifle shooting be enforced in all schools and colleges, and amongst
the youth of the coantry generally, up to the age of eighteen years, we shall be
compelled to resort to conscription in some form or another. For in no other
way would it be possible for the very large reserve of men required in the
event of a serious war to be provided, so far trained as to warrant their taking
their places in the ranks against a civilised enemy, without what might prove
a fatal delay of months in preliminary drill and training in the use of the
rifle.
These are weighty words, spoken by a man who knows what he
is talking about. And then as a sequel to this we see Lord Roberts
going round hat in hand, as if for a charity, begging for a paltry
1(X),00(M. to start village rifle clubs, just to make a beginning. Implor-
ing his blind countrymen to * generously ' give an infinitesimal portion
of their vast wealth for the purpose of insuring the safety of the
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1906 HAVE WE AN AMMY ,f 468
remainder. And we have yet to see if they will respond to this appeal
to their ' generosity.'
Without being myself a soldier I believe my military friends when
they tell me that the infantry constitutes the backbone of armies ;
and although in the above remarks of Lord Boberts he is speaking
of * reserves/ it will no doubt be admitted that reserves imply some-
thing effective to start with.
Let us see then how we stand with regard to the British infantry
at present. I cull the following from the Times :
A military observer present at the station church, Colchester, last Sunday,
daring Church pariade, could not have failed to be impressed by a comparison
of the physique of the various imits attending the parade. The xudU comprised
Boyal Engineers, 16th Lanoers, Leicestershire and Dorset regiments, and a
regiment of London Yeomanry. The Engineers and Yeomanry were fine,
well-set-up men, the 16th Lancers a passable stamp of cavalry men, but the
British infantry were of no better age and physique than the senior company
in a school cadet corps. They were not men, and were not of the type and
condition that ever will grow into men.
And this correspondent proceeds :
The physique of the line battalions at the recent Aldershot review was the
only blot upon an otherwise excellent turn-out. It is doubtful if more than
50 per cent, of the line infantry present on LafCan's Plain could have endured
the parade if they had been in full marching order. Yet of what value would
an infantry man be in war against Continental troops if he could not stand
half a day with 60 lb. on his back ?
What indeed ?
The only blot ! And is it not a big enough one to frighten the
country into wiping it out without delay, and before it is too late ?
We seem to have already forgotten the lessons of the Boer war, and
the consequences of sending untrained men into the field, even against
straight-shooting farmers.
It is no use abusing the War Office for failing to provide the country
with an army. Not even Mr. Amold-Forster can make bricks without
straw, nor can he make an army without men. It has already been
proved up to the hilt that under our present system we cannot get
' men ' for the army ; only physical weaklings who are not strong
enough to take a job at anything else.
Nor is it any use abusing Parliament for taking no steps to provide
the Empire with an army capable of defending its possessions. Par-
liament is, and always will be, just what the country chooses to
make it.
Parliament will do nothing until it receives what it is pleased to
call a * mandate ' from the people. It is far too busy with its party
tactics for either party to take any step, or propose any law, which is
not likely to gain votes.
No ; the first step must be taken by the people themselves, when
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464 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Sepfc
they have realised the danger run by a great and rich unarmed nation
surrounded by jealous and iivell-anned rivals. A nation whioh appears
to have lost some, at least, of those warlike qualities which made it
great, rich, and prosperous, and enabled it to add to its own very
limited area vast possessions beyond the seas, many of which were
won by the sword, and will certainly have to be defended with the
sword.
It will perhaps be asked if I propose conscription. No. I do not
propose conscription. Certainly not conscription as the word is
understood on the Continent of Europe. But what I do propose is
the immediate adoption of the programme of the National Service
League, and that our national education laws should be so framed
that every able-bodied youth should be taught that which will enable
him to defend his country, as being of at least as much consequence
to the nation as teaching him reading, writing, and arithmetic.
The silly talk about not interfering with the sacred Uberty of
free-bom Englishmen is too ridiculous for anything but purely party
claptrap, when no better cry is available at the moment.
We interfere with the Uberty of the subject now, and force him to
receive education, whether he likes it or not ; and we make the well-
to-do pay for it, whether they like it or not.
Does it not seem absolutely illogical that we should entirely
n^lect the most important part of the education of the young males
of a free people, wishing to remain free ? That of teaching tiiem to
be ready to defend themselves and the women dependent upon them.
It can only be that the danger of such a state of a£Eairs is not
realised by the great body of the electors, those who make and immake
governments.
They will not believe men like Lord Roberts, and others, whose
only object is to make timely provision for the safety of the country,
and to avoid a terrible calamity from which it is impossible it could
recover. They will not believe their own eyes when they see children
in uniform masquerading as soldiers on Laffan's Plain for half a day
without their knapsacks. They say, 'Oh, our navy is invincible.
That is all we want. We don't want an army. We love peace, and
we are not going to prepare for war, for fear we might bring it on.
We are not going to have any form of compulsory service or training
in the use of dangerous weapons. We are a commercial people, and
militarism in any shape or form is an abomination unto us.* Indeed
there are some very good people who think it is wicked to teach the
hands of our young men to war and their fingers to fight.
Perhaps we are a commercial nation. But what says history
about the fate of all the great commercial nations which had gradu-
ally lost their warlike qualities, and were content to pay others to
fight for them, instead of being ready and prepared to fight with the
best manhood of the nation and the weapons of the day I They all
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1906 HAVE WE AN ABMYf 465
went down. And are we so vain as to imagine we can reveise all
history in our own special case and continue to enjoy our riches and
our vast possessions without being ready to fight for them ?
Rudyard Kipling's scathing sarcasm about ' the flannelled fool at
the wicket and the muddied oaf at the goal ' was considered by some
people to be too severe on our two great national amusements. Yet
we have quite lately seen in the Press a correspondence between
Lord Meath and the head-master of one of our great public schools,
whereby it ia clearly shown that cricket is considered to be of more
consequence than tiie annual review of the cadet corps. Teach the
youth of the country that their amusements are of more importance
than any duty they owe to the State, and they will not be likely to
forget it in after life.
Ajnongst the armaments of the Empire our volunteers are con-
sidered to be an asset of some military value to the nation, and it
may be granted that they are so ; but when people point to them as
an argument against any form of compulsory military training, it
appears to me that the argument is all the other way. Why in the
name of common sense because one young man in ten (and I know I
am well within the mark) has sufficient patriotism and sense of public
duty to give up some of his time to preparing himself to defend his
country, should the other nine be allowed to shirk this manifest duty,
hide behind the one as best they can, and say that they have not
time, and that it is not their business ?
Not their business !
WLose business is it then to defend their precious skins, and their
money bags, and the women and children belonging to them I
If the women of England could only be got to see and to realise
the absolute necessity which has now arisen for universal national
training, they would very soon teach the men their business ; and tiiey
can do it without being endowed with the franchise. They have a
franchise of their own which they can use very effectively. All that
is wanted is the will — the will to see that their sons prepare themselves
to play a man's part, without skulking or shirking, or any excuse
except mental or physical inability. Rich and poor alike. In fact,
the rich even more than the poor ; for there might be some reason
for letting ofi the only son of a widow, her sole support ; but there
must be no buying off. The son of the millionaire must be taught to
defend his country in his own proper person, just as much as the son
of the day labourer. No paid substitutes, on the score of ' haven't
got the time,' or 'want to make money,' or *want to play
cricket.'
As a matter of fact, I do not believe that there would be any very
extensive attempts at shirking if compulsory military training were
added as a sequel to our present education laws. The very disgrace,
the social obloquy (if the women chose to make it so) of trying to
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466 TtiS mN^THENTB CUNTtlM Sept.
shirk a man's duty would surely prevent it in ninety-nine cases out of
a hundred.
Our young men cannot be so very differently constituted from the
young men of other nations, who think it no disgrace, but rather an
honour, to prepare themselves to play a man's part.
What would happen to a young Jap who refused to go out and be
trained ? I think I know, for I have been in Japan. He would be
beaten out of the house by the women with their wooden dogs, and
would have a very bad time of it ; but really the situation is incon-
ceivable in Japan.
In conclusion, I should like to remind my readers of what took
place in England about fifty years ago, when the Great Exhibition
of 1851 was popularly supposed to have inaugurated a long, if not
perpetual, era of universal peace; whereas it was quickly followed
by « whole series of as bloody wars as have ever been recorded in the
pages of history, and that generation had to learn that they were
not the one selected by Providence to start the millennium.
This is what Einglake says about it in his introduction to The
Invoiion of the Crimea :
All England had been brought to the opinion that it was a wickedness to
incur war without necessity or justice ; but when the leading spirits of the
peace party had the happiness of beholding this result, they were far from
stopping short They went on to make li^t of the very principles by which
peace is best maintained, and although they were conscientious men, meaning
to say and do that which was right, yet, being unacquainted with the causes
which bring about the fall of empires, they deliberately inculcated that habit of
setting comfort against honour which historians call * corruption.' They made
it plain, as they imagined, that no war which was not engaged in for the actual
defence of the country could ever be right : but even then they took no rest, for
they went on and on, and still on, until their foremost thinkers reached the
conclusion that, in the event of an attack upon our shores, the invaders ought
to be received with such an efifusion of hospitality and brotherly love as oould
not fail to disarm them of their enmity, and convert the once dangerous
invader into the valued friend of the family.
And Kinglake goes on to say that the supporters of this doctrine
further segued that the invaders
would be so shamed by the kindness shown to their troops that they would
never rest until they had paid us a large pecuniary indemnity for any losses or
inconveniences which the invasion may have caused. . . . But the doctrine
struck no root ; it was ill-suited to the race to whom it was addressed. The
msm cheered it and forgot it until there came a time for testing it, and then
discarded it ; and the woman from the very first, with her true and simple
instinct, was quick to understand its value. She would subscribe — if her
husband wished it — to have the doctrine taught to charity children, but she
would not suffer it to be taught to her own boy.
Perhaps the women of England may think it worth while to bjing
once more into operation their ' true and simple instinct,' and while
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1906 HAVE WE AN ARMY? 467
bearing well in mind the truth of that motto which I have already
quoted — Si vis pacem para belium — they will impress upon their sons
the necessity for a wider extension of the appUcation of the famous
signal made by Nelson to his sailors a hundred years ago ; and teach
them that England expects every man to do his duty, and that it is
dishonourable and immanly to shirk that duty.
C. C. Penrose FitzGerald {Admiral),
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468 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Sept.
CORNEWALL'S MONUMENT IN
WESTMINSTER ABBEY
One tomb alone my ravish'd view excites ;
And fires my rage, and as it fires delights . . .
O Comewall I at thy name my bosom fires,
Thy name to ev'ry Briton ever dear,
Immortal vengeance *gainst thy foes inspires.
Thy fate at once I envy and revere I
Who would not die like thee in glory's prime !
And die applauded by the mouths of endless time I
Westminater Abbey, W. Bidbb, 1755.
There is so mucli said and written at the present moment about this
monument in Westminster Abbey, that some of us may be tempted
to seek it out as we wander there, the living among the dead« It
stands just within the west door, and is partly formed of red-veined
Sicilian marble — a heavy pyramidical structure, designed and erected
by Sir Robert Taylor. It displays a large standing figure of Britannia,
in the character of Pallas, attended by her lion, and another of Fame
under a palm-tree and laurel. The figures are poised on rocks adorned
with anchors, flags, and cannon, and these surround an admirable
bas-relief of a naval engagement. Above is a coat of arms — a Uon
rampant in a bordure bezanty — ^and a medallion representing the
head of a man crowned with laurel. But if we look to the inscription
below to learn his lineage and valiant deeds, we may be doomed to
disappointment, for all that is written is in Latin, and it is not
given to everyone to have leisure nowadays to master a dead
language.
Those of us who are of a heraldic turn of mind will recognise the
coat of arms as that of the family of Comewall, and the hero com-
memorated here is James Comewall, son of Henry Comewall, of
Bradwardine Castle and Moccas, co. Hereford. This Henry Come-
wall, strangely enough, lies in the Abbey instead of with his forebears
in Herefordshire ; he was buried in the south aisle in 1716, having
been Colonel of the 9th Regiment of Foot, and Master of the Horse
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1906 C0BNEWALU8 MONUMENT 469
to the Princess of Orange. James was his third son by Susanna,
daughter of Sir John Williams; he was bom in 1698, and in due
course foUowed the family tradition of entering Parliament, and was
elected member for Weobley. According, too, to family tradition, he
must enter either navy or army — or even both I For the services
were less distinct then than now, and his elder cousin, Wolfran
Comewall, a distinguished naval captain, had been rewarded by
William the Third for his revolutionary zeal by a troop in the
Blues.
The presiding genius of the Navy was well awake to her interest
when she enrolled James Comewall as her son. For in him lay fire
and inspiration, and a spirit of self-sacrifice and devotion to duty
that was almost unknown to the half-hearted fleet of the day.
Hawke and Anson seized this spirit, and exemplified it through their
glorious Uves, but Comewall taught it also through his glorious
death.
He must have entered the service about the time of the treaty of
Utrecht, when a long period of peace ensued under Walpole. But
before the outbreak of the Spanish war, proclaimed in 1739, naval
preparations had been made on a considerable scale. Colomb
writes:
Two Bquadrons with designs of territorial attack were ordered to be got
ready^ the one under Captain Anson and the other under Captain Comewall.
The original intention was that Anson's squadron was to proceed round the
Gape of Good Hope, while Comewall's was to pass round Cape Horn. Come-
wall was then to attack the Pacific side of the Isthmus of Darien, while Admiral
Vernon was to attack the eastern side. Afterwards Anson's and Comewall's
squadrons were to rendezvous at the Philippines for operations there. Ulti-
mately the idea of Comewall's squadron was laid aside, and Anson took his
place, prosecuting his celebrated voyage.
In 1743 the affairs of Maria Theresa absorbed the whole of Europe,
and much was expected from the English fleet in the Mediterranean
under the command of Admiral Matthews; it consisted of twenty-
eight ships of the line, ten frigates, and two fire-ships, all moored in
the Bay of Hydres. The fleets of the joint enemy, France and Spain,
mustered twenty-eight sail of the hne and six frigates, and were
ignominiously blocked in the harbour of Toulon. The French and
Spanish courts, no longer able to bear such disgrace, sent positive
orders for them to proceed to sea, and, as Campbell says :
On the 8th of February they were perceived to be under sail, the French
admiral, de Court, having hoisted his flag on board the Terrible, Admiral
Matthews inmiediately made a signal for unmooring, and the British fleet got
under way on the 9th. During this and the following day these two fleets
continued manoeuvring in sight of each other, apparently endeavouring to gain
the advantage of situation. ... On the 11th, at break of day, the two fleets
were at a greater distance Hwx on the preceding days and Admiral Matthews,
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470 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Bepfc.
had the morfeifiofttion to find Admiral Lestock's diviaoti considembly astera.
He now imagined that de Court's intention was to draw him towards the
Straits, in expectation of a reinforcement from Brest. He therefore deter-
mined to engage the enemy as soon as possible, notwithstanding the irregularity
of his line, his van and rear being at too great a distance from the centre.
Accordingly, at half -past eleyen, Admiral Matthews made the dgnal to engage^
which signal Lestook did not repeat. Indeed he was, at thia.time, so far aatem
that he had no enemy to engage.
It is needless for us to dwell on the disagreement between the two
admirals, but the feeling of JIfatthews' partisans is shown by the
skit that greeted Lestock's return to England :
On Cornbwall and L .
Spare the fond Sigh ! Let Britons' tears be shed
For Dastards living, not for Heroes dead.
Matthews and Rowley gallantly led the attack^ and Hawke
followed, but few — very few — of the other captains. Comewall,
however, supported his commander as long as life lasted. In his
Marlbarottgh of ninety gims he bore down upon the Spanish admiral
in the Real, a first-rate of 114 guns. She was disabled and finally
burnt ; but not until she and her two seconds had raked the Marl-
borough fore and aft for many hours with deadly chain shot, and had
deprived Comewall of both legs at once. Absolutely regardless of
his agony he remained on the quarter-deck and fought his ship till he
died, exhibiting, as Smollett says, ^ remarkable proof of courage and
intrepidity.' He was killed by the fall of a mast, which in his helpless
condition it was impossible to evade. He was in his forty-sixth
year.
Nightfall ended the action, one of the most miserable the EngHsh
ever fought; and when they had leisure to lament their wasted
opportunity of dealing a vital blow to the naval power of both France
and Spain, then too they had leisure to lament the loss of a hero
deeply loved and respected. A brother-officer called him ' the idol of
the navy,' and the OendemarCa Magazine had lines, panegyric but
pedantic, after the fashion of the day :
To THB HONOUB OF CaPTAIN CoRNBWALI., OF THE * MaRLBOBOUOH.*
Tho' to no name the partial Victory rose
When fought brave Matthews, and when fled the foes :
Tet, Comewall, stands that day a lasting Date,
Stamp*d by thy Deed, and founded on thy Fate . . .
Thither thou cam*st at Honour's sacred Call,
Thou oam*8t at once to conquer and to fall,
To die a victim to the British name.
To die the Hero*s Death and live to fame.
Above the rest, brave Comewall, shines thy Part,
^Strikes every ^ye, and ^\j}j^ pn every Heart.
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1906 CORNE WALL'S MONUMENT 471
And, again, a more tenderly worded poem, as from one who knew
him personally :
On the Dbath of GAPr^m Gobnbwall, Comuandbb of the * Marlborough.'
Hifi Kfe was honest, candid, fair and wise,
Humane tho' brave, — and good without disgnise I
In death lamented, as beIov*d by all
Who knew his virtues or beheld his fall.
These outbursts of enthusiasm for Comewall were no conventional
praise of the dead. To grasp how real they were, and how much
Comewall's heroic conduct meant to the disgraced service and the
exasperated country, we have but to recall what followed the action.
Out of twenty-six captains engaged, twelve, besides the two admirals,
were tried by court martial. Of these, three were acquitted, one died, one
fled from justice, two were dismissed their ships, and no fewer than five
were cashiered, Matthews himself sharing the same fate. If ever a great
example was needed it was then, and even in the action it had been felt.
A cousin of Captain Comewall's, Frederick Comewall, of Diddle-
bury (father of the Bishop of Worcester), was first-lieutenant on board
the MarJbarough when the hero died. He took the command, losing
his arm during the action, and subsequently Matthews announced
bis intention to give him the command of a frigate. But he remarked
that * he had fought the Marlborough after his relation's death as she
ought to be fought, and that he thought he ought to be promoted to
the command of her.' His wish was fulfilled ; and eighteen years
later he was given the command of the CorntuaU, which a contem-
porary in 1761 described as ' a fine new ship of seventy-four gims,
launched at Deptford, and named the Cornwall in honour of that
brave commander who was killed last war in the Mediterranean.
The stem is the figure of a hero with his sword drawn.'
If we are not misinformed, this is a unique case of a ship of the
line being named after a post-captain — ^a unique honour, in fact. The
alight discrepancy in the spelling of the name is immaterial, as the
family documents use either form, and it still continues, as a new
Cornwall was launched a few years ago.
All honour to the navy who thus never forgets her sons ! All
honour, too, to the ParliMnent that unanimously voted the monu-
ment to his memory in Westminster Abbey. The following lines,
from the GefndeTnarCa Magazine of September 1744, suggest that the
nation was looking for some such recognition of its favourite's merit :
If Greece and Borne, for fame of old renown*d,
With deathless palms the happy Victor crown'd,
Or when the hero far his country bled,
With lasting statues grao'd his honour'd shade,
What mark shall show Britannia's fond regret,
Lamented Comewall 1 for thy mournful fate ?
What honours shall she pay, what statues raise ?
Or must the poet only give thee praise ?
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472 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Sept.
Praise, indeed, was forthcoming, for the epitaph, anglicised,
describes him as one who
Deriving a tmly heroic loul
From the ancient family of the Plantagenets,
Became a most able and expert sea-commander,
Honoured with the united tears and applauses of a British people.
For, while he was defending his country's cause
In that naval engagement near Toulon,
A chain shot having cut off both his thighs.
He fell unconquered.
Bequeathing in his last agonies to his fellow-soldiers
His native military ardour.
The monmnent is noteworthy as being the first ever voted in
commemoration of naval heroism, and no doubt Nelson had it in
mind when foretelling 'a Peerage or Westminster Abbey.' Our
modem taste may prefer a more simple style of sculpture ; but we
must remember the country gave the best it knew, and gave, too,
from love and gratitude. A poem published in Poetical Essays, in
1756, is worth preserving for its appreciation of Comewall's patriotism.
It represents his spirit as visiting the monument erected to his memory,
and rousing his countrymen to fresh endeavour ; and as we lay our
Uttle tribute of laurel at his shrine, we, too, are proud to be British,
and to share in his patriotism.
G0BMEWALL*8 GhOST.
Lowth's Pral Acad,
From scones of bliss — Elysian fields,
Where Drake and Raleigh rove —
The ghost of Comewall took his flight
And sought the realms above.
In that £Eun'd place where heroes sleep
And saints and sages lie,
He saw the marble columns rise,
And thus expressed his joy :
* Such honours patriot kings erect,
And senates have decreed,
For those who bravely meet their fate,
And for their country bleed.
* When Britain calls, and virtue fires.
There's ecstasy in death ; ^
Who would not bleed in every vein,
And die at every breath ?
* Who'd wish an ignominious life.
And, for a moment's pain,
Give country, conscience, honour up,
And still that life sustain ?
* * Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.*
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1906 C0BNEWALU8 MONUMENT 478
* The alanghter'd ghosts at Fontenoy
Mourn that inglorious day ;
When English honour droop'd her head,
To France and Spain a prey.
* But soft I I hear war*s loud alarm,
And the hrave sailors* cries ;
Once more I see the flag display'd,
And Britain's genius rise.
' Now, noW| intrepid sons of war,
Begain the honour lost ;
Now dart your thunder to the foe —
Bevenge my slaughter'd ghost.
* Britons, strike home I Comewall commands
To fame, to conquest fly.*
' Brave ghost,' the navy all replied.
We'll conquer, or we'U die I '
Isabel J. Cornwall.
^^ LVin-No. 343 1 1
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474 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Sept.
THE ROYAL COMMISSION
ON ECCLESIASTICAL DISCIPLINE
It may seem premature, if not impertinent, to write of the Royal
Commission on Ecclesiastical Discipline when the members have
not yet met to consider their Report. He must be an unusually
reoldess controversiahst who will criticise a document which is not
in existence. By the end of the year, probably, we shall know what
the long labour of the Commissioners has really brought forth. We
shall be in possession of their views on the extent and character of
the evils into which they were directed to inquire, and on the remedies
which in their judgment should, or may, be apphed to them. Then
will be the proper time for such an article as the present. Let us
know what the Commissioners recommend before you ask us either
to praise or to blame them for recommending it.
If I proposed to deal in any way with the possible contents of the
Report I should be justly open to this censure. But I have no such
intention. The observations I am permitted to offer will have very
Uttle to do with anything that the Conmiissioners may say or leave
unsaid. I shall concern mjrself wholly with the situation which
has led to the appointment of the Commission. As I read that situa-
tion it does not admit of either judicial or legislative treatment —
imless, indeed, those with whom the appUcation of that treatment
would rest are prepared for graver risks than I think they will
care to incur. It will not be surprising if some at least of the Com-
missioners are found to have already arrived at a conclusion closely
resembUng this, and even those who have not yet reached this point
will probably do so when they come to analyse the various proposals
which they have had made to them or have themselves put forward.
I doubt whether there is a single Commissioner who has not by
this time a far stronger sense of the obstacles which stand in the
way of any action whatever than he had at the first meeting. Possibly
to bring first thej Commissioners and then the pubUc at large to
this state of mind was one of Mr. Balfour's objects in consenting to
the inquiry. The House of Commons is curiously subject to fits
of Ecclesiastical panic, and though it is now some seven years since
the last acute attack, Mr. Balfour is not hkely to have forgotten the
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1905 ECCLESIASTICAL DISCIPLINE 476
alann it gave him or the inconvenient pledges which that alarm
drew from him. The necessity of waiting for the Report could
always be pleaded while the Commission was sitting, and at the time
of its appointment the Prime Minister can hardly have expected to
be in office when its work was done. Till then, at all events, Lancashire
would remain quiet. Party leaders are too much disposed to pro-
pitiate their tails by expedients of this kind. They do not, I think,
take enough account of the support which a little display of inde-
pendence will sometimes bring to their side. In the present instance,
moreover, the appointment of a Royal Commission was less distasteful
than it generally is to the advocates of immediate action. They
could go on piling up evidence of the need of drastic legislation in the
hope that their case would be all the stronger for the delay. As
things have turned out, indeed, it seems quite possible that Mr.
Balfour will still be in office when the Report is presented. But the
Commission will none the less have served its original purpose. The
Cabinet must have ample time to consider the proposals submitted
to them, and that time is not Ukely to be found in the closing months
or weeks of a Parliament awaiting dissolution.
Nor is the Report Ukely to come in for any more attention at the
hands of the next Cabinet. In dealing with Ecclesiastical questions
a Liberal Qovemment labours under a disadvantage from which
Conservative Governments are free. The Liberal Party is perma-
nently divided on the question whether the Established Church
ought to be mended or ended. Probably the majority of Liberals
dislike Ritualism, and are of opinion that, so long as the Church is
established, they have a right to express that dislike in legislation.
But to legislate for the Church is to give fresh recognition to its position
as an Establishment, and this is what a large section of the party
are not disposed to do. Consequently to attempt such legislation
would be to introduce a fresh occasion of division into the Liberal
camp, and this on a matter which exdtes a great deal of feeling. I do
not see what gain a Minister could possibly expect from such a poUcy,
especially as a good number of Ritualists are Liberals in politics, and
to single them out for hostile legislation would be to quarrel with
the one section of Churdmien in which the party can count upon
finding friends. On the whole, therefore, we may put aside the notion
that a Liberal Qovemment will make the Report of the Ccmmiission
the foundation of a Bill. The time when the larger question of Dis-
establishment will be seriously approached may be near or distant,
but I doubt whether any Libend stateemui will care to identify
himself in the interval with the reform of the Established Church,
when to do so is to identify himself with its maintenance. The
contingency of the return of the present Government to power after
the Dissohition is too remote to need consideration here.
It may be objected that I have been denying what no one has
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476 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Sept.
ever asserted. It is not necessary, it maj be said, that Ecclesiastical
legislation should formally be taken in hand bj one or other political
party. On the contrary, it is much to be desired that such legisla-
tion should not be the exclusive work of either Conservatives or
Liberals. A Bill to restore discipline in the Church of England need
not be — ^indeed, ought not to be— a Government measure. Uinisters
must be friendly to it, of course, or the time wanted for its discussion
cannot be secured. But they need only be friendly in the sense that
they are ready to stand aside and allow Churchmen on both sides of the
House to introduce certain indispensable reforms in the management of
an institution in which they are keenly interested. The course which
a measure of this kind would naturally follow would be something like
this : The Archbishops would submit certain proposals to the Bishops
in private conference. If the Bishops were greatly divided in opinion
nothing more would be heard of them. But supposing that something
like a unanimous acceptance of them could be obtained, they would
be laid before the two Convocations either at once or after a pre-
liminary discussion of them in the new Representative Council.
In the event of the proposals passing this ordeal without material
change, or of the Bishops accepting the changes made in them, the
Archbishop of Canterbury would undertake the preparation of a Bill
and its presentation in the House of Lords. If it survived the Second
Reading debate and the subsequent consideration in Committee,
it would go down to the Commons in the hope that it would meet
with as friendly a reception as was accorded to the Scottish Churches
Bill last Session — ^the contention of the promoters being that even
an Established Church ought to be at liberty to make improvements
desired by all parties and involving no question of principle. If
this modest claim were admitted, a useful reform might be effected
without delay and almost without criticism. Statutory effect would
thus be given to such of the recommendations of the Royal Com-
mission as had met with general acceptance, and peace and unity
would be restored to the Church of England.
It may seem ungracious to disturb the pleasing vision which
these words will have called up in some minds. But I have never
heard that it is safer for Churchmen to live in a fooPs paradise
than it is for other people, and I propose for this reason to carry
the inquiry a little further. I am very far from saying that the
legislative future I have described is incapable of realisation. But
I do say that in order to its realisation two conditions are indis-
pensable. The provisions of a Bill to enforce Ecclesiastical discipline
must be recommended by a united Church to a friendly Parliament.
Before we can determine what is Ukely to follow upon the Report
of the Royal Commission we must ascertain how far these two condi-
tions are likely to be satisfied.
I do not think that the Report, and still more the evidence, can
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1906 ECCLESIASTICAL DISCIPLINE 477
fail to cause a good deal of excitement. Wliatever estimate the Com-
missioners may form of the variations of ceremonial they have been
investigating — ^whether they regard them as not inconsistent with
substantial unity of beUef , and for this reason unimportant, or see
in them evidence of differences of doctrine greater than can be allowed
to exist side by side in the same Church, and so making an urgent
demand on the attention of FarUament — they will certainly not say
that the variations in question do not exist. Hitherto, the pubUc have
hardly known what to beUeve on this point. They have read accounts
of ^ extreme ' services in the newspapers, but for the most part these
accounts have been famished by men who are wholly ignorant of ritual,
and are therefore almost certain, however honest they may be in
intention, to give a wrong description of what they see. In almost
every case, therefore, the clergy concerned have been able to say
that the account as it stands is inaccurate, and the pubUc, finding
that all they have read is not true, have been left in doubt how
far any of it is true. When the evidence taken by the Commission is
published, this uncertainty will be at an end. The facts will all be
known, because they will all have been sifted. We shall learn what
has been denied and what admitted, and we shall know what in the
opinion of the Commission is the net result. It is quite possible
that this enUghtening process may — ^unless it coincides with some-
thing equally interesting in secular affairs — ^have a very startling
effect. A great many people will realise for the first time that the
Anglican Communion Service admits of being rendered, and in a
large number of churches is actually rendered, in a way which, to
careless or unskilled observers, seems indistinguishable from the
Roman Mass. They will probably read that this fact has been brought
home to the Commission to an extent which even the Episcopal
members had not reahsed in advance. And they will be tritmiphantly
reminded by the various Protestant organisations that, if they had
<mly been listened to, all this might have been suppressed years ago.
I cannot doubt that this revelation, coming as it will upon a pubUc
which for some time past has put these matters on one side, will
generate a strong desire to do something. If Mr. Balfour were in
office, and had time at his disposal, it would probably lead to some
attempt on the part of the Government to devise an impossible com-
promise. With a Liberal Qovemment in power it is more likely to
lead to the introduction by a private member of some variant of the
liverpool Bill. If the Commissioners should have reported in this
sense, it will be a measure founded more or less on their recommen-
dations. If they should have said, in effect, that there is really
nothing to be done, the fact will be held to show that the field is
open to reformers of a more vigorous type.
We have first, then, to inquire what are the chances in favour of
such a moderate and generally acceptable measure as I have imagined
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478 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Sept.
being introduced by CSitiiclimen of all parties. We saw that two
things would be wanted to ensure its success — a united Church aad
a friendly ParUament. That the first of these conditions is absent
is shown by the very appointment of tiie Commission. Were there a
general agreement among Churchmen that BituaUsm and RitoakatB
ought to be put down, the good sense of all parties in the Church would,
before tMs^ have disoorered a way out of tiie difficulty. It might not
have been possible to root out the mischief, but at any rate it would
not have gone on growing. A few clergymen might stiU have
worn unusual vestments, and lighted unnecessary candles> but they
would have been r^^arded as harmless eccen^cs — ^a cause of annoy-
ance, no doubt, in their own parishes, but of no importance to the
Church at lai^. Or — supposing them to outstep the limits of
contemptuous tderance — ^the law would have been put in force and
tiiese exceptional parishes brought back to the wholesome level of
their n^hbours. Instead of this happy state of things, we see in
the existMice of the Royal Commission a confession that the good
sense and good feeling of Churdimen have i^ke proved unequal to
ike task wUch has devdved on them. They have not got the C9iiut^
of England out of the dilemma in which the gradual development
of a particular tjrpe of doctrine and ceremonial has placed her. In
otiier words, the CSiurch is not united either in behef or in practice.
This fact is often disguised in one of two ways. Sometimes it is
regarded as true but unimportant. There are varieties of opiimm,
no doubt, in the Church of England, but they do not relate to easMitials.
Upon slik fundamental points Churchmen think and act alike ; where
they pM^ con^any is in the modes in which they express this nnder-
lyix^ agreement. In ike misleading phrase of the day they belong
to different * schools of thought.' I call this a misleading {dirase
becauseit divorces the term from its natural and prop^ use, and re-
marries it to a use mik wUeh it has nothing in conmion. Thefe always
have been, and there aiways will be, diffnent ways of eonoeiving and
presenting the same truths, and in iqpeaking of these the tetm ^ sdioob
of thought ' is ^te in place. But it is altogether ini^propxiste when
appUed to the presentation of contradictions. The conttoveniea
as to 4he miodeof Cfadsf s presence in the Encharistie Efemeiits,x>r as
to the: precise pbce oi private confession in the Guistian iifie, are
examples of its coneot application. The controveisies as to the
fact of CSuist'a presence in the Encharistic Elements, or as to the
necessity of ocmfession to a priest in certain circumstances, are examples
of its misuse. As regards these last, all sectimu of Chmohmen do not
tfamk alike^ and so the unity which ought to under&e the difisrenoe
between sehools of thought is wanting.
The other way in which the extent of the present. difihr^ioes is
sometimes> concealed is by the inv^tion of an tmagimiry party^^the
''BiatQdc 'Hig^^CburehFarty/ There is no real qtazzd>' we are tald»
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1906 ECCLESIASTICAL DISCIPLINE 479
between High Chuidimen and Low CSuuchmen. Bath have, and have
had ever aince the Reformation, their rightful plaoe in the Church of
England. At first sight this view seems to make for toleration. If
botht paitieB have their rightful place, tiiere can be no need for one
to di^nrb the otiier. But in that case what is tiie meaning of the
Cionmnfision ! It is only inteUigible on the assumption that High
Gknrchmen are doing things which must be stopped, even at
the eost of getting rid of those who do them. The answer
given is, that the offenders have no title to the name by which
they call themselves. They do not belong to the 'Historic High
.Chnrdi Party.' They are outsiders who have no proper place in
the Clhurch of England. The characteristic of this ' HiBtono High
CSinrch Party ' is that it Uves in a movable past. To-day it associates
iteelf with Pusey and Keble. When Pusey and Eeble were i^ve it
associated itself with Norris of Hackney and Joshua Watson. In
their generation it had to retreat farther still — say to Waterland.
Indeed, had they but thought of it, I have Uttle doubt that the Puritans
of liaud's day would have justified their opposition to his changes by
an appeal to the ' Historic High Church Party ' of the first years of
Elizabeth. As has been well said, this is the modem fashion of build-
ing the sepulchres of the prophets. Unfortunately for this theory,
parties are what they. are, not what they were a generation ago.
I do not mean, of course, that there are not wide differences of
opinion and conviction among High Churchmen themselves — difier-
jenoes that might go far to break up the party if it were not for the
wholescmie pressure exercised on them by their opponents. But
nnder the influence of that pressure they do manage, and I hope
ahrsys will manage, to make conmion cause whenever any of them
are attacked. This is the meaning of the lamentations we some-
tinies hear over the unwiiliiigness of * moderate ' High Churchmen
to dissociate themselves from * extreme' High Cbuschmen. The
* Boodearate ' High Churchmen have hitherto had the wisdom to see
that to allow their ^ extreme ' brethren to be harried out o£ the Church
of England would betomi^themsdves the objects of the next attack.
They vonld in torn be summoned to go back to an earlier type of
*hiiGdx>zic' High Ghnrohmanahip, and be turned out as extremists
il they refused.
In this position of parties in the Church the evolution of a Bill
to restore Eeclesiastical Discipline would meet with obstacles at every
point. On Ihe possible difficulty of bringing even the two Arch-
bishops into perfect. agreement I will not speculate. But Againning
.this to be surmounted, there would certainly be a divergence of opinion
among the Bishops on the merits of the scheme proposed to them.
They might be very ; unequally divided, hut they would be
^dmded.- Ihe scheme would not go down, to the Lower Houses
eL Convocation^beanng the imprimatur of a unanimous Episcopate*
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480 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Sept.
Even if it did bear that imprimaiur its acceptance by those Housea
would be far from being assured. The proceedings of Gonvocation
are a striking example of the advantages of free deliberation. No
one knowing only the composition of the Lower Houses would expect
to meet with the independence which they constantly show. The
official element is very strong in them ; the representation of the bene-
ficed clergy is very inadequate ; the unbeneficed clergy are not repre-
sented at all. But the submission to Episcopal direction which such
materials as these might be thought to promise is seldom or never
found. The Lower Houses of Gonvocation have minds of their own,
and are not slow to give them expression. It is conceivable, no doubt,
that they would give a Disciplinary Bill exceptional treatment. But
short of this astonishing departure from their customary methods,
I should expect to see the Archiepiscopal proposals subjected to so
much alteration and to so piany^ postponements that they would
either be withdrawn by their authors, or be taken out of th^ hands
by some impatient layman and submitted to Fariiament with an
ostentatious absence of Ecclesiastical sanction. Even if tiie Lower
Houses of Convocation should in this instance show an tmprecedented
amount of deference to the Episcopate, this advantage would be
secured at the cost of an appreciable weakening of j their claim to
represent the Church of England. The High Church clergy are not
likely to court their own extinction. And if they deny, as in Hub
case they certainly would deny, that their real wishes were expressed
in the votes of their proctors, there is no means of arriving at the tratii.
The Convocations cannot be dissolved, and any member of Parliament
introducing a Bill to give effect to their proposals would do so in
complete uncertainty how much clerical opposition he would have to
reckon on.
Supposing, however, that all these speculations come to nothing —
that the Bishops give a united support to the Archbishops, that the
clergy in their Convocations accept the Episcopal proposals without
any serious amendment, and that High Churchmen generally feel it
useless to offer any opposition to their being presented to Parliament
as the demand of a united Church — ^what reception is the measure
founded on them likely to meet with in tiie House of Conmions ?
A Bill to restore Ecclesiastical Discipline must take one of
two forms. It must either strengthen the authority of the Bishops
in their forum domeHicum; or it must make procedure in the
Ecclesiastical Courts more rapid and certain. There have been
examples of both forms in quite recent years. On paper, and to
anyone who is unacquainted with tiie peouUar circumstances and
recent history of the Church of England, the former plan will seem
just what is wanted. Here, it will be said, is an Episcopal Church
in which discipline has gone to pieces. As regards the conduct of the
services, at all events, every man does that which is right in his own
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1906 ECCLESIASTICAL DISCIPLINE 481
eyes. His Bishop commands, and he obeys or disobeys at his pleasure.
Obviously the right course is to strengthen the authority to which the
cleargy profess, but do not yield, obedience. All that ParUament
has to do is to give this authority more effective means of enforcing
conformity to its directions. At present a Bishop's directions go
for nothing. If he wishes to enforce them he must go to the Eccle-
siastical Courts. Arm him with more stringent powers, enact that
disobedience to his monitions, confirmed in case of appeal by the
Archbishop of the, province, shall entail inmiediate suspension
followed by deprivation after a short interval, and order and reason-
able uniformity will at once be restored. Unfortunately for the
success of this plan, there is hardly a section of the House of
Commons to which it would not be distasteful. The Protestant
Party, who have lately been taking a more active part in electioneering
business, would oppose the Bill at every stage. In their opinion the
mistaken lenity of the Bishops has been the main cause of tiie present
trouble, and to make them judges in their own cause would be tanta-
mount to leaving the evil unremedied. To a large proportion of both
Houses the Bill would seem a surrender of the main principle on which
the Established Church rests. It would take the decision of Ecclesias-
tical causes in the last resort out of the hands of lay judges, and so
give the name and privil^es of an Establishment to what would
in &ct be a voluntary Church. I doubt whether ^ther Lords or
Commons would be at all disposed to do this. The High Church
Party are not strongly represented in ParUament, but, so far as they
have any weight there, it would be used against a measure which
would make each Bishop the sole interpreter of a written constitution
by which he and his clergy have till now been aUke bound, and, except
in case of appeals, provide no means of harmonising the possibly
conflicting opinions of some thirty judges equally authoritative and,
it may be, equally incompetent.
A Bill opposed on so many different grounds could hardly have
other than a short shrift. Would one formed on the Liverpool model
have any better prospects ? In the first instance, I think, it might.
For the latest proposals associated with the name of Mr. Austin
Taylor a very plausible case can be made out. They make no alteration
in the law ; they only make the procedure by which the law is enforced
more certain and more expeditious. The Judicial Committee, it is
acgued, has already laid down what the law is in regard to many
of the points in dispute, and it is ready to do the same service in the
case of any which are still undecided. The faults in ike present
IHX)cedure are two— one, that the Bishop has the power, and in most
cases the will, to veto proceedings at the outset ; the other, that if
by any chance he omits to do this the only immediate remedy for
persistent disobedience is imprisonment for contempt. Do away
with the Episcopal veto and make deprivation foUow close upon the
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482 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Sept.
sentence, and all will be well. Most of the piaotices by which the
Bitaalist clergy have changed the face of the Church of England axe
eondenmed already ; the remainder would doubtiess be condemned
so soon as a court could be got together and a case tried. Within
a very short time, therefore, tiie offending clergy would have to make
their choice between obedience and tiie loss of their benefices. Either
way tiie law would be vindicated, and the suffering parishioneis
reUeved from a kind of service which offends both their tastes and
their consciences.
From the point of view of the authors of the Liverpool Bill, there
is much force in this argument. For they, if I understand their
position, are prepared to face the consequences of tiieir policy. They
wish the Church to remain established. But they only wish tiiis if they
can make it what, as tiiey believe, it was intended to be,^ and what at all
events they wish it to be. They are not in tiie least frightened by the
warning that tiie legislation they contemj^te would probably lead
to disestablishment. Better that, they reply, than an Establishment
in which Ritualists have their own way. But the question is not
approached, always and by everybody, in this heroic temper. I believe
that a great number of those who dislike Ritualism and wish to see its
development checked do so because they are afraid that if it is not
isiheoked it will make the Established Church, ui^pular and so lead
to its dethronement. There are others who, though their dislike
to Ritualism rests on wider grounds than this, are yet of opinion
that its suppression would not be worth purchasing at the cost of dis*
.establishment and of the financial and administrative rfianges which
disestablishment would bring with it. It is with tiiese twa dassea that
settlanent of the question will lie, because it is only by their aid that
the Protestant Party can look to gain their object. Before Mr. Austin
Taylor can carry his Bill he must show that it is cakujated to bniig
the present controversy to an end, not to carry it into a new and
larger field.
When, therefore, I am asked whether Rituali;^ are to go on defying
law and public opinion and take no harm by so doing, I answer by
another question : What M the law is not sa clear, nor public opinion
so evidently hostile, as is often supposed % The condemfialion el the
ceremonial practices now in dispute rests on a single judgment of
the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council. This great Court does
not refuse to reconsider its judgments on good reason shosnu . It
is at least possible, therefore, that in a naw^seiies of tnals it nsi{^
adopt an interpretation of the Ornaments Rubric different from iiiat
whiob it followed a generation ago. Rituslists wee not so set oil
breaking the law that they will do so even when it makes in tbeic
favcHir, nor will tiiey reject the decision of a secular court if it leaves
them free to follow their own wishes. Consequently it ifr^at lea^
possible, that th& sole outcome of a Session wasted, in^ Soolnsiasticsl
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1905 ECCLESIASTICAL DISCIPLINE 483
ntiHe and a aeries of freftk suits might be ike eventual clearance of t^e
Bito&liBtB from the charge of disobedience to the law. I cannot
but think that, when the cooler heads in the House of Commons
come to weigh this result against the cost incurred in obtaining it,
th^ may see reason to doubt the policy of passing any very drastic
measure. Let vm suppose, however, that these doubts as to the real
meaning of tiie law relating to ceremonial have no existence outside
tiie imaginations of a few enthusiastic Ritualists, and will be promptly
broshed aside by those cooler heads of whom I have been speaking.
Thore axe two reasons, :they may say, why the attempt to put down
Bitoalism has hithCTto fadled. One is that l^e Bishop has retained his
veto ; theother is that in the rare instances in which a suit has been
allowed togoontheprosecutiimhas had to choose between leaving the
evilnndiecked for three yeaxs and putting t^e sentenced clerk in prison.
The new Bill will cure both these faults. It will abolish the Episcopal
veto and mnke deprivation follow closely upon conviction. By this
latt^ change the public conscience will be completely reUeved. When a
wrong-headed but hard-woridng clergyman is sent to prison because
he wfll not put out a candle or give up wearing a particular vestment,
it is at once felt that the punishment is greater than the ofEence.
But wlwn he merdy snfiers deprivation the common-sense of Churchmen
may be trasted to see that he is only reaping the consequences of his
own 8^-will. He has broken the contract by which he holds his
bene&Qe« If he likes to set up a nonconformist chapel, he may bum
as many candles and wear coats of as many colours as conscience
tit &ney may dictate. It is only when he is of&ciating in a building
bdonging to the. Established Church that he is compelled to abide
by the oooditions which the Established Church prescribes. Thus
the two. kinds of ptmidbment will have quite different efiEects. Im-
.{ffibcmmtat ezeiles 8]rmpathy ; deprivation will excite none.
33ufl is very plausiUe reasoning, and ii it covered the whole ground
it might poflsbly be acquiesced in by a great number of Churchmen.
ffiiit depctvation would have ooosequences which might not be so
Munfy accepted. Before the Act had been long in fcxoe the number
«f deprived 'iacombeats wodd be considerable. The authors of the
Act joi^ 1k^, indeed, that after a few test cases had been decided
ia their ^vour— and, as they would hold, it would be impossible to
ffeeideAemotherwiae — the great majority of the offending okrgy would
Bubmit« A very 'few might accept deprivation, but ^ temaiDder
wonlddevise some method of leconciling obedience and duty. This
■wminption dees not seem to me to be justified by the coarse ot the
Bitudiit^iBOffement. No doubt the High Church clergy have often
madb lazgsiemoesrioDa.in the matter of ceremonial. But they have
nadft.'tham ciiheir tiwn free will. An incumbent has yielded to the
•omaeh oi fhifrHahqi or to Ijie wishes of his congregation, but he Jias
alffici*iaU«]rii4fBi0^fla-with.an:expre8s reservation that.he>does not
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484 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Sept
recognise the authority of the courts bj which the ceremonial in question
has been pronounced illegal. When the test cases under the new Act
are followed bj deprivation, this question of the courts will become
of primary importance. The incumbent has been invested wiik
the cure of souk by the Bishop, and deprivation by or at the instance
of a State court cannot take this *away from him. Anyone who
succeeds him will in the eyes of High Churchmen be an unlicensed
intruder. In every case, therefore, there will be two claimants to
the spiritual charge of the parish, though only one to the temporalities.
There is no need to dwell on l^e confusion arising out of such a position
as this. In one diocese the Bishop may refuse to institute the intruder,
in another he may inhibit the deprived incumbent. I do not deny,
of course, that the law will be quite able to assert itsell The new-
comer will be the legal parish priest, and if his Bishop refuses to recognise
him, so much the worse for the Bishop. So the lawyers argued in
Scotland in 1843, and tiie materials for a schism are present in more
than equal abundance in England to^y. I do not think so 01 of the
High C3iurch clergy or of High Church congregations as to doubt tiiat
when the time comes they will take pattern by the heroic founders of
the Free Church.
I have no expectation, however, that things will ever reach this
pass. Long before then we shaU have the question of Disestablish-
ment upon us in good earnest. It has not been much in evidence
of late owing to the wave of Conservatism that has passed over
the country. But when tiie LiberalB come back to office it is
possible that, under any circumstances, it may come to the front
once more. It will at all events have the rec(»nmendation of being
a question on which the party is more united than on some others.
The confusion in the Church which I have been describing would
supply the exact atmosphere in which disestablishment would flourish.
No matter which party is in power, there will be many members of the
House of Commons who have no special hostility to the Established
Church and would regard a Session spent on a Disestablishment Bill
as so much time wasted. But if Parliament is to have its attention
diverted from things of social and economic importance by the
intrusion of Ecclesiastical controversies, these same men may easily
come to think that time will be saved in the end by giving up one
whole Session to getting rid of them for good and aXL This is one
reinforcement which a new Public Worship Regulation Bill would
bring to the side of disestablishment. Another is the large con-
tingent that would be yielded by High Churchmen themselves.
Hitherto they have, for the most part, been opposed to disestablish-
ment. They have looked upon it as a desperate expedient only to be
resorted to if every other means of protecting themselves against
State interference ^ould fail. The le^slation of which I have been
speaking would show them that the crisis they thought so remote had
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1906 ECCLESIASTICAL DISCIPLINE 485
leaOj come. They wotild have to choose between bestirring themselves
to pnt^an end to a state of things which had become wholly mischievous
and seeing the Chmch of England assimilated, in some of its essential
features, to other Protestant bodies. In this way two of the forces
which have hitherto been found on the side of the Establishment would
be numbered among its assailants.
These are some of the reasons which lead me to think that, whatever
the reccNnmendalions of the Royal Commission on Ecclesiastical
Discipline may turn out to be, nothing except disestablishment can
come of an attempt to carry them out. The Established Church,
like some old buildings, may last a long time if it is let alone.
What it has most to fear is the hand of the well-intentioned friend —
the friend who is impatient of the anomalies and contradictions
which have grown out of its history, and can tolerate nothing that
does not square with his own conception of what a Church ought to be.
, D. C. Lathbury.
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486 TEE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Sept.
CHRISTIANITY AS A NATURAL RELIGION
Orthodox Protestants, no less than orthodox Catholics, insist that
the Christian religion differs from all others, first and foremost in
the fact that it has been revealed supematorally to man, whilst the
others are his perverse inventions, or, at best, his erroneous guesses.
When, however, we come to consider more in detail the way in which
revelation is respectively understood by each of them, the ideas of
the two with regard to it are apparently in direct antagonism. The
Protestant idea expresses itself in the familiar assumption that Chris-
tianity is pure in exact proportion as it is primitive. That is to say,
according to the Protestant theory, the whole of modem Protestantism
was expressly set forth in the Bible, especially in l^e words of Christ
and the writers of the apostolic epistles. The Roman theory, on the
face of it, is the precise reverse of this. As Newman has diown, in
his elucidation of the doctrine of development, the contents of revela-
tion, according to the Roman theory, did not consist at first of explicit
propositions only. They comprised in addition to these a consider-
ably larger element of propositions at first unrecognised, which the
explicit propositions impUed, and which have very gradually revealed
themselves to the intellect and experience of the Church.
For those who regard Christianity in any of its existing forms
as a body of truths miraculously revealed to man, the Roman theory
is incomparably more logical than the Protestant; but the former
really differs from the latter in degree only, not in kind. The primaiy
assumption is in both cases the same. This is the assumption that
the whole content of revealed religion had, when the last of the
canonical books was written, been placed in man's keeping as a gift
from another world — ^as a crate of spiritual imports, which only
required to be unpacked, though the Romanists r^ard the unpacking
as hardly finished yet; whilst Protestants assume that it was the
rapid and simple work of a generation. It is only because Romanists
and Protestants i^ree as to this point that they i^ree in regarding
Christianity as a religion specially revealed by Qod, and not, like
Buddhism, a religion built up by man.
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1905 CHBISTIANITT AS A NATURAL BELIGION 487
SqcII) at all evente, is the oonc6pti<»i of what a revealed religion
means, which has prevailed hitherto not alone amongst those who
accept the revelation as a reality, but amongst those, also, who reject
it. What I shall attempt to point out here is that both believers
and unbelievers are wrong, and that they are respectively defending
and attacking the supernatural character of Christianity without
having duly realised what, if a revelation has been given, the character
and effects of it, as related to man, must be. The truth is, as it will
be very easy to show, that even if a religion should be really a body
of truths expressly communicated to men by some supernatural
means, it must, in so far as men accept, assimilate, and are affected
by it, present itself under the aspect of a religion which is wholly
natural.
Let us imagine a race of savages, requiring food as we do, but never
having eaten, or known what food was. A stranger arrives amongst
them who, finding them weak and miserable, tells them that food is
what they want, and explains to them by means of a few practical
demonstrations how animal and vegetable food may be caught,
picked, and grown. If the savages had not, however, been so con-
stituted as to make food a necessity — if they were not acquainted
with the pangs of hunger, and had not been possessed of aj^petites,
teeth, digestions, the stranger's instructions would have been no
better than gibberish. As a niatter of fact, a mere hint is enough.
The ffl-Tiniabing men at once &11 to and feed themselves, and gradually,
by a natural process, develop the arts of agriculture. With a super-
natural religious revelation, if we assume such to be a fact, the case
is precisely similar. It can only affect man in proportion as his
nature assimilates it, and his nature can only assimilate it in pn>-
portion as the facts revealed are verified and discovered afresh by his
own natural faculties, and translated and developed into those various
applications which his changing circumstances demand, and to which
Us intellect guides him.
Let us take a few simple examples. The main points witii which
the Christian revelation is concerned are the love of Qod, and sin —
its natote and remedy ; but unless man had possessed, prio(r to and
apart from revelation, certain wants and tendencies which the Grod
of revelation satisfied, and a sense of moral distress of which the
Chnstian doctrines of sin provided an explanation recognised by
himself as true, and also a cure for it experienced by himself as efifec-
toal, these revealed doctrines, though. thundered from twenty Sinais,
woold have had for man no meaning whatever. The blessings attached
by Christ to meekness, purity, love of enemies, and so forth, would
have been to his hearers imintelligible if they had not been already
endowed with certain natural tendencies in virtue of which they
lecognised Christ's teaching as true, and accepted the more intimate
parts of it, not on His authority, but on their own. Nor does this
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488 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Sept.
apply to the ethics of revelation only. It applies equally to those
historical propositions— those statements as to external fact — ^which
constitute the dogmas of Christianity, as distinguished from its moral
teaching. Such, for example, are the doctrines of the virgin birth
and the resurrection. Why has the Christian world accepted these
alleged events as not only true, but so incomparably certain and
important that for centuries it roasted those who presumed to cast
a doubt upon them t It cannot have been merely on account of
the historical evidences in their favour. It has been because the
events which the historical evidences attest have been felt to possess
an inherent and antecedent probability, due to the bet that the
moral teaching of Christ has appealed to human nature in a way so
deep and exceptional as to generate the conviction that He was a
Being of a superior order, and could not have been bom and have
died after the manner of common mortals.
This aspect of the matter was more or less concealed, prior to the
rise of modem historical criticism, by tiie prevalent acceptance of
the Qospels as inspired in every word, they being thus regarded as
evidence sufficient in themselves. But now even the most orthodox
scholars are being driven to admit plainly that the Gk)spel evidence
for events such as those which are here in question would faul to
command assent if the personal character of Christ, as recognised by
man's moral consciousness, did not make them antecedently probable,
and, indeed, morally necessary. Let us, says the Bishop of Bir-
mingham, begin by filling our minds with tiie sense of Christ's unique
personal character, and all the miracles of His Person will at once
be rendered credible ; and tiie same argument is being urged on every
side, with growing emphasis, by modem apologists generally.
Now, with the exception of one important point, this argument
is profoundly true ; but it carries us a great deal farther than the
apologists who are using it suspect ; for, in proportion as it is made
evident that, a character such as Christ's being given, there is a
natural tendency in man to associate it with certain miracles, not only
does the probability assert itself that such miracles have actually
happened, but the rival probability increases in strength, also, that
they are merely the natural products of a pious and expectant imagina-
tion. But in addition to this criticism there is still another to be
made. The argument, as I said just now, ignores a certain point,
which is this — ^that the natural tendency of man to expect an element
of miracle in a life of supreme holiness is illustrated not by the Chris-
tian religion only, but by all the other great religions as well. It is
doubtiess easy, with regard to minute details, to make too much
of the likeness between the Christian miracles and the others. But
their general likeness is undeniable by anyone who takes the trouble
to compare them. It is enough here to refer to the miracle of a virgia
birth, which was ascribed to Qautama and to Zoroaster, just as it
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1906 CHBISTIANITY AS A NATUBAL BELIOION 48t
has been to Christ, and the marveUons incidents of the fast and temptir
tion of the f onner, which might have been copied from the Goc^els
had the stoiy not been earUer.
I am not here arguing, from notorious facts such as these, tiiat
Christ's miracnlons history was not more real than Qantama's. I
refer to them merely as showing that the former, however tme, and
however truly attested by supernatural evidence, are accepted and
felt to be significant by the Christian world, only because the alleged
supernatural evidence is corroborated and repeated by man's natural
judgment, just as our imaginary men, who knew nothing of food or
eating, and would never have Imown anything if it had not been for
extraneous instruction, became able, when once instructed, to find
food and eat it, only by using thenceforward their own natural facul-
ties, which the extraneous instruction did no more than Uberate.
In other words, the utmost that a supernatural revelation, which
has any bearing on man's practical life, can conceivably do, is ts
open his eyes to facts which, his eyes once being opened, he can see
and verify for himself as being in accordance with his inborn spiritual
perceptions, and which by his natural reason he reduces to a reason-
able system. Thus, even if it be true that a given reUgion is super-
natural, in the sense that its doctrinal propositions and the moral
teaching connected with them were originally enunciated to mam
by an intelligence external to his own, this religion thenceforward is
no less truly a natural one, in the sense that it can become a practical
sdieme of life only in so far as it is accepted and interpreted by man's
own nature. Christianity, therefore, as regarded under one of its
aspects, must necessarily present itself, even to the most orthodox
Christians, as a purely natural rehgion competing with many others,
and not genericaUy distinguishable, so far as its origins are concerned,
from the religions of Zoroaster, of Gautama, of the Neo-Flatonists.
or of Mahomet, to which every element of the supernatural is, by
Christians, indignantly denied.
* n
Now if the facts of the case, as thus stated, be true, we shall find
that they imply others of a kind which at first may startle us. They
imply that dl those moral perceptions and dispositions, and aU those
acceptances of alleged miraculous fact, which the orthodox are accus-
tomed to look upon as peculiar to their own religion, are merely
varieties of moral emotions and of beliefs which existed amongsb
men as men before, or without connection with their existence amongst
men as Christians^ Christianity being merely a putting together in
one way of materials which other religions put together in others^
and the various results in all cases being the product of cognate
faculties. That such should have been the case will to many people
Vol. LVin— No. 843 K K
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490 THE NINETEENTH OENTUBY , Sept.
seem incredible ; bnt the more comprehenfitv^lj and seaichingly man?^
spiritual history is stndied the more rapidly do the proofs and iltostra^
tions of the fact in question multiply.
The significance of these proofs and illustrations being, of neces-
sity, cumulative, and dependent on their being arranged in their
proper historical order, the ordinary reader will be much hdped in
appreciating it by an interesting work publidied not many months
ago, the main ol^ect of which was to marshal facts rather than to
interpret them: I refer to Professor Dill^ History of Roman Society
from Nero to Moroua Awelius. Professor Dill aims at daboratiag no
theory of his own with regard to Christianity or any other religion,
Christianity itself, indeed, lying practically outside his province ; but
he has, as part of his picture of the pagan life of Rome, brought
together firom various quarters a great number of facts illustratiiig
the religious conditaon of the non-Christian worid ; and these facts,
though many at them are familiar enough individually, assume a
meaning, when thus seen in their proper connection, which will to*
the ordinary reader be probably new and startling. They will exhibit
to him' the indtependent growth of what we may call a non-6hristian
Christianity, side by eide with the development of the Christian
Cfhurcih, as though aH the civilised worid were moving in the same
direction, and trying in di'Serent languages to embody the same
thou^ts.
Apart from ihe CSlristian' belief in Jesus as a divine Redeemer,
ihe Christian religion* is regarded as difEering from and opposed to
paganism mainly in its doctrine of one almighty and all-holy Qod,^
and the elevation, the charity, the purity, and the inwardnesa ol its
moral system. Professor DUl^s book will show the most t^ardess
reader that the non-(%ristian world, in spite of its popular pcdytbemi
and its many notorious elements of moral depravity and barbarian,
was developing, contemporaneously with the early growth of the
Church, a moral sjrstem, and also a theological creed, similar to those
which Christianity has looked on as its own monopob'es.
With regard to a belief in a single supreme God, this had been-
reached in the polytheistic world, by the earliest Greek thinkers,
centuries before the Christian era. It was devdoped by Plato^ and
animated the thou^t of Aristotle. God, however, as these thinka»
conceived of Him, was an intellectual rather than a moral Power,
whose essstenoe explained the universe without affecting conduct.
But, Professor Dill points out, a great variety of causes political and
social, no less than intellectual, had already, before CSiristian pro-
pagandism began, combined to represent this Power to the higher
consciousness of' paganism as a mixral friend and ruler, instead of a
mere cosmic cause ; and by the time that CSiristianify was first preached
in Rome this moral monotiieism was in a stage of rapid developmexnt.
The break-up of the (M corporate civic life had, as Professor Dill says,
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1906 CHBI8TIANITT AS A NATURAL RELIGION 491
asd as others have said before him, thrown men back on the problem
of tbe indiTidnal soul. The union of all civilised nations under the
role of Rome had developed the idea of the universal brotherhood of
mankind. ^What have he and I to do/ said Seneca, ^with any
siB^ state, who realise our citizenship in the great commonwealth
of humanity? ' And together x with this idea of universal humanity
was developed tiie idea of-a moral and paternal Grod Who had universal
homanity for His care.
The spread of these ideas was no doubt very gradual, and, as was
the case with the CSiristian ideas also, distinct records of them are
confined to the writings of exceptional men; but the exceptional
meii were quite sufficiently numerous, and the public they addressed
was quite sufficiently large, to show that they were representative of
a general movement. Christian monotheism was at first preached
mainly to the poor ; pagan monotheism was at first preached mainly
to the rich. The Ohristian promised redemption from the misery of
life ; the pagan mionothdst promised redemption from its vanity ;
but in eadi case ike ^int at work was simSar, The pagan mono-
tfaeist was bq;iiming to discern in Gk>d, as the Ohristian did, the Father
of human souls, the object of the soul's desire, and its guide on tiiat
upward path which ends in divine communion. 'This life,' said
Seneca, ' is the prelude of the life which is to come.' In the life to
come the ' beatitude of virtue ' ia our portion ; and even now we can
see that divine vision from afar whenev^ the soul frees itself from the
toifa of sensual pleasure. The upward struggle may be hard, but the
stmgg^ is not left helpless. The Gtod, from whom nothing is hidden
(' deo nihil dausum '), gives His grace to the human sout— a ^ pars
divini spiritus ' — ^His Spirit bearing witness with man's spirit to the
eternal goodness of what is good ; and ' thrice miserable art thou,'
says Seneca, 'if tins heavenly witness is despised by thee.' To his
kinsman Anmeus, who was often prompted to turn from active social
life to a life of [Moeophic meditation, ' retirement,' he says, ' wiU benefit
you little unless jrou live and think in Gtod's presence.' So live as
though Gk)d always saw thee. ' Sic vive tanquam Deus videat.' A
hoty Spirit has its dwelling amongst ourselves. 'Sacer inter nos
spiritus sedet.' *What,' says Epiotetus, 'shall I, an old man, do
but sing praises to Ood, and bid all men join my song ? ' Zoroaster
long ago had preached the 'divine kingdom.' Marcus Aurelius, in
almost the same words, brings before us his vision of ' the dear city
of Zeus.' 'When we are below,' said Plutarch, 'and encumbered
with our bodily afiEeotions, we can have no direct intercourse with
Ood, save by j^osophic meditation, and, even so, we can but faintly
touch Him. But when our souk have been released, and have passed
. into the region of the invisible, Gk>d will be the Ouide and King of all
those tiiat have trusted in Him, and then shall they behold that
beauty of widck no mortid lips can speak.' 'That beauty,' says
KX 2
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492 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Sept.
Mazunus of Tyre, ' which eye has not seen in its fulness, and of which
no tongue may tell, may yet gleam for moments on tiiose who break
through the veil of fledi ; but thou shalt see it in its fulness only
when God calls thee to Him/
But this paraUeliam between Christian and pagan developmeat
was by no means confined to the region of mystical or speculatiTe
theology. In the region of morals and moral emotion it is even
closer and more remarkable. The morals of Christianity are populariy
supposed by Christians to have differed from those of heathenism
mainly in the foUowing wajrs : In having for their end and sanction
the love and the will of a morally responsive Qod; in identifying
Qod's service with the love of all other men, even those wha hate
and injure us; in the renunciation of self and of all mere worldly
goods ; in a constant struggle with the appetites which war against
and quench the spirit ; and in the habit of pra3rer by means of wfaidi
a life thus lived is kept in constant communion with, derives coo*
stant help from, and is offered as a constant oblation to, tiie love
which is at the heart of aU things. Such is the rule of life whidi has
been looked on as the Christian's monopoly— the ^new command-
ments ' given by a supernatural voice to the followers of Christ, and
to the followers of Christ alone.
With regard to God, as the moral end of existence, it wiU have
been seen already that the pagan world of Rome had arrived for
itself at a conception of the Supreme Being which was, in its general
features, hardly distinguishable from the Christian. Let us consider
the practical morality by which this Being was to be served. For
Seneca, no less than for Christ and Paul, the love of God translates
itself into the love of man. All men, says Seneca, are God's diildren,
and as such we should love them all. H thou wouldst find tidne own
life, it is needful that thou shouldst live for others. ^ Alteri vivas
oportet, si via tibi vivere.' He has no life in himself who Uvea for
himself only. *Non sibi vivit, qui nemini.' Are other men evil-
doers ? Are they depraved ! Are they ungrateful ! Do they treat
us spitefully? We shall remember, if we are wise, that in tiiem,
too, there are elements of goodness, and we shall look on them as a
physician looks on those who are sick. We shall remember that
God bears with them, giving them His good gifts. And who are we
that we should be less long-suffering than God ! We shaU remember
that we, too, in spite of our utmost goodness, have sins of our own
which likewise demand God's mercy. Do we find that sudi a one
treats us with ungrateful coldness ? Let us think how many a kind-
ness done to us in early days by nurse or friend we have ourselves let
slip from memory. * Peccavimus omnes.' We have aU gone astray
like sheep. We see the mote in our brother's eye ; we are blind to
the beam that is in our own. ^ Aliena vitia in oculis habemus ; a
tergo nostra sunt.' Forgive tiien^ says Seneca, if you would be for-
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1906 CHBI8TUNITY AS A NATURAL BELIGION 498
given. Oonqoer evil with good. Do good to those even who, to
7011, have done onlj evil. Do good to all ; do good to the least among
you. Even the dave is a citizen of the great city which has no
bomidariesy and embraces all mankind. In his inmost sonl the slave
10 his master's equal ; and when, as he can do, he confers a benefit
on his master, he confers it as man on man, both being equal in that
faunily whose conmion father is Ood. Musonius and Epictetus preach
the same doctrines ; and when they pass from man's love of his neigh-
boar to that trealanent of himself in which love of his neighbour has
its root, their likeness to Christ, as teachers, becomes more striking
still. ' The kingdom of heaven is within you,' is the message pro-
claimed by all of them. * True happiness is to be found,' says Epic-
tetus, * where ye do not think to look for it ; for if ye sought it in
yourselves ye would surely find it there.' Wealth may be good, says
Seneca, if it be used for good purposes ; but a man's life consists not
in the abundance of things possessed by him. In the midst of luxury
let a man deny himself daily. Let the spirit be always watchful,
and mortify and subdue the flesh. In the watches of the night let
him examine himself as to the sins of the day. To a knowledge of his
sins, says Epictetus, let a man add the confession of them. The struggle
may be h^, the assaults of the flesh constant; but let us, says
Seneca, take a lesson from the gladiators, and attack our enemies ai
they attack theirs. Let us, too, conquer all things, for the guerdon
of our strug^e is more than crown and palm. ' Nos quoque evincamus
omnia, quorum premium non corona nee palma est.' It is by such a
strug^e, say Hermotimus and Lycius, that we may all hope at last
to reach 'the Celestial City.' And, meanwhile, according to these
pagan teachers, no less than according to the Christian, the soul
must sustain itself, and live with God, through prayer. When ye
pray, said Apollonius of Tyana, ask not of heaven this earthly good
or that. Prayer is not a begging letter ; it is a communion with the
divine nature. If you ask for anything, let your prayer be this only :
'Give me what I ought to have.' 'The only prayer which is an-
swered is,' says Maximus Tyrius, 'the prayer for goodness, peace,
and hope in our last hour.'
Nor were these doctrines private and speculative only. The gospel
of the higher pagamsm was, as Professor Dill points out, preached
in the Boman world no less actively than the Christian. 'The
philosophic director,' as Professor Dill calls him, played a part in
many Roman households like that of a modem priest; and more
significant still was the activity of 'the philosophic missionary.'
Musonius and Maximus were apostolic teachers of the people, whose
discourses are hardly distinguishable from the Christian sermon;
whilst Epictetus invests the philosopher with the character of an
ordained priest. He who gives himself to the ministry does not do
so ligfatly, but because he is called by God. ' God is his Csasar, Who
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494 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Sept.
has sent him forth to pretch.' ^ He is Gkxl's spj ; he is God's hendd
and ambassador.' All men are his sons in Qod ; all women are his
dau^ters ; and his mission is, like a father, to torn them from their
evil ways. Wherefore, says Epictetus, he who wonld follow this high
calling mnst set himself apart, and must not live as others may. He
must teach renmiciation by showing how he can himself renounce.
Not for him are the cares of wife and children, or any of the ttes that
bind others to the worid. Learn of me, says Epictetns : ' Te behold
me, what I am. I am without slaves or diattels. I have not where
to lay my head.' Such is the discipline requisite for Gkxl-s am-
bassadors ; and woe be to them who enter their Master's service
imtrained.
The general likeness which, apart from the doctrines of Christ's
person, the higher theology of paganism bore to that of the Christians,
and the concurrent likeness between their ^new (moral) command-
menta,' require no further comment. In spite of their likeness,
however, the two religious systems exhibit certain difierences, as
systems of theological doctrine, which at first sight seem profound.
We will now consider these ; and under the great^t apparent di£Ew-
enoes we shall discover fresh elements of likeness more marked even-
than those just noticed.
Ill
The most obvious of the differences just alluded to is the follow-
ing. The purest of the pagan monotheists, such as Seneca, Epictetus,
and Plutarch, and even the great Neo-Platomsts, who flourished at
a later date, continued to acknowledge, in some sense, the gods of
the old mythology. This fact, however, as Professor Dill points out,
is by no means so paradoxical as it seems. The many gods were
accepted by them, together with the one supreme God, partly aa
symbols by means of which national and ancestral piety had rendered
intelligible to t^e minds of ordinary men various aspects of the sublime
and inefEable Unity, in adoring which the enlightaied united them-
selves with their simpler bretb^n ; and partly also as actual inter-
mediate Powers, through whose agency the Infinite dealt with and
ruled the finite ; whikt gradually, m the Antonine age, these Powers,
as thus considered, began to change their character, and assumed
the aspect of demons, whose functions resembled those of the Jewish
and Christian angels. These beings became the inspirers of dreams,
the bearers of God's answers to prayer, and also the guardians ot
souls during the trials and temptations of life. Nc»r was this ^ ;
for whilst some of these Powers were transfigured into the host ot
heaven, others, by a corresponding process, became the hosts of
opposing evil — ' strong and terrible spirits, the princes (^ the powers
of the air.' Thus the very polytheism which superficially fonned
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1906 CHBISTJANITT AS A NATUBAL BELIOION 496
ike BtEQOgest contrast to Christianity developed into a most ouriotts
connteipart to certain feataies of the Christian system.
This likeness, howevei, is sop^ficial and unimportant when
compared with that affoided by developments c^ another kind, of
which we will now consider the two most signal examples. Christian
theology from the first offers a seeming contrast to that even of the
most spiritual paganism, in the fact that from the first its tendency
was to become organic, its rites and doctrines being represented as
altogether pecnlii^, derived from a unique source, and exclusive of
all others. The higher paganism, gh the contrary, wore an aspect
of personal eclecticism. It was a religion of schools, of private guesses
and judgments, and varjong fantastic concordats with the grossest
popular superstition, none of which were amenable to any central
and unifying discipline.
Such is the way in which, at first sight, the case is apt to appear
to us ; and in the contrast thus presented there are doubtless elements
of truth; but as historical knowledge advances, and as criticism
becomes more impartial, we see that the contrast was more apparent
than real. In the spiritual plasm or nebulosity of the higher paganism
there were formed at least two spiritual centres or nuclei, from which
were evolved two theological systems, analogous in their logical struc*
ture to that of the Christian CSiurch. One of these was the religion
of Isis ; the other was the religion of Mithra. Both of these had
their roots in the distant past of ancient Egypt and of the East respeo-
ttvely ; but under the spiritual, intellectual, and social conditions
prevailing in the Roman Empire they germinated into something
new.
Isis gradually freed herself in the minds of her new worshippess
from her barbarous provincial trappings, and emeq^ as the uni-
versal Principle, under the guise of the universal Mother. If we
compare her with the same principle as personified in the traditional
Venus, we shall realise the newness of the spirit which animated her
new worsh^pers^ She was not only a goddess ; she was all gods and
goddesses in one. She was 'Isis of the myri^ names.' She was
the Power ' who is all in all.' She imited the strength of man with
1^ tenderness of woman. She was the mother and mourner who^
knew the secrets of all hearts. She was wit^ women in the pangs
of child-birth ; she was the star of the sea to sailors ; she was the
promised light to the soid in the dark passage of death; she was
called ' the Queen of Peace ; ' and communion with her hereafter
was the crown of human life. Nor was she thus the object of mere
&cile and vague emotion. Her service was, like the Christian service
of God, a service of watchful, severe, and (for her saints) of impassioned
purity. Absolute chastity was required of all her priests; and
Tertullian in this respect points to them as an example to Christians.
Like the Christian Church, her Church could be entered only by those
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496 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Sept
who had fall faith in her, and were willing to bear her burden. To
such as these was promised the aid of her sacraments, for the proper
leoeption of which they were prepared by a regular discipline ; and the
•atechnmens whom her CSinrch admitted were received with the
lite of baptism.
But the pagan religion in which, with regard to its organic system,
much of its history, and many of its minute details, the parallel to
Christianity is most startling, is the religion of Mithra. It has been
truly observed that the recovery, only partial as it is, of the history
ol tiiis religion, is one of the most remarkable triumphs of historical
and antiquarian research. Originating in Persia, it was spread
through the Roman Empire by poor and humble converts, who were
at first mainly soldiers, but gradually, like Christianity, it permeated
all ranks ; and its temples are found scattered over the whole civilised
world from Babylon to the hills of Scotland. Just as the religion of Isis
did, it resembled that of Christ in being a religion of inward holiness,
of austere self -discipline and purity ; but the details of its resemblance
are incomparably more close and curious. The briefest sketch of
the matter is iJl that can be attempted here. According to the
IGthraic theology, God, considered in His totaUty , is a Being so infinite
and so transcendent that His direct connection with man and the
udveise is inconceivable. In order to become the father of man,
and creator, He manifested Himself in a second personality — namely,
IGthra, who was in his cosmic character identified with the ^ uncon-
quered sun,' and, as a moral and intellectual Being, was the Divine
Word or Reason, and in more senses than one ^ the Mediator ' between
man and the Most High.. Life on earth, according to the Mithraic
doctrine, is for man a time of trial. The Spirit of Evil, his adversary,
is always seeking to destroy him — ^to crush him with pain and sorrow,
•r to stain his soul with concupiscence ; but in all his struggles Mithra
is at hand to aid him, and will at the last day be at once his judge
and advocate, when the graves give up their dead, when the just are
separated from the unjust, when the saved are welcomed like children
into eternal bliss, and the lost are consumed in the fire prepared
for the Devil and his angels. This Divine Saviour came into the
worid as an infant. His first worshippers were shepherds ; and the
day of His nativity was the 25th of December. His followers preached
a severe and rigid morality, chief amongst their virtues bdng tem-
perance, chastity, renunciation, and self-control. They kept ihe
seventh day holy, and the middle day of each month was a special
feast of Mithra, which symbolised his function of Mediator. They
had seven sacraments, of which the most important were baptism,
eonfirmation, and a Eucharistic supper, at which the communicants
partook of the divine nature of Mithra under the species of bread
and wine.' They were thus made inheritors of eternal life, and
' Professor Frans Camont, in his work, Les MysUres de MUhra, gires a photo-
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1906 CHBI8TIANITT AS A NATURAL BELIGION 497
renewed Btiength was given them to leeist the powen of evil, and
perfect the work for which baptism had already prepared them,
when they were, in their own language, * renati in aetemum ' — ^bom
anew of die spirit.
Though our knowledge of the llithraic religion is to a large extent
recent, and derived from modem discoveries of innumerable temples
and inscriptions, its astonishing likeness to Christianity is no creation
of modem fancy. It was recognised and admitted by contemporary
Christians themselves, and it filled them with such alarm and per-
plexity that they found themselves driven to account for it by sup-
posing that the Devil had listened at the doors of their sanctuaries,
and, in order to discredit Christianity, had invented a fraudulent
imitation of it. A similar explanation was given later by Christians
of fossils, when they first began to receive systematic attention. They
were explained as being works of the Devil, who had mimicked the
art of the Creator and had ingeniously hidden them where he knew
they would be found by men, in order to discredit the authenticity
of the Sacred Scriptures. Neither the origin of fossils, nor the resem-
blance of the llithraic religion to Christianity, would be explained
any longer in this way by even the strictest school of apologists ; but
the real significance of the latter has not yet been recognised by even
the most Uberal defenders of the supernatural Christian claims. Let
us return to the point which I set out with discussing-— namely, the
true logical and the tme practical meaning which underlies the
conception of a supernatural religious revelation, whether we beUeve
such a revelation to have been an actual fact or no.
IV '
It was always admitted by the early apologists of Christianity that
a mere miracle in itself is no guarantee that the worker of it is
a servant and messenger of God. The miracles of paganism were
for the Christian Withers no less real than those of Christ himseU.
They were held, so &r as their mere miraculous character was con-
cerned, to differ from the latter only in being the work of evil demons,
whose object was to propagate not truth but falsehood ; and Christian
theology has always strenuously declared that the miracles which
attest ot convey a tme religious revelation are only to be distinguished
from those which have no such character by the fact that they are,
whilst the others emphatically are not, associated with a system
of moral and spiritual tmth. In other words, the occurrence of
innumerable miraculous events being granted, those which are accepted
as conveying a tme religious revelation are picked out from the rest
graph of a recently disooyered bas-relief, representing a Mithraio commonlon. On
a stnaU tripod is the bread, in the form of small wafers, each, curionsly enough,
marked with a cross. The sacred cap is being presented to two communicants.
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498 TEE NINETEENTH CBNTUBT Sept.
by a natnial moral eclecticism, and are airaoged in a cc4iennt ajstem
by an exercise of the natural intellect. If, then, the Qmstian revela*
tion is held to have ccmveyed imy new knowledge — ^the knowledge^
for example, that Christ's teaching was the teaching of God himself,
that in Christ's reenrrection lay the hopes of the whole world, and
in the eating of his body and blood the whole world's spiritual susten*
ance — ^the revealing Power can, as I have observed already, hav«
done no more than point oat facts to man, which^ like hall-marks
on a piece of plate, would otherwise have escaped his search, bnt
which, when once pointed out to him» he verifies by his own faculties,
either as ratified- by his conscience or as corresponding to his deepest
spiritual aspirations.
And this, which holds good with regard to the Christian religion,
necessarily holds good also with regard to the religions of paganism.
In them, too, the constructive agencies at work were man's natural
moral instincts, his moral wants, his mcoal imagination, and his
intellect. The alleged supernatural truth, then, of the Christian
religion, as contrasted with its pagan rivals, must, in the last resort,
be attested by the superior congruity of its miracles — such as the
incarnation of the Divine Word in Christ, imd the e£Bicacy of the
Christian sacraments — and also of the moral message with which
these miracles were associated, to the spiritual needs and to the
moral consciousness of man ; this superior congruity being verified
either (as Protestants say) by each individual for himself, or (as
Catholics say) by the corporate experience of the Church. In any
case, this practical superiority is the test; but h^e, for those who
hold that Christianity was a revelation from Grod, and that no other
religions were so, the question arises of what the nature of this prac-
tical superiority is. It is necessarily a superiority which, according
to them, renders Christianity tmique in some sense or other. Is the ,
superiority one of degree, or of kindi or of degree and of kind both 1
Orthodox Christians have, up to recent times, abrays contended
that their religion differs from all others, not only as to the degree
to which it teaches truth, but also — and even more obviously— ^as
to the kind of truths taught by it. Its morality has been represented
as unique. Its doctrinal system has been r^resented as imique«
Now what has been shown by modem research is, that the unique*
ness of Christianity, as thus understood, is an illusion. The primary
evolution of Christianity into a moral and theological system was
one only amongst many religious evolutions, which in kind were
precisely similar. There is not a moral doctrine preadied by the
Christian Church which was;not being preached by pagan jnoralists
also ; and, what is still more striking,>every one of those salient features
in the sphere of dogmatic theology, such as the doctrine of the Divine
mediation, and the sacraments, finds its counterpart in the competing
systems of paganism. Paganism, like Christianity, has its. inward
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1906 CHBI8TIANITT AS A NATUBAL BELIGION 499
kingdom of Heaven. The moral teachings of a Seneca are incUstin-
gnidiable from those of the Sermon on the Mount or of Paul. An
ApoUonins teaches men to pray for that which is most fit for
them— in other words, to say only, * Thy will be done.' A Plutarch
points the way to an inner communion with God, in which is to be
found the peace passing understanding. All the pagan moralists
preach the crucifixion of the fleshy the love of others, and the spiritual
equaUty of all men. All the Grods of paganism become symbols or
servants of the one God. They are lost in Zeus, who is the sole
heavenly Father, or in One who is the all-powerful, the all-pure, the
all-pitiful, the divine Mother ; or they are eclipsed by the embodied
Word — ^the cosmic and moral Mediator — through whom alone the
ioUowers of Mithra can know and draw near to the Most High.
Baptism was a pagan rite, no less than a Christian ; Mithra
strengthened the faithful through a sacrament of confirmation, and
the faithful partook of his merits through the consiunption of bread
and wine.
Christianity, then, even in respect of those details which have
conmionly been supposed to stamp it as a thing apart, can no longer
be regarded as a reUgion which is alone in kind. The utmost that
can be claimed for it is, that it hit the middle of a target at which all
the higher minds of the pagan world were aiming. This claim, how-
ever, may be made in three senses. It may be made as impljdng
that out of a multitude of miraculous messages, some true, some
false, the followers of Christ alone detected those that were true and
built up their system by the special aid thus given them ; or that the
Christian miracles stood alone, the miracles of the higher paganism
being the products of man's moral imagination ; or that all the miracles,
pagan and Christian also, had their origin in the moral imagination
equally — ^the moraUty of the followers of Christ, and consequently their
imagined miracles, being nearer to, and more fully symbolising, the
actual truth of things.
Now it may be safely said that, of these three impUcations, the
second is no longer adopted by even the most conservative of Christian
apologists. No one any longer believes that the old pagan gods were
devils who worked miracles with the object of deceiving men. The
only alternative suppositions which are now seriously c<msid«»d
are the supposition that all miracles are imaginary, the Christian
miracles excepted ; and the supposition that all miracles are imagi-
nary, the Christian miracles included, both being alike the products
of the moral imagination of man, which invests inward realities with
an outward pictorial form. Bui in either case, Christianity, as
assimilated by man, will present itself as the product of man's natural
powers, no less than the pagan religions ; only in the one case it will
have recognised and developed certain truths to which the attention
of Christians was first called supematurally ; and in the second case
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600 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Sept.
it will have developed and symbolified trotha which the foUowefs
of Chiist diflcovered by thdr exceptional moral insight.
That Christianity is founded on a genuine supematuial revelation,
which inoculated man with certain special spiritual perceptions,
is a position which may be reasonably maintained in spite of all the
facts just mentioned ; but what those who maintain it will have to
show is, that the degree to which Christianity difEers from other
religions is one which cannot be accounted for on any other hypo-
thesis. There are many notorious facts which offer themselves in
support of this contention. The higher paganisms have perished;
the Christian religion has survived. Christianity and the higher
paganisms all sprang from the matrix of earlier doctrines ; but Chris-
tianity enjoyed two signal advantages. It inherited from the Jews
a monotheistic system which was not encumbered by a deification
of the separate forces of Nature. The higher paganisms could never
entirely disentangle themselves from fantastic cosmogonies which
were fast becoming incredible, and which even, when treated as
symbdis, tended to excite a smile. Christianity, moreover, as Pro-
fessor Cumont points out, had for its Divine Mediator an actual
historical character, whereas the earthly career of llithra belonged
to an unimaginable past. Much more may, to the same purpose,
with perfect propriety, be urged on the orthodox side.
On the other hand, those who, whilst fully recognising in Chris-
tianity a fuller measure of truth than in any of its superseded rivals,
regard its superiority as one of degree only, have much to say in
favour of their own position also. How is it possible, they will ask,
to draw a hard and fast line any longer between religions which
coincide so closely, not only in their moral teaching, but also in the
most minute details of their doctrinal and miraculous symbolism?
Are not they all expressions of a common human spirit, striving to
express itself in accordance with a common human nature t And
if it be true that religions such as that of Mithra yielded to, and
were absorbed by, Christianity, partly because the theology of the
latter proved to be more in accordance with man's natural knowledge
of the universe, may it not happen that Christianity, for similar
reasons, will be absorbed by some new theology as our knowledge
of the universe increases !
W. H. Mallook.
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1905
A POLITICAL RETROSPECT
It is now forty-one years ago, when returning from Central Asia, that
I thought it my duty to lay before the British pubhc my experience
in Central Asia. The reception I was fatvoured with in the Press
made it easy for me to publish anything connected with Russia's
designs upon the North- Western Frontier of India. It is very natural
that in my position as a foreigner and a Hungarian, my temporary
attacks against your rival in Asia, and my allusions to the dire cor-
ruption and rottenness of Russian administration, were often sub-
jected to stafange criticism, nay declared to be the outcome of national
faQatidsm, and of the overheated brain of an obdurate anti-Russian
imter. Happily^ however, my long sojourn in various countries of
modem Asia had tended to produce in me that amount of equanimity
and coolness which is necessary in poUtical controversy, and this
disposition had made me indifferent to the misinterpretation of my
writings. . When called an eccentric traveller, the prince of alarmists,
and the inveterate foe of Russia, I took these epitiliets quietly, and I
said to myself : ^ Wait only; time will come when your predictions
will turn out true, and when your critics will say that it was neither
blind Anglomania nor a preconceived hatred of Russia which has
actuated your pen.'
Now, I dare say, this time has come. The Russian disasters in the
Far East have proved, on the one hand, that the colouring in which
I depicted the state of affairs in Russia was certainly not too glaring ;
whilst, on the other hand, the optimistic politicians of your country
have acquired by this time ample evidence of Russia's mischievous
plans ia lUd-Asia. I have no desire to show pride in the realisation
of my prophecies, stiU less am I inclined to exult over the misfortunes
of Russia, for the expression— ^cAo^fen/reucZe— cannot be rendered in
English, nor will your philologists try to naturalise that word. The
object of these few lines is simply to give an account of the reasons
which have induced me for so many years to persist in the tendency
of my writings, and at the same time to put forward the main
causes by which my opponents have been misled in their appre-
ciation of Russia, and in the perception of her poUcBT. To begin
with, I b^ leave to point to the fact that men thoroughly
601
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602 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Sept.
acquainted vnth Asia have always differed in their judgment of
Russian affairs from those who had no practical experience of the
East, and who viewed Russia from the European standpoint. In the
eyes of the latter ones, a Russian talking fluently French, English,
or German, and showing all the attributes of a highly civilised
European, was evidently taken as the very prototype of Western
culture ; whereas, the former, undeceived by outer appearance, could
not help discovering under the deceitful garb of European habits and
manners all the &ults, vices, barbarities, and prejudices which have
shocked the student of the East in his intercourse with men clad in
kaftan and turban. The Turk, Arab, and Persian, however faultless
his European education may be, is never able to play the role of a
modem European so adroitly and so deceptively as the Russian,
hence our illusion with regard to the latter, hence the fallacy of
our having always overrated tiie Russian civilisation, and hence the
far and widespread belief in the boundless power of the superficially
known &bric called the Russian Empire.
t Now since Japan has pricked the Russian bubble, the general
surprise may be well understood, but the astonishment is not shared
Vy those who had penetrated more deeply into the character of the
Eastern ^world, for to the latter it was always patent that under-
neath its cover Russia is strictly Asiatic, nay, in certain points even
more Asiatic than genuine Turkey, Persia, &c. To quote one example,
we refer to the recent interior troubles, when anarchy and lawless-
ness^have spread all over the country in a way which no national
disaster or political catastrophe would have entailed in Turkey or
Persia.
In the face of this sudden collapse and of this ilnparalleled down-
fall of a once-dreaded Power, we may well put the question : would it
not have been more salutary for Rusaa if her fraudulent play upon
Europe had been less effective, and if the Western worid, by sooner
awakening from the delusion, had not constantiy stirengtiiened the
ruling elements of Russia in their self-conceit in tiie illusory progress
and in the unwarranted sentiment of power ? Unfortunately, just the
contrary has taken place. During the past century, and particularly
in the second half of it, we heard and read constantly of the vast
and endless power of the Empire of tiie Czars, of its important role
as a civiliser of Asia ; and even Englishmoi went so far as to pretend
that the national character of the Rusaans is better fitted 4o civilise
Asia than is that of the more civilised but stiff and rigid English-
man. ' From those and similar other conceptions sprang the belief
in the invincibility of Russia, who was cajoled and courted by its near
and distant neighbours, thus giving rise to feelings of fear and to a
general consideration. Not only did our ruling statesmen show an
outspoken awe to the will of the Court of Saint Petersburg, but a
great English poUtician went so far as to call the head of that
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1906 A POLITICAL BETBOSPECT 603
despotic and inward rottenly state : ^ The Divine Figure of the
North.' It is bat natoitd that the semi-Asiatic Society, being
coDStantfy exalted and petted, had very soon begun to beUeve in
its own greatness. The self-conceit of Russia had no bounds. With
certain European cabinets her will was near to become a law, and
in most of the intematKonal questions a frown of the Jupiter on the
Neva began to weigh down the scale. To those who looked at the
bottom of Russian aSairs, the behaviour of our cabinets was decidedly
inoomprehensiUe ; but there was no help,^ no means to cure the
blindr^ of our diplomatists, until clever oculists like Ifarshal Oyama
and Admiral Togo appeared on the scene, proving to the Western
statesmen how shortsighted they were, and how shallow and empty
was the power of the much-dreaded Northern giant.
Hap^y historical evolutions have always their own way, which
cannot be baned by ignorance, mistakes, and other human frailties.
The world sees to^lay what Russia is, irrespective of the future
before her, idiich nobody can or' will deny. The recent events in
the Par East are rich in moral lessons to the neighbours of Russia,
and particularly to England, who will certainly not neglect to shape
accordingly her policy in Asia. It is useless to deny that England
oommitted grave mistakes in the past through overrating Russia's
power, and by being afraid when her rival put to her breast the pistol
—which was never loaded. At present the time of empty phrases like
' Asia is big enough for England and for Russia,' or ^ a powerful but
civilised neighbour in the North- West of India is preferable to an un-
civilised but weak one,' is decidedly gone. No indulgence or hyper-
cautiousness is justified to-day, and if the issue of the Russo-
Japanese war had taken place fifty years ago, I am sure the ominous
' masterly inactivity ' would never have been invented. As matters
stand to-day, England can go on quietly strengthening her rule
and civilising the portion of Asia allotted to her. Whilst admitting
the deep feeling of vengeance existing in Russia against England,
unjustly called the instigator of the present war, and conceding the
possibility that this grudge may find expression through the two
hundred thousand Russian soldiers massed on various points in the
north of Afghanistan, I do not see any danger for England in the near
future. Russia may try to retrieve the moral effect of her losses in
the Far East by attacking England, as the completion of the Oren-
burg-Tashkend line and the railway from Samarkand to Eilif, as well
as the increase of her garrisons at Eushk and Kerki, unmistakably
show. But vana sine viribiis ira. In the first place we may point to
the fact that the great justification for Russian encroachment, viz. her
prestige amongst Asiatics, has been totally ruined in consequence of
her defeats in the Far East. Her arms have lost their former reputa-
tion of invincibility, and the sudden change in the minds of the Asiatics
is best shown by the recent murderous attacks on Armenians in
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604 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Sept
Eliorassan and in TranscaucaaU, a race which theMnawilmana identify
with the Roflflians. To this change of mind may be attributed the
light-abont-face of Emir Habibnllah of Afghanistan, who bng ago
remained in the sulking comer, and who was steadilj negotiating
with the Russians. Quite recently, however, he took a new course, as
seen by the happy result of Sir Louis Dane's mission to Kabul.
A^urt from this extraordinary change in the minds of the Moslem
world, we can well pass over in silence the new issue noticeable in
England's policy witii regard to Central Asia. The manly utterance
of Lord Lansdowne concerning British interests in the Persian GuU
and the moderate and wise language used by Mr. Balfour with regard
to the extension of Russian railways into Afghanistan, leave no doubt
as to the resoluteness of England's policy in the defence of her Lidian
Empire. We may be sure that these official utterances wiU not remain
empty words as heretofore. If this new turn of England's policy in
Centnd Asia deserves to be hailed with joy by aU fnends of dvilisa-
tion, justice, and humanity, it will be easily understood how great
must be the satisfaction of those who pleaded many, many years for
this turn, and who see now realised what they fervently desired.
A. Vaicb£by.
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1906
THE SESSION
The Prime Mmister has gone to his golf with a dear conscienoe, or at
least with the odd trick, and the triumph of ^godless intellect' is
almost immorally complete. If the Session has exhibited Mr. Balfonr
as a man of few scruples and many shifts, it has also shown his
superiority to all competitors in the devices of Parliamentary manage-
ment. No on^ on the Front Opposition bench, or indeed on any other,
knows so many moves in the game. Mr. Chamberlain was thought
to know a thing or two. But, compared with Mr. Balfour, he is a
child. One thing, indeed, Mr. Balfour has lost, if he cared to possess
it, and that is the respect of his opponents. A year ago Liberals used
to speak of him with so mi;ch sympathy and admiration that one
felt tempted to ask them why they did not follow him. Now they
say that he has demoralised the House of Cbmmons, and has himself
become demoralised in the process. The estimate may be quite
unjust. I give it for what it is worth, and as a significant sign of the
times. Great part of Mr. Balfour's power used to Ue in the fact that
those whose business it was to criticise him in the House of Cbmmons
discharged the task with obvious reluctance, as if they loved him all
the time. Whether that were a wholesome, or an unwholesome,
state of things, it is gone. Sir Edward Grey has declared himself to
be on that subject of the same opinion as Mr. Lloyd-Gr6orge. Nor are
the tariff reformers, as they are pleased to call themselves, much
more fatvourable to the Prime Minister than Liberals and free traders.
They feel that they have been treated like pawns in the game, that
their chance of winning, such as it was, has been sacrificed to a mere
policy of continuance in office ; and they will not be comforted by the
spectacle of Mr. Austen Chamberlain bowing himself in the House of
Rimmon, while they worship unrewarded in the true shrine. It
must be rather annoying, when one comes to think of it. The Chan-
cellor of the Exchequer may be a Heaven-bom statesman, combining
the financial talents of Pitt, Peel, and Gladstone. The hereditary
principle he was brought up to denounce may have had nothing to
do with his appointment. But it cannot be denied that he receives
five thousand a year for upholding a system under which in his opinion
the British Empire is being rapidly and irretrievably ruined, while
Vol. LVm— No. 848 606 L L
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606 THE NINETEENTH CENTVBY Sept.
those who share his views, and act honestl7 up to them, receive neither
praise nor pay. A little irritation is excusable in the drcumstances,
and has been, not inaudibly, expressed.
Only one of Mr. Balfour's colleagues has done anything worth
mentioning in the last twelve months. To Lord Lansdowne belongs
the credit for what is called in France the friendly understanding,
and in England the entente oordiale. There could have been no more
feUcitous epilogue to the Session than the Anglo-French breakfast in
Westminster Hall, when the rafters of Richard the Second echoed to
the Lord Chancellor's French. The officers of the French Navy, and
the sailors also, have been greeted with an enthusiasm unknown in
this country since Marshal P61issier, Lord Raglan's Crimean colleague,
came over as French ambassador in 1857. The entente oordiale with
Louis Philippe ended in the Spanish marriages. The seizure of
Savoy disturbed a similar arrangement with Louis Napoleon. At
present the two countries approach each other on an equal footing
of self-government, although the King has done much by his gracious
tact to promote the establishment of amicable relations. If England
and France have not always been able to maintain the peace of Europe,
that peace has never been secure except when they were friends.
The speeches made in Westminster Hall were less remarkable than
the occasion they celebrated. But the first official appearance of the
Speaker outside the House of Commons is an opportunity for express-
ing the universal opinion of his singular fitness for his new duties
as a real Member of ParUament, imbued with Pcurliamentary tradition,
and zealous for the authority of the House at large.
The legislative results of the Session are, as politicians say, meagre
in the extreme. The AUen Act appears to be generally popular,
except with a few obsolete, individuals, not worth mentioning or
counting, who cherish the traditionary view of England as the home
of freedom and the refuge of the oppressed. Even they are disposed
to think that it will not prove more practically operative than the
statute for prohibiting the importation of goods made in foreign
prisons, under which, I believe, a mat was once solemnly and publicly
burnt. There are, however, two views of the Alien Act. Mr. Balfour
thinks that it will check the immigration of lunatics, whom the Tarifi
Reform Committee, or some other agency, attracts to these shores.
Mr. Chamberlain, an equally high, though on this occasion a divergent
authority, holds that it will prevent the competition of foreign with
native labour. Sane, tmaggressive, tolerant competition is always un-
welcome to monopolists. But Mr. Keir Hardie's amendment to exclude
foreign workmen engaged by British employers in a strike was rejected
by a large majority, and no one will come under the Act who takes
the precaution of securing a job before he starts, or crosses from
Dover to Calais. Avoidance of scheduled ports will be necessary for
destitute aliens, and employment will be provided for a conaiderahle
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1906 THE SESSION 507
number of inspectors. In this way the Alien Act may well prove
more efficient than the Unemployed Labour Act, which has been cut
down to infinitesimal dimensions, and limited to a period of three
years. The crude Socialism which marked it at first was not charac-
teristic of Mr. Oerald Balfour, who had charge of it, and may have
been due to his predecessor, Mr. Walter Long. It is a very dangerous
thing to teach the working classes that the soil of this country, or
of any other, will support unlimited numbers. Say what pUlan-
thropists will, the old Malthusian axiom, with a slight modification,
must always be true. Population does not actually increase faster
than the means of subsistence, because people cannot live without
food; bat it does tend to increase faster than the means of sub-
sistence can be increased, and that tendency lies at the root of all
social problems. A recognition that the State, meaning every tax-
payer, from the richest to the poorest, is bound to find work for all
who want it involves a tremendous, indeed an impracticable, responsi-
bility. As the BiU was altered, and as it passed, it can do Uttle harm,
and may, on the other hand, if judiciously administered, do a great
deal of good by furnishing proper machinery for the distribution of
charitable relief. Lord Hugh Cecil, who made the best speech on the
Bill, pointed out, what is too often overlooked, that acceptance of
money from the rates by men out of work through no fault of their
own involves no stigma of discredit or disgrace. They have them-
selves contributed to the fund from which they are relieved. What
does degrade, because it rests upon falsehood, is employment upon
work provided for the purpose, and not required by the conmiunity.
It is quite a different, and quite a sound, principle, that local bodies
should carry out public improvements at seasons when labour is
abundant, and the demand for it comparatively slack. More important
than an Act reduced to mere framework is the decision of the Govern-
ment to appoint a Royal Conunission on the Poor Law. There has
been no such inquiry since the Commission of 1833, which produced
the new poor law, the famous Act of 1834. That Act established on
a permanent and rational footing the system for relief of the poor
in rural districts. It is the far graver and more complicated subject
of pauperism in towns which has now to be dealt with and thought
out. Lord Selby will be a dignified and impartial chairman. His
colleagues should not be numerous, nor associated in the public mind
with any particular nostrums.
The most successful piece of legislation included in the King's
Speech is the Scottish Church Act. If it had not been passed, there
would have been numerous breaches of the peace in Scotland, and
Ministerial candidates beyond the border might as well have retired
into private life. The Act as passed, which owes much to the judicious
amendments of Mr. Thomas Shaw, has been accepted by all parties of
Presbyterians, who alone are concerned. The pretence that it does
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508 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Sept.
not reverse ihe judgment of the House of Lords is one of those diplo-
matic fictions which have most weight outside the sphere of diplomacy.
The decision of the Lord Chancellor and of Lord Davey, from which
two of the greatest lawyers in England, Lord Lindlej and Lord
Maonaghten, emphatically dissented, was neither practically feasible
nor historically sound. It rested upon the double, and doubly unsound,
hypothesis that the funds of the Free Church were subscribed to sup-
port the ^establishment' principle, and that the small minority
who remained faithful to that principle were capable of administering
them. The Act sweeps away the whole structure of impossible
fiction, and leaves the Royal Commissioners to distribute the property
in accordance with the elements of justice. That a serious blow has
been struck at the authority of the Lords as an appellate tribunal
it would be idle to deny. But if other noble persons, besides Lord
Cringletie, have little law, necessity has none, and if judges turn a
Church into a chartered company. Parliament must turn the chartered
company back into a Church. It is an ill wind that blows no good,
and the established Elirk of Scotland has reaped some profit from the
dissension of Free Churchmen. Mr. Balfour, a philosophical Erastian,
like Hobbes, understood his countrymen, and drove a bargain. The
original Bill was conspicuously unfair to the United Frees. It was
modified to suit their wishes on condition that a clause which had
nothing to do with the objects of the measure should be allowed to
pass. Accordingly, the (General Assembly of the Auld Eirk will be
able, not indeed to change its doctrines, but to alter the terms of
subscription, and to relax them as much as it pleases. This is,
indeed, a singnlar consequence of a judgment which denied the right
of a voluntary communion to change an article of its creed without
forfeiting the whole of its property.
The Government have successfully resisted all attempts to force
horn them a disclosure of their fiscal poUcy, or to obtain a statement
of the line they will take at the next Colonial Conference. The most
they could be got to say was that invitations to the next Conference,
due in 1906, would not be sent before Parliament met again. The
Duke of Devonshire did his best, and the debate which he began in
the House of Lords would have been creditable to the representatives
of the taxpayers in another place. The Duke knows his own mind,
and, having stood up to Mr. Gladstone, does not find much difficulty
in dealing with Lord Lansdowne. He is really a Free Trader, and
has no faith in preference or retaliation, in a scientific tariff or a penal
one. Mr. Chamberlain, represented in the House of Lords by Lord
Ridley, is the exact opposite, and believes in every clause of the
Protectionist or Prohibitionist catechism. What is the (Jovemment ?
The question is as difficult to answer now as it was when Lord Derby
formed his first Ministry in 1852, and Mr. Vernon Harcourt scored
his earliest political success with his pamphlet on the Morality of
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1906 THB SSSStON ' 609
PabUc Men, which is well w(^h reading at the present time. The
impression made by Mr. Balfour among Ufelong Tories was shown
in the speech of Lord Robertson upon the Duke of Devonshire's
motion. A Cabinet Minister, whose name escapes me, found &ult
with this speech as not becoming a Judge. Perhaps it is' Utopian,
but I am sometimes disposed to wish that in the absence of other
qualifications a Uttle knowledge of the Constitution should be required
for entrance to the Cabinet. Lord Robertson is no doubt a Judge,
a Judge of Judges, a Lord of Appeal. It would not be proper for him
to attend a party meeting or support a poUtical candidate. But he
is a Peer of ParUament, and has predsely the same right as any other
Peer, including the Lord Chancellor, to join in Parliamentary debate.
BKs speech is peculiarly significant because it illustrates with incisive
vigour the fact that Free Trade does not belong to Liberals only. A
whole generation of Conservatives has grown up in attachment to
PeeUte doctrines, and would resist any departure from them quite
as strongly as the Liberal Unionists resisted Home Rule.
The dregs of a Session are apt to be dull. But after the defeat
of the Qovemment on the bish Estimates the House of Commons
was kept in a state of continued excitement. As Mr. Asquith put
it in his amusing sketch of the situation, the Ministerialists were
afraid when the Liberal benches were fuU, still more afraid when they
were empty, and most afraid of all when they were neither empty
nor fuU. The danger dreaded was what is colloquially called a ' snap
division.' A snap division means one taken at an imusual hour
or on a point not supposed to be controversial. The phrase cannot,
without absurdity, be applied to a division at midnight in a House
of four hundred upon an amendment moved by the Leader of the
NationaUst party, and discussed for the whole of a sitting. But the
haunting spectre of an ambuscade destroyed the nerves of those
whose seats were shaky, as what Tory seat in these days is not ?
Even in earUer months of the year it was a frequent thing for member
after member to speak against time from behind the Government
between nine and eleven, lest Radicals should have a majority while
the gentlemen of England were dining. These manoeuvres, if they
deserve the name, do not add to the dignity of public Ufe, and are
only needed because members will neither attend nor pair. Mr.
Balfour's Rules have increased the chances of surprise. Two o'clock
is an impossible hour for lawyers or men of business, and the adjourn-
ment at half-past seven deprives the Whips of a soUd bulwark in the
men, a fairly constant average, who dined at the House. Except
for loungers and loafers, the old hours were the best. For good or
for evil, however, they have been finally abandoned, and the House
of Commons must accustom itself to the changed conditions of its
environment. The question people are asking themselves and each
other now is, Will this House of Commons ever meet again ? There
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610 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Sept.
is certainly nothing to show that it will not. A Redistribution Bill
has been as good as promised. There is talk of a Boundary Committee.
An Education Bill for Scotland and a Bill for amending the Work-
men's Compensation Act remain to be passed. The Ministerial
majority in the House of Commons is still seventy. The House of
Lords when a Conservative Government is in oflEice may always
be neglected. If a liberal Ministry attempted to violate Sir WiUiiun
Anson's constitutional maxim by disregarding pubUc opinion expressed
at the polls, the Lords would force them to dissolve by rejecting all
their Bills, even, if necessary, their Appropriation Bills. Every
Bill introduced by a Conservative Ministry is accepted by the Peers as
a matter of course. I have often been told by legal sages and consti-
tutional pundits that the House of Lords was a Chamber of Review,
necessary, if for no other purpose, at least for correcting the errors of
the more impulsive Commons. They had a good opportunity the
other day. The Alien Bill is by no means a model of drafting, and
it came up from the House of Commons a good deal the worse for
wear. Changes were imperatively needed, and Lord Davey pro-
posed some, of which the utiUty could not be contested. But the
Lord Chancellor, staunchest of poUtical partisans, would not allow
a word to be changed, lest the Bill should go back to the Commons,
and the Session be prolonged by a day. No wonder that such a
grotesque travesty of the legislative process was received with ironical
cheering by the handful of Liberal Peers. If the House of Lords
were equally amenable to this sort of pressure from whichever side
it came, a weakness that was impartial might be forgiven. Liberals
would be more or less than human if they looked with complacency
upon umpires who always gave them out. Yet I see no sign that
they have considered what they would do if a General Election returned
them to office. Every power possessed by the Lords would be in
a moment revived. Bills which were not thrown out altogether
would be mangled beyond hope of recognition, and no Bill which
came up in August would be allowed to pass at all. The only chance
for Liberal legislation would be an overwhelming majority, and from
that point of view the postponement of dissolution has its advan-
tages. If Mr. Gladstone had obtained the majority independent
of the Irish vote for which he asked in 1885, the whole subsequent
course of English history might have been different. Such a pre-
ponderance is at least equaUy important now. Tariff reformers
are indignantly protesting that if Mr. Balfour had dissolved after
Lewisham and Dulwich, Mr. Chamberlain would have swept the
country. An ingenious statistician, a Unionist and a free trader,
told me that those two very contests had first brought home to his
mind the disruption of his party. I have no skill in these matters.
But I am not convinced by arithmetical arguments to prove Uiat
the Government lost groimd more rapidly before than after the fiscal
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1906 THE SESSION 611
question was raised. There are some conclusions, however syllogistic,
against which one's common sense revolts, and Free Trade has been
a prominent issue at every by-election since the month of May, 190S.
It is understood that Mr. Chamberlain desires a dissolution in Novem-
ber, when Mr. Balfour will have just b^un to think about politics
again. The memory of Mr. Gladstone has been aspersed because
he did not dissolve tUl January, 1874, although a series of by-elections
had shown that his Government no longer conmianded the support
of the constituencies. No one found that fault with him at the time.
On the contrary, he was generally blamed for dissolving when he
did. It must be remembered that he had resigned in March, 1873,
and that Mr. Disraeh had refused to take office, which would have
carried with it the right of appealing at once to the country. The
same statesman, employed alternatively as an awful example and
as a constitutional Pope, has been credited with the strange doctrine
that the loss of by-elections was no reason for dissolving. What
he really said was that it could not be a ground for resigning, as of
course it is not, and never has been. In his address to the electors
of Greenwich Mr. Gladstone gave the evidence of the polls as a motive
for taking the sense of the people, and the fact, first disclosed by
Mr. Morley, that he differed with the heads of the spending depart-
ments about the necessary expenditure for the year only proves that
he had more motives than one. If Mr. Balfour were to dissolve
Parliament during the autumn no one would dream of charging him
with reckless and impulsive precipitancy.
The end of the Session would have been a good deal more lively
if it was then known that Lord Curzon had resigned. His resigna-
tion, though not unexpected, has even now stirred the tranquil waters
of politics in August. Mr. Brodrick's notorious tact in dealing with
men has for once failed him, and his gentle claim to have always
supported the Viceroy has been roughly disallowed by Lord Curzon.
The incident is characteristic of both parties in the dispute, who
have taken care to dwell throughout upon the personal aspect of it.
* I govern India,' says the Viceroy. * Under me, if you please,' says
the Secretary of State. It is not perhaps very dignified, and it will
not tend to foster respect for British'l^authority in the native mind.
But as Mr. Brodrick, whom Mr. Balfour described in the House of
Commons as having been an ideal Secretary for War, and as
being an ideal Secretary for India, was supported by .the Prime
Minister and his colleagues in the Cabinet, Lord Curzon, like Mr.
Wyndham, has gone under. Being only an Irish Peer, he is free,
if he can find a constituency, to re-enter the House of Commons,
and state his grievance there. Whatever his faults may have been,
his services to the public have been splendid and conspicuous. No
Governor-General since Dalhousie has worked harder, and when
he accepted a renewal of his tenure, his devotion to^duty received
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612 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Sept. 1906
just praise. If his speeches have not always been discreet, and if
he has forfeited in his second term the popularity with the native
races which he acquired in his first, his nnflinching courage and inde-
fatigable industry were the admiration of all who worked with him
or under him. Lord Kitchener and he being both masterful men,
it was perhaps natural that they should disagree, and tiiat the abler
of the two should in the end prevail. The merits of the question,
which has been settled by the Cabinet, with some vain show of com-
promise, in Lord Ejtchener's favour, are not easy for anyone to under-
stand who has had no experience of Anglo-Lidian Qovemment. But
it seems on the face of things reasonable that the Cknnmander-in-Chief ,
since he sits on the Viceroy's Council, should sit there as the repre-
sentative of the Army, and the Council, or in the last resort the Viceroy
himself, who can overrule all his colleagues, will nominally retain
the supreme control in civilian hands. In claiming the appointment
of Sir Edmund EUes's successor Lord Curzon chose his ground badly.
For no Secretary of State has a right to compromise the position of
his successor by delegating or surrendering a power which is his by
law. The conflict now terminated was really begun when the India
Office refused to permit the annexation of Thibet, or the indefinite
occupation of the Chumbi Valley. Since the adoption by the Cabinet
of Lord Kitchener's military reforms Lord Curzon has been at open
war with Mr. Brodrick, and the extraordinary tone of his language
in Council was brought before the House of Commons by that most
Conservative of all Liberals, Sir Henry Fowler. Sir Henry was
undoubtedly right. The minister responsible to Parliament must
control policy so long as Parliamentary Government exists. Lord
Minto, accustcHned to act in Canada by the advice of the Canadian
Cabinet, is not likely to give trouble. But he wiU find Lord Kitchener
master of the situation, and to uphold his own legitimate authority
in India will take him all his time.
Herbert Paul.
Note
In an article on the Butler Report, which appeared in the Nine-
teenth Century for July, it was stated by inadvertence that Chief
Justice de Villiers, of Cape Colony, had referred to grave irregularities in
Colonel Morgan's department. The reference to enormous losses on the
sale of military stores in South Africa was made not by Sir Henry de
Villiers, but by Sir James BoseJnnes, Chief Justice of the Transvaal,
after Colonel Morgan had left South Africa. No reflection was made by
the Chief Justice upon Colonel Morgan or any other officer.
H. P.
The Editor of The Nineteenth Century ccmnot undertake
to return vmaccepted M8S,
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THE
NINETEENTH
CENTUEY
AND AFTER
XX
XIX
No. CCCXLIV— October 1905
THE NEW ALLIANCE
The upa and downs of political life have often baffled the most in-
genious calculations, as Bolingbroke was not the first to remark.
The sudden conclusion of the war in the East, and the renewal of the
Anglo-Japanese Alliance, have certainly done something, how much
it is difficult to say, towards giving a moribund (Government a fresh
lease of life. It is true that the leaders of the Opposition accept
on this point the policy of the Cabinet, and have no fault to find
with it. But their approval was reserved until the Russian fleet
had been destroyed, and the form of statesmanship which waits upon
events, though sometimes inevitable, and in this case perfectly justi-
fiable, loses with the risk of discredit the chance of triumph. Had
Japan been defeated by Russia, Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman and
Mr. Asquith, if they could not say ' We told you so,* could at least
have said, ' We have nothing to do with it.* This natural reserve is
often as patriotic as it is prudent. For no one outside the Cabinet, and
perhaps not everyone inside it, can fully estimate the forces which
control foreign affairs. I have never been one of those who thought
that the relations of this country with her neighbours^ either in Europe
Vol. LVIU— No. 344 M M
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614 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Oct.
or in Asia, could be altogether removed from the sphere of party.
Burke's celebrated defimtion certainly covers them. 'Party is a
body of men united for promoting by their joint endeavours the
national interest upon some particular principle in which they are
all agreed.' But then (and it is a big but) those who attack the foreign
poUcy of a Government must be clearly persuaded in their own minds
that they know enough to condemn it. If there be any reasonable
doubt, they should give the benefit to men who know more than they
do. Cases may of course arise, as, for example, Lord Beaconsfield's
defence of Turkey, when Burke's ' particular principle in which they
are all agreed' admits with Liberals of no compromise or doubt.
Had ' splendid isolation,' the avoidance of all alliances, been an article
of the Liberal faith, like the right of the Sultan's Christian subjects
to freedom, all other arguments would have had to give way. The
conclusion of the Japanese Treaty in 1902 raised no such general
doctrine, and grave indeed would have been the mistake of opposing
it. Against its renewal now no one in England has a word to say.
Three years ago things were very different, and the Foreign Secre-
tary is entitled to the credit of his foresight. When we remember
that he also negotiated the Treaty with France, we must consider
that he is what the late Mr. Rhodes would have called a valuable
asset to the Government. Therd are indeed two Lord Lansdownes.
There is Lord Lansdowne the Retaliatiomst, the Big Revolver Man,
producing in the House of Lords a neat Uttle bundle of fly-blown
fallacies, which many bojrs in the first hundred at Eton could refute
without difficulty before breakftet. There is also the accomplished
diplomatist, watching with a keen eye for every opportunity to com-
bine the protection of British interests with the maintenance of
peace. This combination is the real value of the new Alliance, and
to Lord Lansdowne belongs the honour of making it before Japan
had become one of the great powers of the world. Entre Us aveugles
leborgne est roi. It is not among his own colleagues that Lord Lans*
downe has any reason to fear competition. But in tracing the connec*
tion of England and Japan we must go a Uttle further back. It was the
late Lord Elgin who made the first treaty with Japan in the year 1858,
when the feudal sjrstem still prevailed there. That was a commercial
arrangement only, though it had important consequences, for it intro-
duced Japan to the civilisation of the West. When Lord Rosebery
was at the Foreign Office in 1894, he took an equally significant step
of a different kind by abolishing the capitulations, and recognising
the jurisdiction of the Japanese courts over British subjects in return
for freedom of travel and trade. After the war with China Lord
Rosebery, being then Prime Minister, took a still more decisive course.
He refused to join the combination of European Powers which under
Russia's influence prevented Japan from acquiring Korea as the
result of hei victories over China. From that time Japan has regarded
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1905 THE NEW ALLIANCE 516
England as her friend, and therefore both {parties, if that matters,
are entitled to claim a share in secnring her friendship. Lord Lans-
downe, however, is the real author of the policy which rests upon
Anglo-Japanese co-operation in the East, and if the Government
went out of office to-morrow, he at least would have no cause for
repentance. It is not likely that his colleagues, always excepting
the Prime Minister, had much to do with the business. There are
Liberals who would not be at all sorry to see Lord Lansdowne remain
at the Foreign Office, whatever the result of the next General Election,
if only he were a Free Trader. One need not be a Nipponomaniac, one
need not exclaim ^ Almost thou persuadest me to be a heathen ' at the
sight of a Japanese Plenipotentiary in a i»oture paper, to feel the
importance of this new understanding. Seldom, perhaps never, in
the history of the world, has any power displayed so suddenly and
unexpectedly such singular aptitude for diplomacy and for war. The
war speaks for itself. The Russian army is demoralised, and the
Rumian navy is gone. The diplomatic victory may seem to be with
Russia. But that is a delusion. Inasmuch as popular rejoicings
over the peace are forbidden in Russia, there is at least some
colour for the theory that Nicholas the Second, a very inferior
edition of Nicholas the First, desired a ccmtinuance of the war. God
forgive him if he did. The hcHTors of modem warfare are only weakened
by rhetorical descriptions. Mr. Maurice Baring's WUh the Russiana
in Manchuria is more effective in its severe resti^int than any amount
of agoniatng detail. Three or four pages of it, the only pages which
deal with the subject, are enough to show the immensity of torture
which peace has spared.
The sole credit for peace belongs to the Japanese Government,
who proved themselves as wise and prudent as they were generous
and humane. To fight for money until there was no money left to
fight for would have injured both Powers, and involved enormous cost.
As it is, Japan has raised herself to a position which a couple of years
ago would have appeared the wildest of dreams. Half a convict
island, even though it be the less icy half, may not seem very magnifi-
cent. But there is Port Arthur ; there is Dalny ; there is Korea. The
Russians are to clear, bag and baggage, out of Manchuria, and Japan
has taken her place as the paramount Power in China. If Charles
Pearson were aUve, he would have a good deal to say about the Yellow
Peril. Lord Lansdowne has taken the more practical course of recognis-
ing accomplished facts, and even anticipating them. That the alliance
was the cause of the peace is too broad a statement to be accurate.
Lord Lansdowne would not have made one a condition of the other.
Tet, when so much is put down to the President of the United States,
Englishmen may be pardoned for reflecting that nations are more apt
to consult their allies than mere strangers. If the President brought
^^ t>elli|;er^QtB together, it may well be that the British Government
M M 2
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616 fHE NINETEENTH CENTURY Oct.
prevented the renewal of the war. An alliance on equal terms with
the first naval Power in the worid is, even in the flush of victory, a
considerable achievement for Japan. The treaty of 19Q2 was limited
and specific in scope. The treaty of 1906 is much wider and more
comprehensive. Just half a century ago the Cabinet of Lord Palmer-
ston decided to continue a war with Russia for the purpose of regu-
lating the number of Russian ships in the Black Sea. Such, at least,
was the ostensible reason for breaking off the Conference of Vienna.
The real reason was Louis Napoleon's dread of his own troops if
they came home without taking Sebastopol. HappUy the Mikado
had no such fears, and has set an example of magnanimity to Chris-
tian Sovereigns. His troops, by land and sea, have won victories
enough and to spare. His ally, though not a party to the conflict,
was able to exert a pacific influence all the stronger for being dis-
interested. The great French scholar, M. Victor B^rard, in his
popular work. The Russian Empire and the Czardom. makes a peculiarly
unfortunate prediction. 'The war over,' he says, 'Manchuria re-
covered or lost, the Dalai-Lama under the hand of the Czar will be
the best instrument of the Russo-Japanese alliance, or of the Russian
revenge, of which one can foretell, without being a great prophet,
that England will pay the cost.' Prophets, great or small, are apt to
go wrong, but they seldom go quite so wrong as that. The expedi-
tion to Thibet might be compared, for the practical advantages which
have accrued from it, with the good old Duke of York's march of
ten thousand men up the hill and down again. But the alliance of
Japan is with England, not with Russia, and it is Russia who has to
pay the bill. That the consequence predicted by M. B^rard might
have followed if there had been no treaty with England is likely
enough. That is just one of the contingencies against which states-
men guard, and Lord Lansdowne has guarded. Alliances, like hypo-
theses, are not to be multiptied. Other things being equal, perfect
freedom of action is a good thing in itself. But England has never
been able to ignore the position of Russia in the East. A Russian
invasion of Afghanistan, for instance, has for the last thirty j^ears
been recognised by both i>arties in England as necessitating immediate
war. It was the intrusion of Russia in China, and her evident deter-
mination to remain there, which led to the war concluded last month.
Common hostility to Russia is an insufficient and undesirable ground
of agreement. As Mr. Pitt said, to regard one country as the natural
enemy of another is weak and childish. But, since there are now three
great Eastern Powers, the joint action of two is the best security
for peace in the absence of complete harmony among the three.
That is not an unapproachable ideal. The most Liberal newspaper
in Russia justifies Lord Lansdowne by lamenting that its country has
lost the chance taken by England. It may well be that the British
alliance with Japan would, under quite conceivable conditions, have
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1905 THE NEW ALLIANCE 617
renewed and strengthened the understanding between France and
Russia in a manner not altogether agreeable to ourselves. But here,
again, Lord Lansdowne has provided against untoward events by the
Anglo-French Agreement. Not for many years has the Foreign
Office been guided on a consistent and intelligible plan. Lord SaUfi-
bury was an excellent Foreign Minister in his day ; but after 1895
his hold upon affairs seemed to relax, and his ignorance of South
Africa after the Raid was lamentable. The cardinal point in Lord
Salisbury's foreign policy, which dates from the Congress of Berlin
in 1878, was agreement with the Central Powers, as they are called^
Germany and Austria-Hungary. Their union, which afterwards
became the Triple Alliance, including Italy, was to him ' glad tidings
of great joy.* ' The Austrian sentinel is on the ramparts,' he said
in 1885» when Servia and Bulgaria were at war. A few years later
his object had become Germany alone, and Heligoland was given
her in consideration of the German Protectorate over 2ianzibar.
Those were the days when * spheres of influence ' were established
throughout Africa, and France was sarcastically congratulated upon
having secured in such large quantities the ' light soil ' of the Sahara.
Crermanism was at its height when the South African war broke
out, and may be said to have culminated in Mr. Chamberlain's famous
speech at Leicester six years ago, when he denounced France, inviting
her to 'mend her manners,' and declared, after an interview with
the Grerman Emperor, that we could have no quarrel with our Grerman
friends. Even Mr. Chamberlain, though in a position of greater
freedom and less responsibility, would hardly say that now. States-
men are not to be condemned for changing with the times, and Lord
Lansdowne's policy is entirely different from Lord Salisbury's. France
is at present the best friend, with the possible exception of Italy, that
England has in Europe, and by Lord Lansdowne's skilful management
all differences of opinion witii our nearest neighbour have been re-
moved. It is possible, and may be argued, that the treaty of 1902
with Japan procured the neutrality of the French Republic in the
recent war; for although the understanding between France and
Russia had by that time been considerably weakened, it was not,
ftnd perhaps is not yet, quite at an end. On the other hand, the
relations between France and Germany, never really cordial since
1870, have been ominously strained by German interference with
Morocco. That restless potentate, William the Second, annoyed by
the neglect of France to communicate with him on the subject of her
agreement with England, chose the French Protectorate of Morocco
on which to pick a quarrel, through Count Billow, with M. Delcasse.
M. Delcass6's refusal of the proposed Conference was not supported
by his colleagues, and that most able Minister resigned. M. Rouvier,
Premier with the foreign portfolio, has consented to the Grerman
proposal without thereby smoothing a dif&cult situation. In the
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618 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Oct.
Conference France is sure of BritiBh support as a return for her hand-
some conduct about Egypt and Newfoundland. One result of the war,
however, must not be forgotten. A decline in the strength of Russia
involves, if other things are equal, a corresponding addition to the
strength of Germany. One need not regard the treaty with France
as directed against the Grerman or any other Power. The pacific
influence of the King has helped his Ministers through all their
international arrangements. But the foresight which provided against
a substitution of Grerman for Russian preponderance on the Continent
cannot be too highly praised.
The alliance with Japan would have lasted without renewal till
the beginning of 1907, and could not then have been terminated by
either party without twelve months' notice to the other. The Govern-
ment had good reason to betieve that their successors, even if Liberal,
would renew the treaty. Tet all the evidence shows that Lord
Lansdowne was wise to take time by the forelock. The peace has,
not unnaturally, been ill received in Japan, where people expected
better terms than they have got, and this new treaty with England,
signed as it was before peace had been concluded, must tell on the
Ifikado's side.
A renewal of fighting on any pretext would be the greatest mis*
fortune for the world, and especially for British commerce. The
presence of Russia in China was unfavourable to foreign trade,
the Russian tarifi being viciously Protective, much like the tarifi
of the United Kingdom eighty years ago. The Japanese have
studied political economy, as well as most other things, and though
the ' open door ' is a cant phrase which may mean much or little,
Japan is enlightened enough to encourage the trade of other countries
as well as her own with China. That the prosperity of one nation
must be injurious to others is a fallacy which may be held at Bir-
mingham, but does not pass muster at Tokio or Yokohmna. The
general unrest and disturbance of Russia, though good, in the shape
of more Uberty, may come out of them, are serious evils in themselves.
It is not the least of the blessings this peace confers that the Czar and
his advisers will have leisure to deal with disorder at home in some
more intelligent way than mere repression. The blind hatred of
Russia expressed in a few English newspapers does not represent
public opinion. However uncongenial despotism may be to the
English people, they can understand that Russia has traditions,
political and religious, which unfit her for manhood sufibage and
equal electoral districts. Protestants can respect, if they do not
understand, the feelings of CathoUcs for the Pope, and the Emperor
of ' Holy Russia ' is a spiritual as well as a temporal chief. Count
Tolstoi, in those eloquent, imaginative, strangely moving letters which
look like messages from another world in the colunms of the Times^
gives no hope for Russia, or for any other country, except the destruo-
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1905 THE NEW ALLIANCE 619
tion of all public auUiority and all private property whatever.
M. Witte, though not a man of genius, is a more practical person ;
and if he can regain the confidence of the Czar some solid reforms may
ensue. It is not desirable that the Russian Empire should become
a derelict Power, or that people should go about asking what the
Bussian Government means. Nothing can be more foolish than
for Englishmen to exult over the troubles of Russia. There are
Bussian armies in Turkestan, and if they got out of hand there might
be serious trouble. The highest military authorities in India believed
last winter that the conclusion of peace between Russia and Japan
would be a critical moment for the north-west frcmtier. That is a
consideration which may well have been in Lord Lansdowne's mind,
and in Mr. Balfour's, when the Japanese Alliance was renewed. The
Prime Minister is an amateur strategist, as well as an amateur econo*
mist, and he told the House of Commons that he regarded this spot
y& the vulnerable point of the British Empire. Afghanistan is, of
course, the buffer. But the Indian (Government is understood not to
have the same confidence in the present Amir as it had in Abdur
Rahman. Perhaps the fault is not altogether with the Amir. The
Afghans are an isolated people, very jealous of their independence.
Lord DufEerin, after his historic consultation with Abdur Rahman
in 1885, agreed to supply him with arms and money, and to protect
him against invasion, which could of course only be Russian, if he
submitted his foreign policy to British control. Lord Dufferin never
contemplated, any more than Lord Ripon before him, the slightest
interference between the Amir and his subjects, or with the disposition
he chose to make of his own defensive forces. Lord Curzon was
not equally punctilious, and it is said that his inspection of A^han
fortifications provoked native jealousy, if not alarm.
There are also different reasons why the situation should be very
carefully considered just now. The second part of Lord Curzon's
Viceroyalty has not been quite so prosperous as the first. Nothing
could well have been more mischievous than the full publication,
for which the Secretary of State is responsible, of the sharp and
vehement controversy between the Viceroy and the Commander-in-
Chief. The partition of Bengal, whether expedient in itself or not,
has excited a good deal of discontent among the vocal class of Euro-
peanised Bengalis. These, however, are comparative trifles. The
striking and repeated successes of Japan over Russia, of a wholly
Eastern over a partly Western Power, must have an effect upon the
native races of India. On the one hand, Russia is the traditionary
rival of England in the East. But, on the other, it had become an
article of belief that in the long run, if there were an appeal to force,
the East must give way to the West. It is peculiarly fortunate that
in such circumstances the paramount Power should appear as .the
open and declared ally of the victorious Japanese. Even the British
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620 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Oct.
Army, if we may trust Lord Roberts, shows signs of succumbing to
the successive reforms of Mr. St. John Brodrick and Mr. Amold-
Forster, magii fo/rium quam simiiium. Recruiting for the long
service, which an Indian army requires, has not been encouraged by
the schemes and efforts of the Minister who regards his political
opponents as the enemies of England. When Lord Rosebery was
in office, he set himself, with excellent reason, to promote a friendly
understanding with Russia. But since those days Japan has become
a new factor in the Eastern problem, and it is Lord Lansdowne's
sovereign merit to have taken prompt advantage of it for the benefit
of his own country. No Foreign Secretary has ever more carefully
abstained firom the use of irritating language, and from the aggressive,
inconsiderate behaviour which goes by the name of jingoism. Listead
of talking, he has acted. To lead the House of Lords is perhaps not
quite in his line, except so far as suavity of demeanour constitutes
leadership. But in the Foreign Office, which is a more important
place, he has earned the gratitude of the whole country. Lord Salis-
bury was as prudent there as he was reckless everywhere else.
Prudence, however, is not the whole duty of Foreign Secretaries.
It is also essential that they should look ahead, and not be taken by
surprise, as Lord Qranville was in 1870, and Lord Salisbury in 1899.
The key of India, said Lord Beaconsfield, is not in Kandahar, nor in
Herat, but in London. He meant that the British Cabinet must
alwajrs be primarily responsible for the defence of the north-west
frontier. Lord Lansdowne has been Governor-Oeneral of India him-
self, and understands the necessities of the case. So many silly
people have raised the Russian scare without reason or knowledge
that it has come to be treated as a mere bogey. But the death of
Abdur Rahman did really change the situation for the worse, and
involve a fresh review of it. He was a strong and an unscrupulous
chieftain, who kept faith with the Indian Qovemment, and made
himself obeyed by his subjects without the slightest hesitation in
the means he employed. His successor is not equally strong on the
throne, and the hand of this Amir may at any time be forced by
rebeUion. It is therefore necessary that India should be in the last
resort defensible as though Afghanistan did not exist, and Russia
were conterminous with the dominions of the British Grown.
The imfortunate riots at Tokio have occurred at an inconvenient
time. Serious and destructive as the revolution in the Caucasus has
been, and is, nothing which happens in Russia can now excite sur-
prise. But Jai>an has behaved since the commencement of the war in
so exemplary a manner that the demoUtion of Christian churches in the
capital comes as a shock. Christianity is the religion of England,
as well as of Russia, and the Japanese have seldom disgraced them-
selves, as the Russian Government often has, by religious persecution.
The gravest objection to the terms of peace from the Japanese point of
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1906 THE NEW ALLIANCE 621
view is that they provide no security against a renewal of the war. It is
therefore much to be regretted that the articles of the new treaty with
England could not have been immediately and officially published. For
one of their most valuable qualities is the guarantee they furnish for the
maintenance of the present position. It was Russian interference with
China which provoked the Japanese ultimatum, and to prevent a re-
petition of the horrors which ensued should be the highest object of
diplomacy. Qreat Britain and Japan, acting together, can ensure that
end as no other Powers could. If the position of Christians in Japan
were really threatened, the alliance would be strained, and for that
reason, if for no other, the Government of the Mikado may be trusted to
guard against such a catastrophe. Critics of the original treaty were in
the habit of asking what it did for this country. The advantages
derived from it by Japan, they said, were obvious. But a treaty
should be mutual, and where did we come in ? One answer, of course,
is that, as things have turned out, we have gained the friendship of
the rising Power in the East. But the new treaty is a better answer
still. That which was limited has become general, and a pacific
alliance has secured to the p€tssive ally some share in the fruits of
victory. It is not difficult to understand the feelings of the discon-
tented Japanese. Their army and their navy have been the admira-
tion of the world. Their achievements by land and sea are unsur-
passed. As the result of all this heroism, with its accompan3dng
loss of life, they see the defeated adversary almost dictating her own
terms. They will not even be indemnified for any part of the taxation
which the expenses of the war entail. The best answer to their
natural complaints is that they have a solid safeguard against a
recurrence of the struggle in the support of a navy superior even to
their own. Help, in the ordinary sense, they do not want. They can
give a good account of their enemies. Although their national resources
have been strained, and their losses have been heavy, yet in Manchuria
alone they have gained ample opportunities for developing their energies
by material enterprise. Thecaseof Russia is very different. That vast,
muddy, turbulent sea called the Russian Empire is stirred to its depths.
Its waters cast up mire and dirt. Whether the Czar falls into good
hands and grants a reasonable amount of reform, or falls into bad
hands and refuses it, no one can depend for years to come upon the
stabiUty of the Russian Government. It is therefore the more essential
that England, as an Eastern Power, should have an ally upon whom
she can reckon in all emergencies. Trouble with Russia has seldom
come from deliberate policy on her part. The source of the mischief
has usually been the independent and unauthorised act of some
Russian commander in Central Asia. If these things happened, as
they did, when the controlling power at Petersburg was comparatively
strong, the danger is obviously increased by the weakening of all
authority which results from the course of the war. The accounts
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528 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Oct.
from the Caucaerafi show that there is nothing to restrain revcdt in
the more distant provinces of the Empire, and that strengtJi there
belongs to numbers alone. The maintenance of autocracy demands an
infallible and impr^nable autocrat. If Holy Russia can be beaten
by the infidel, what becomes of the Great White Czar ! While Count
Tolstoi serenely q>eculates on the irrational character of all force,
the oil-workers of Baku bum the mills and throw the manager into
the fire. Worse disturbances than these can be put down so long as
the army remains fadthful to the Government. But how long that
will be nobody can say. The unpopularity of the war had begun to
make conscription ahnost impossible when the Conference at Ports-
mouth was arranged. It is possible that peace may bring contrat-
ment, and even a Conservative reaction is on the cards. But every
country which has an interest in Eastern afEairs is bound in pmdenoe
to act on the assumption that anything may happen in Russia.
The Emperor of Russia is able to boast that he refused to pay an
indemnity, and that no indemnity has been paid. Even the half of
Sakhalin which he surrenders has been claimed by Japan for the last
fifty years. Japan's real gains are in Korea and Manchuria. The
Manchurian railway is worth a good many Sakhalins, and not tiie
least satisfactory ccmsequence of the peace is the encouragement it
will give to trade. It cannot be said that England only cultivated
the friendship of Japan after Japan had become the rising Power of
the East. Not only Lord Lansdowne in 19Q2, but Lord Rosebery in
1894, showed the Mikado's Government a sympathy and goodwill
which had a solid as well as a sentimental value. It was time tiiat
Great Britain should receive on her part some advantage from the
mutual understanding. The war with China, not the war with Russia,
was the decisive moment, and this new alliance would have been
quite impossible if England had joined the great Powers of the Con-
tinent in putting pressure upon Japan ten years ago. The attempt
to prop up China failed, and the rising of the Boxers followed. Japan
then acted with Europe, thus falsifying the theory of the Yellow Peril.
She has since prevented Russia from taking to herself the spoils of
the Chinese Empire as that structure fell to pieces. A less vigilant
diplomacy than Lord Lansdowne's might have allowed a Russo-
Japanese alliance to be substituted for the Anglo-Japanese one,
and in that case the Indian frontier might again have become a
subject of anxious concern. A country which bad government has
reduced to civil war, and which ,has suffered ruinous defeats both
by land and by sea, may not seem particularly formidable. But
revolution may lead to military dictatorship, and a military dictator-
ship must fight or perish. The spreading anarchy of the Russian
Empire is a misfortune to the World, and nothing can be more f odish
than to rejoice in it. Wisdom, however, perceives the necessity of
taking precautions against the forces which anarchy lets loose. Who,
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1905 THE NEW ALLIANCE
where, and what is the Russian Government at the present time ?
It may be the will of the Czar at Peterhof . It may be some ambitious
general, whose troops would follow him whither he chose to lead.
It may prove to reside in the new representative authority contem-
plated by Count Lamsdorf . It may be (stranger things have happened)
Father Gapon. Japan, in spite of riots at Tokio, is under settled
administration, and subject to the law. The discipline, even more
than the valour, of the Japanese troops accounts for the series of
viotories which they won in eighteen months, without a miscalculation
or a check. Patriotism and religion have been so often at variance
that a country whose religion is patriotism has an obvious advantage.
The great example set by the Mikado and his advisers in concluding
peace on comparatively unfavourable terms rather than fight for money
or prestige enhances the value of Japan as an ally. ' England,' said
Joseph Cowen thirty years ago, ^ has no earth-hunger, no longing for
Land.' The subsequent course of history has not altogether supported
that view. But it is certain that this alliance has no aggressive or
offensive object. Even Thibet was not annexed to British India when
a British force was at Lhasa. It was Russia, not Japan, who inter-
vened in Manchuria. British and Japanese policy in the East is defen-
sive and pacific. It is to resist encroachments, not to make them.
The old Liberal objection to European alliances was that they involved
entanglement in European politics, and sacrificed British interests to
designs with which the people of these islands had no concern. That
the safety of India is a British interest nobody can deny. There is,
of course, no danger of Japan taking Russia's place as a centre of
Asiatic disturbance. But as a rival Power to Russia, and a triumphant
rival, she becomes a force in Asiatic politics which cannot be ignored.
An alliance between Japan and Russia would have been a source of
anxiety to the Indian Government. The treaty which Lord Lans-
downe has concluded is therefore the more valuable as a guarantee.
England and France in Europe, England and Japan in Asia, are a
combination which ought to ensure peace.
Herbert Paul.
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684 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Oct
THE GERMAN DANGER TO SOUTH AFRICA
DuRiNQ about two years the Qermans have, at enormous expense
in lives and treasure, been fighting the natives in their South- West
African colony, and not only has no appreciable progress tpwards the
pacification of the country been made, but the tribes in the Qennui
East African colony also have lately risen in revolt against their
masters. As will be shown later on, there seems to be some organic
connection between the two risings.
Qermany's struggles in Africa are viewed with unmixed satisfaction
by the Grerman Social Democrats, and by many of (Germany's neigh-
bours. To thoughtful Englishmen, however, the disturbed state of
Germany's African colonies must be a matter of the most serious
concern, for it might have consequences to the whole of South Africa
which nobody in this country can contemplate with equanimity.
The rising in South- West Africa is incalculably dangerous to this
counlary, and the restoration of peace at the earliest date concerns
Great Britain even more than it does Germany.
The fact that there are only about four thousand white settlers
in (German South Africa, whilst about nine hundred thousand white
people live in the British South African Colonies, shows that the
problem of South- West Africa is of far greater importance to Great
Britain than to Germany, and that the interest of Great Britain in
peace in South Africa may therefore be said to be more than twenty
times greater than is that of Germany. Consequently, it seems
necessary to consider the present position of (German South- West
Africa in all its bearings, and to see what can be done and what must
at once be done by this country in order to prevent the revolt of the
natives in the German colonies spreading to British territory. It
may, of course, be a difficult matter to re-establish peace in South
Africa without hurting Germany's susceptibilities. Still, peace in
South Africa is of such paramount importance to the British Empire
that we have to do our duty by South Africa even at the risk of
touching Grermany's pride.
In order to be able to gauge the South- West African problem, we
must cast a short glance at the history of that colony. In the seven-
ties numerous Germans settled in Namaqualand and Damaraland,
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1906 THE OEBMAN DANGER TO SOUTH AFBICA 626
and as both in South- West Africa and in Oermany an agitation
arose for making South-West Africa a German colony, the far-sighted
Sir Bartle Frere, who at the time was Qovemor at the Cape, strongly
recommended to the Home Gk>yemment that the whole of the South-
West African coast-line up to the borders of the Portuguese posses-
sions should be taken under British protection in order to prevent
it falling into Qerman hands. The British Qovemment, thinking it
unlikely that Germany contemplated becoming a colonial Power, did
not act upon Sir Bartle's advice. In the early eighties Lord Gran-
ville was asked by the German Ambassador whether the British
Government laid any claim to what is to-day German South-West
Africa. As an evasive reply was given, Germany resolved to profit
by the hesitation shown by the British Government, and somewhat
unexpectedly notified us that the South-West coast of Africa, from
the twenty-sixth degree to Gape Frio, had been placed xmder the
protection of Germany. Encouraged by the vacillation and hesita-
tion of a Gladstone Administration, Germany took, in 1884, her first
step towards becoming a colonial Power, and in the ensuing year
she rapidly extended her colonial empire.
At present the German colonies extend over no less than 2,597,180
square kilometres, an area almost five times larger than is that of the
German Empire. Nine-tenths of Germany's colonial area are situated
in Africa, and the coloured population of Germany's African colonies
is distributed over them as follows :
People
German East Africa 6,000,000
Cameroon 8,500,000
Togo 2,000,000
German Souih-West Africa 200,000
Total 11^,000
The foregoing figures show that the South-West African colony
contains only one-sixtieth of the African natives who live under
German rule. If we now look at the map, we find that each of the
four German colonies in Africa adjoins a very important British
colony. German East Africa lies between Northern Rhodesia and
Uganda, Cameroon is the neighbour of British Nigeria, Togo adjoins
Ashantee, and German South-West Africa touches Rhodesia, Bechuana-
land and Cape Colony. Therefore it follows that, if the South-West
Africa revolt should spread to the other (German colonies in Africa,
the very existence of all our most valuable African possessions would
be endangered.
Although South-West Africa contains only a small number of
natives, it has, during more than a decade, caused much trouble to
Germany. In 1893 and 1894 Germany was at war with the Hottentots
under Hendrik Witboi ; in 1896 the Ehauas Hottentots and Hereros
revolted; during 1897 and 1898 Germany fought the Zwartbooi
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626 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Oct.
Hottentots ; in 1903 the Bondelzwarts rose ; and at last in 1904 took
place a frightful rising of the Hereros, who devastated the colony,
muidered the German settlers by the hundred, and who still are
unvanquished. Unfortunately, there is no reason for hope that Qer*
many will soon be able to master the rebellious natives. On the con-
trary, the best-informed Qerman officials and ofBcers who have recently
returned from South- West Africa are of opinion that the war may
continue for years, and the Colonial Office in Beriin seems to share
that view.
Oermany herself has caused the present rebeUion by the short-
sightedness of her policy and by the incapacity and the harshness of
her colonial officials. Imagining to found colonies, she created purely
military settlements in various quarters of the world, and she ad-
ministered and exploited the lands she occupied, not as if they were
Qerman property, but as if she was in an enemy's country. The
purely military character of (Germany's African colcmies may be seen
from the following table, which has never before been publidied :
Inhabitants of Gbbmant's Afbican Goloniss
Togo
Cameroon %
German East Aficica .
German Sonth-West Africa
Total
Non-Germans .
Total Germans .
avil^opoUtloii IfladoDMleiaiidMMSB
49 267
408 1,878
510 8,050
? _?_
967 4,695
244
728
From the foregoing figures it appears that in those of the Qerman
African colonies for which detailed figures can be given there
are to every white bona-fide settler, irrespective of nationaUty, five
sddiers and officials, for the missionaries and nurses in the G^erman
colonies may be classed among the officials, whilst there are almost
seven soldiers and officials to every inhabitant of German nationality.
If a similar state of affairs prevailed in the British cidonies we shoidd
have to maintain an army of several million men in South Africa
alone.
The large army of soldiers and officials in the German colonies
has to be fed, clothed, housed, and paid, and, as the average cdonist
cannot afford to maintain from five to seven soldiers and officials
for his personal protection, the G^erman Government has to defray the
cost of these military settlements. In time of peace the colonies
cost the German Exchequer on an average considerably more than
1,000,0001 per annum. The German Government pays, tiierefore,
more than 4001. per annum for the protection of each of her 2,500 bona-
fide colonists who live in all the German colonies. The foregoing
figures are exclusive of Germany's expenditure in her Chinese sphere.
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1906 THE OEBMAN DANGER TO SOUTH AFBICA 527
but if we indade her expenses in Shantung in her colonial budget,
we find that Qeimany spends upon her colonies 2,000,0002. per annum,
or 8002. for every bona-fide (German settler.
In the absence of bona^fide settlers, the German colonies in Africa
produce little that is suitable for export ; therefore Germany's trade
with her colonies consists chiefly in the imports which are required
for feeding, clothing, and housing the soldiers and officials, and
the few bofuhfide traders are chiefly occupied in catering for the
soldiers. Hence the imports into the German colonies in Africa are
perpetually more than twice as large as are the exports, notwith-
standing Germany's strenuous efforts at increasing the export trade
of her colonies.
The numerous German officials and soldiers in the colonies who,
far from Germany's effective control, live in laborious idleness and
consequent ennui, frequently fall a prey to their worst instincts, or
they busy themselves by wantonly int^ering with the civil part of
the population, or by trying to earn miUtary laurels by mab'ng un-
necessary expeditions into the interior for 'punishing' natives.
Therefore the white traders are dissatisfied with the treatment they
receive, local revolts among the blacks occur frequently, and the
wanton barbarities of men such as Leist, Wehlan, Peters, and Prince
Aienberg have become of painful and universal notoriety. The
inscmcianoe with which the German Government treats the misdeeds
of some of her official representatives may be seen from the recent
reinstatement of Mr. Peters as Imperial Conmiissioner. Only in 1897
Peters was dismissed the service because he had executed his native
servant, being suspicious that he had been too intimate with one of
Peters's native concubines ; because he had executed one of his con-
cubines, who had been kept in diains and frequentiy been whipped
by her master for having run away from him ; and because he had
declared war in the name of the Empire against a native chief whose
only crime had been that he had refused to surrender some women who
likewise had been whipped by the Imperial Commissioner, and who,
in consequence of their ill-treatment, had fled to that chief for pro-
tection. The fact that this man has been reinstated but a few weeks
ago shows the spirit in which the German colonies in Africa are
administered from Berlin.*
Not only did the German colonies in South Africa, and especially
the South-West African colony, sufter from the indiscretion and the
brutality of various individuals who abused their position and their
power, but the general policy which was pursued by official Germany
towards the natives was an incredibly short-sighted one. In South-
West Africa Germany found various tribes which were hostile to one
another. Utilising their differences, German officials conduded
' The wording of the sentence on Peters passed by the Qerman coarts may b«
foand in the Frankfurter Zeitung of Jnly 28, 1905.
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628 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Oct
treaties of friendship and protection with the various chie&, and
these treaties were at first readily signed by the unsuspecting native
potentates.
For a promised protection which, later on, only too often proved
illusory, the natives were made to part with large and valuable tracts
of their land, and year by year these treaties were amended by the
addition of new paragraphs whereby, without any tangible quid pro
quo^ further stretches of land were taken from the natives. By
these treaties continued acts of spdiation were to be legitimised in
the eyes of the German Parliament and public. One of the negotiators
of such a treaty UAd me that he felt heartily ashamed of himself
when, with the threat of compulsion, he had to ' persuade ' an old
chief to sign his lands away, and that he felt all the time that the
old man, notwithstanding his constant silence, clearly saw through
the outrageous injustice and the meanness of the demands which were
made upon him in the guise of a treaty of friendship and protection.
Finding out that they had not an adequate military force for pre-
venting inter-tribal fighting, the Germans distributed arms to those
tribes which applied for protection, but afterwards the delivery of
these weapons was demanded, and this demand was naturally re-
sisted, or at least resented, as a breach of faith. Thus, by their
unending demands for land, miscalled treaties of protection, which
cost the natives their land but failed to give them protection, by
occasional ill-treatment, by what the natives considered to be breaches
of fadth, and by the official toleration of trading usurers who robbed
the natives of their cattle, th^r most precious possession, a state of
acute dissatisfaction was created, which grew from year to year.
However, the constantly increasing danger was either not seen or was
disregarded by the Government, which fancied that the natives could
safely, bit by bit, be stripped of all their possessions.
Autumn 1903 brought on the present crisis. The Bondelzwarts,
a tribe of only 2,500 people, revolted ; and whilst part of the G(erman
troops who fought them were away from their usual garrisons, the
Hereros, who number between 80,000 and 100,000 people, suddenly
rose in arms and began to plunder the German farms and to massacre
their inhabitants. This violent outbreak found the German authori-
ties perfectiy unprepared, for Prince Billow declared on the 18th of
January, 1904, in the Reichstag ; * The insurrection of the Hereros,
which, in the course of a few days, has assumed menacing proportions,
broke out without any reason of which even those who are thoroughly
acquainted with the country are aware.' How violent and destructive
this outbreak was, bom the first, may be seen from the fact that
Prince Billow added : ^ The fruits of the industry and of the per-
severance of ten years are destroyed in the regi<Mi of the insurrec-
tion.'
Thus the criminal levity with which, at the same time, the good-
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1905 THE GERMAN DANGER TO SOUTH AFRICA 529
nature and the lack of knowledge of the natives had been abused, and
the security of the white settlers had been neglected, found a sudden
and fearful revenge ; but unfortunately that revenge fell on many
innocent victims.
Colonel von Leutwein, who, since 1894, had been the governor of
the colony and the commander of the troops, and who thoroughly
knew the character of the natives and the immense natural difficid-
ties which, in fighting the natives, the (German troops would have to
overcome in a trackless, partly waterless, and very unhealthy country,
full of mountain fastnesses known to the natives but almost in-
accessible to European troops, counselled peace, and warned the Ger-
man authorities against entering upon an endless and probably fruit-
less guerilla war. However, the sensible advice of the expert on the
spot was disregarded. It was thought that the German prestige
required the complete defeat of the Hereros, and on the 11th of June,
1904, a new commander, General von Trotha, landed in Swakop-
mund and assumed the command over the (xerman troops, who by
then had been increased to more than 7,000 men.
The German soldiers, excellent as they are for fighting in Europe,
are, by their training and by their bodily constitution, completely
unfitted for colonial warfare. Not only did the German tactics prove
to be quite unsuitable for South- West Africa, but the officers found
it exceedingly difficult to convert their ponderous fighting-machine
into agile individual units suitable for the man-hunt in the rugged
mountains. Besides, the youthful, fair-haired, and fair-compleidoned
German recruits were the predestined victims to malaria and typhoid
fever, which soon enfeebled and decimated the troops. Already, in
time of peace, the mortaUty among the soldiers in South-West Africa
had been very heavy. During 1898-99, for instance, 112 per
thousand died in the colony, or had to be sent home as invalids.
During the war the mortality from various diseases rapidly increased,
and up to now the Germans have lost almost 2,000 men, a number
which, in proportion to their total strength, is appalling.
Thus weakened and dejected, the bonds of discipline rapidly
loosened, officers and men alike became weary and discouraged, and
their nerves were completely shattered by the constant strain ex-
perienced in fighting an invisible enemy. Besides, the German troops
suffered terrible privations, and it has been credibly asserted that
numerous soldiers have died of thirst and of starvation. Thus the
German troops quickly lost their military character, and became a
rabble, notwithstanding the constant stream of reinforcements which
rapidly brought their number up to 15,000, a number which certainly
shoidd have been more than sufficient to fight a tribe of 100,000
natives, with, perhaps, 20,000 fighting men, of whom only a small
percentage is properly armed.
Time after time Von Trotha tried to surround the natives. How-
VoL. LVIII— No. 344 N N
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580 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Oct.
ever, time after time, hia carefully arranged plans were foiled by the
difficulties of the country, by the weariness of the officers and men,
and by the agility and the determination of an enemy who, by con-
stant ill-usage, had been made desperate.
Finding all his science and all his troops unavailing against the
geographic and climatic difficulties of the coimtry and against his
determined opponents, General von Trotha tried, when it was too
late, to adopt the policy which his predecessor had recommended,
and endeavoured to negotiate with tiiie natives ; but as he did not
possess that personal influence upon the natives which Von Leutwein
was able to exercise, his attempts at making peace and saving the foce
of Qermany were unsuccessful. Being deprived of the former governor,
who had returned to Europe, and having besides lost in battle Colonel
Leutwein's two most experienced officers. Captain von Fran90LB and
Lieutenant Eggers, the unfortunate general became desperate, and
tried to frighten the Hereros into obedience by issuing, on the
2nd of October, 1901, a most extraordinary proclamation, which ran
as foUows :
I, the great General of the German soldiers, send this letter to the Herero
nation. The Hereros are no longer German subjects. They have murdered
Mid robbed, they have out off the ears and noses and other members of wounded
soldiers, and now they are too cowardly to fight Therefore, I say to the
people : Whosoever brings one of the chiefs as a prisoner to one of my stations
shall receive 1,000 marks, and for Samuel Maherero I will pay 5,000 marks.
The Herero nation must now leave the coimtry. If the people do it not, I will
compel them with the big gun. Within the German frontier, every Herero
with or without a rifle, with or without cattle, will be shot. I will not take
over any more women and children, but I will either drive them back to your
people or have them flred on. These are my words to the nation of the
Hereros.
The great General of the mighty Emperor,
Von Tbotha.
The foregdng proclamation — ^which is in so far a most interesting
and most important document, as it shows the spirit in which Ger-
many has administered the colony and has conducted the war against
the natives — proved as unsuccessful as did Von Trotha's strategy, and
the war of exterminaticm which, without discrimination of sex or age,
has since then apparently been waged against the whole Herero
nation has not broken the determination of the natives to resist
their unmerciful enemies to the utmost. Therefore the war is going
on, and the plight of the Grerman troops may be seen from the heavi-
ness of their losses and from the desire of the authorities to increase
the expeditionary corps in South- West Africa to 20,000 men, although
those who know the country best doubt whether the ruined, roadless,
and waterless colony can support such a host.
Not unnaturally, German Chauvinists have asserted that Germany
has been unable to suppress the Herero rising because the natives are
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1906 THE GEBMAN DANGER TO SOUTH AFRICA 681
receiying assiatance from the adjoiniiig Britiah colonies, and the
Deutsch-Sudtoest-A/rika Zeitung is alleged recently to have published
the following statement, dated the 18th of June, which, it is said,
was issued by authority of General vou Trotha ;
Of 150 Hottentots, driven by Captain Siebert in the engagement at Bissefort,
on May 10th, over the British frontier, where they were alleged to have been
disarmed and imprisoned, only seven remain in charge of the polioe. The
Bxitieh police let the rest go.
It is again confirmed that Witbois are at Lehatitu, near which place they
are being supplied with arms by British traders.
Before answering these accusations it should be mentioned that
this is not the first time that loud complaints have been raised by
the Germans that the Government of Gape Colony refuses to allow
large quantities of foodstuffs, clothing, and provisions to be passed
overland into South- West Africa for the use of the German troops,
and that the Colony likewise refuses to assist in Germany's military
operations, but sells arms and ammunition to the natives.
It is not true that the natives in German South- West Africa have
been, or are being, supplied with arms by British traders. That
assertion has repeatedly been disproved by the British Colonial
authorities, and a reliable German authority has recently stated that
the Hereros are provided with arms by a renegade (German trader*
From the German point of view it is, of course, very disagreeable
that British South Africa refuses to do Germany's business and to
assist Germany against the Hereros. The British Colonial authorities
can, however, not oblige Grermany by their assistance, because they are
mindful of the danger to which, by interfering in the struggle, they
would expose themselves. Between Capo Colony and (German Soutii
Africa there is no fixed geographical frontier, such as a river, but only
an imaginary frcmtier line. That frontier line is about 1,500 miles
lon^ Consequently, Cape Colony would require a very large army
in order to effectively close her frontier against the Hereros for (Ger-
many's benefit, or to catch them when the G^erman troops are driving
tiiem into British territory. Besides, the Hereros are closely related
to tribes residing in the adjoining British territory, and if Cape Colony
should resolve to co-operate with Germany, the friends and relatives
of the Hereros living under our protection would, very probaUy,
also revolt, and Cape Colony might find herself face to face with a
rebellion the extent of which no one can foresee. For these reasons
the German Government will have to reckon with the fact that the
CSape Colony will remain neutral, and will not be able to assist in sup-
pressing the rebeUion which, notwithstanding the excesses in which
the rebels have indulged, can hardly be called an unjustified rebellion*
After two years' incessant and merciless fighting in South- West
Africa, the news has come to hand that a rebellion has broken out
also in German East Africa, where, among 6,000,000 natives, several
M M 2
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682 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Oct.
hundred white settlers live, of whom no less than 360 are missionaries.
Less than a thousand miles separate Gterman South- West Africa
from German East Africa, and African natives have been known to
travel over much longer distances than a thousand miles. CJonse-
quently it seems by no means impossible that native emissaries or
emigrants have found their way from South- West Africa into the
Qerman East African colony, and that they have told their brethren
of their sufferings and of their continuous successes against their
taskmasters. In German East Africa also the Gtermans have made
themselves disliked, and fighting has been unpleasantly frequent
between the Germans and the natives. Unfortunately only a little
more than two thousand soldiers, of whom the vast majority are
native troops, are available, and therefore the possibiUty that, in the
absence of an adequate restraining force, the German East African
colony will follow the example of German South- West Africa seems
to be very great. It should be mentioned that the fear that the
native revolt might spread from Gterman South- West Africa to German
East Africa was discussed in authoritative circles in Germany long
before the recently reported outbreak actually took place.
The foregoing short sketch clearly shows how gravely Germany
has mismanaged her African colonies, and how seriously she has com-
promised the security of all Europeans in Africa. In consequence of
Germany's mismanagement a determined native revolt has broken
out, which, unless it is promptly suppressed, may set the whole of
South Africa in flames. Nobody can deny that the whole of South
Africa, where nearly a miUion white people have their homes under
the protection of the British Crown, is threatened with the gravest of
dangers, and British statesmen should speedily make up their minds
whether they ought to look on until the conflagration, which the
Germans have lighted, will eventually spread to the British Colonies,
or whether they will interiere in time in the interests of British lives
and of British property, and establish, if needs be, against Germany's
will, peace in Germany's African colonies.
Germany will find it exceedingly dij£cult to end the war, and
there are two ways of ending it. Gtermany may continue to fight
until the natives are beaten, but this event is not likely speedily to
come to pass, and Great Britain can hardly allow that revolt and
bloodshed in German South- West Africa should continue ctd infinUutn ;
or Gtermany may terminate the war abruptly by withdrawing from
South-West Africa, or at least from those districts which the natives
have made untenable for her. The latter solution, which appears the
simpler one, and which may recommend itself to the Grermans, would
be as undesirable for Great Britain as is the former one, inasmuch as
the natives in British South Africa might thereby be taught that
they are the masters in South Africa, and that they can expel the
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1905 THE OEBMAN DANGEB TO SOUTH AFRICA 688
white settlers from Cape Colony and the other South African colonies
as well. Therefore Great Britain could hardly passively contemplate
such a withdrawal on Germany's part.
The time of inactivity and of observation is evidently drawing to
a close, and Great Britain must now act in the defence of her menaced
interests. The revolt of the natives in German South- West Africa
is not a revolt against the whites, but it is exclusively a revolt against
German rule, and therefore it would seem in the interests of peace
for the whole of South Africa that German rule in South- West Africa
should be brought to a close. It appears that the German Parliament
is not in a temper to vote much longer enormous funds for the further
prosecution of a hopeless struggle for a valueless country, and there-
fore Germany should be ready to accept the first opportunity which
may offer for evacuating South- West Africa. Such an opportunity
might easily be created by Great Britain, and Germany should be
offered a small sum of money, say 100,0001., or some small, out-of-the-
way territorial solatium for her revolted colony, or her revolted
colonies, to which peace would probably return as soon as the turmoil
of German rule was replaced by the poa; Britannica. By such a change
all danger that the rising might spread all over the AMcan continent
would disappear.
If such an offer should be made to Germany, that Power might
conceivably refuse to part with her unfortunate colony, or colonies,
either requiring a sum which the British Government would not be
prepared to pay, or refusing to cede South- West Africa and insisting
upon continuing the war to the bitter end. In that event, a somewhat
serious situation would arise, for Great Britain might find herself
compelled to intervene in the settlement of the South- West African
problem, even if such intervention should be resented by Germany.
According to international law, intervention in the domestic affairs
of a country is jmma facie a hostile act, because it constitutes an
attack upon a country's independence, but it must be doubted whether
this rule appUes in the present instance. Also, according to inter-
national law, the first duty of a State is the duty towards itself and
towards its citizens. The first duty of a State is, therefore, self-
preservation, to which all other considerations must be subordinated.
Germany's ill-treatment of the South- West African natives undoubtedly
constitutes, not a private injury, but a pubUc wrong ; it is not only an
offence against justice and humanity, sentiments upon which different
nations and different individuals may differ, but also against public
peace, against public safety, and against public justice. Consequently,
Germany's proceeding in South- West Africa is of direct concern to all
her neighbours who are interested in public peace, public safety, and
public justice, and, naturally, most of all to the paramount Power in
South Africa.
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884 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Oct.
If a man destroys a public dam which protects my property against
being flooded by water, I need not wait until my property is actually
flooded or until the owner of the dam interferes, but I am entitled to
interfere myself and to stop the man with the requisite force from
continuing an action which eventually will do me harm. If my
neighbour desires to destroy his house, he has a perfect right to do so,
but he must not bum it, for, in doing so, he might bum also mine.
If he bums his house, either the law and pubUc authority, represented
by the fire brigade and the police, will, if necessary, possibly enter
his house and quench the fire ; but if no police and no fire brig^e are
at hand, I have to do their duty and protect myself by an interference
which, under the circumstances, is warranted. The man who thus is
interfered with will very likely resent such interference, but his expostu-
lation that he has a perfect right to destroy his property will not be
listened to by the authorities.
The maxim Expedit enim reiptMiccB ne quia iua re male tUaiur
belongs to the law of all civilised nations, and this is the maxim guided
by which the competent authority frequently and unhesitatingly
interferes with private liberty in order to protect the interests of the
community. In other words, private liberty is fully respected and
protected by the law of all civilised nations, but that liberty is lawfully
restrained when such restraint has become expedient and necessary
in the interests of the generality.
If German South-West Africa were situated on a purely German
island, Oermany would possibly be entitled to argue that interference
with the settiement of the native rebellion, which then might be con-
sidered to be a purely internal affair of Germany, was a hostile act
on the part of this country. However, nothing except an imaginary
line separates British and German territory in Africa, and the British
and German native population. Hence the position of German South-
West Africa closely resembles that which would be created if my
neighbour should bum down his house« Unfortunately here the
simile ends, for there is no international police and no international
fire brigade which may quench the fire that threatens to consume
South Africa. Of course this matter might be settied by some referee,
supposing Germany should agree to arbitration, but the great danger
is that the conflagration will have grown beyond control by the time
the case has been settled by international law. Therefore Great
Britain must take the law into her own hands and must act upon her
own responsibility, h
In view of the danger which lies in delay. Great Britain must act
as^rapidly and as energetically as is required by the threatening
position. Germany may loudly protest and declare it an intolerable
outrage that her freedom of action within her own colonies should be
impaired by a foreign Power, but then she will have to be told with
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1905 THE GEBMAN DANOEB TO SOUTH AFBICA 586
all courtesy that it is a still more intolerable outrage that the lives of
almost a million white British citizens should be endangered because
Germany chooses to mismanage a worthless colony and to ill-treat
her natives until they have risen in revolt.
The kernel of the Monroe Doctrine is contained in the words :
' We consider any attempt on their part [the European Powers] to
extend their system to any portion of this hemisphere as dangerous
to our peace and safety.' Similarly the British Empire should declare
— ^and it has, owing to Qermany's proceeding in her colonies, a perfect
right to do so — that the extension of the German colonial system to
South Africa is a danger to the peace and safety of that continent,
and to act upon that declaration. Such interference in the interest
of self-protection is by no means unknown to international law, and
a large number of precedents can easily be furnished.
If Great Britain should decide to interfere in the solution of the
South-West Africa problem, the German papers would probably
declare that Great Britain was prompted by her rapacity in acting
thus. Therefore it is necessary, before closing this paper, to cast a
searching glance at the value of South- West Africa.
During the last few years the trade of German South-West Africa
has been as follows :
Exports from S.W. Africa
1896 .
1897 .
1898 .
1899 .
1900 .
1901 .
1902 .
Total
Average per annum
Marks
1,247,000
1,247,000
916,000
1,899,000
908,000
1,242,000
2,213,000
Imports into 8.W. Africa
Harks
4,887,000
4,887,000
5,868,000
8,941,000
6,968,000
10,075,000
8,568,000
Marks. . 9,172,000
Marks. . 1,810,000
-€ . . 66,500
Marks . 50,194,000
Marks . 7,171,000
«£ . 858,550
From the foregoing figures it appears that the imports into German
South-West Africa over a number of years were, on an average, more
than five times larger than the exports from that country. There-
fore German South-West Africa is not a productive but merely a
consumptive colony in every sense of the word. However, we cannot
judge of the trade of a country merely by taking note of its extent.
We must also investigate its nature, in order to be able to gauge its
possibilities. Therefore the detailed statement of South-West Africa's
foreign trade should be carefully examined. The following is the
statement of the imports and exports, on private account, during the
year 1898-99 :
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THE NINETEENTH CENTURY
Oct.
Private Imports
Prirate Exports
] Harkg
Marks
Conserves
580,620
Guano ....
773,000
Beer .
1 862,240
' Various ....
142,784
Timber and woodware
812,408
Iron and iron wares
129,654 '
1
Coflfee .
181,200 i
i
Shoes .
150,785
Flour
224,090 ;
Rice
111,900 :
1
Spirits .
162,000 ,
Cigars and cigarettes
; 108,880 ,
Wines . . .
117,866 1
Cotton goods .
. 805,211 '
Various .
Total
. 1,071,129
Total
1
1
. 8,812,848
915,784
From the foregoing table it appears that the private imports of
1898-99 consisted chiefly of food and drink for Europeans, such as
conserves, beer, wine, cigars, &c. The value of cotton goods, which
ought to be the chief article imported for trade with the natives, was
actually a smaller item than that of bottled beer, which is almost
exclusively consumed by Europeans. On the export side of the
account we find that Grerman South- West Africa produces a little
guano, which does not even come from the colony proper, and which
soon should be exhausted, but that it produces practically nothing
else which is of saleable value. Without the guano the exports of
the colony would, in 1898-99, have been practically nil.
Now let us examine the trade returns for 1902, because that year
was an exceptionally favourable one for the trade, and especially for
the export trade, of German South- West Africa :
Priyate and Official Import!
Bice, ivheat, etc.
Wine, beer, and spirits
Tobacco, cigars, and
cigarettes .
Coffee .
Sugar
Horses and cattle
Meat, etc.
Timber .
Cement and coal
Clothing and dry goods
Boots and leather ware
Famitnre
Metal and metal goods
Explosives
Various .
Total
>rti
Priyate and Oflloial Exports
Markg
' Marks
1,088,569
Cattle
...
. 1,028,687 ,
964,284
Guano
• . .
. , 853,890 ,
Various
...
835,446 1
804,818
1
279,912
1 1
157,219
1
286,840
1
1
1,165,067
.
174,027
: 1
418,540
,
1,056,723
289,627
1 '
240,849
876,501
180,875
'
1,184,804
Total
8,567,550
. 1 2,212,973 1
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1905 THE GERMAN DANGER TO SOUTH AFRICA 587
From the foiegoing statement, which gives an account of both the
private and Governmental exports and imports, it appears that daring
a year of comparatively very good trading the character of the trade
has hardly changed. Almost the whole of the imports appear to
consist in food and clothing for European consumption, and items
such as meat, beer, wine, spirits, furniture, which are almost exclu-
sively for European use, again occupy a place of honour. Only part
of the clothing, dry goods, &c., appears to be for native trade. The
item metal and metal goods is probably connected with the Govern-
ment railway.
If we now turn to the exports, we find that the export of guano
has remained practically stationary between 1898 and 1902, whilst
the export of cattle has suddenly acquired an importance which pre-
viously it did not possess. However, that export of cattle seems to
be an anomaly, and it has probably arisen from the demand for cattle
which sprang up after the Boer War, when the British Government
bought everywhere in South Africa cattle for the repatriated Boers.
Therefore the export of cattle from South- West Africa seems to be an
exceptional event, whilst the export of guano will naturally come to
an end with the exhaustion of the deposits.
From the foregoing it would appear that, measured by its trade
and by its natural wealth and productive power, South- West Africa
would not be a desirable acquisition for the British Empire.
It is true that copper is found in the interior of South- West Africa,
but, although the existence of copper has been known for many years
past, practically nothing has hitherto been done to produce it, because
the unfavourable position of the copper deposits which occur in the
inhospitable interior of the country makes the raising of the ore so
expensive that it seems doubtful whether these deposits can commer-
cially be utilised.
The facts supplied seem to show that Germany could afford to
part with her South- West African colony without regret, and she
should be glad to find an opportunity for getting rid of it, whilst
Great Britain would accept the responsibilities which its possession
would entail rather with misgivings than with enthusiasm.
Sir Bartle Frere was one of our ablest, one of our most far-
sighted, and at the same time one of our most ill-used imperial admin-
istrators. He foresaw and foretold Great Britain's struggles in
Central Asia, but his warnings were not heeded, to our cost. He
foretold the outbreak of the Boer War at the time when the Transvaal
was in our grasp, yet Mr. Gladstone went on with his fatuous policy,
which ultimately cost the Empire 20,000 lives and 300,000,000Z.
He foresaw the trouble which the Germans would cause us in South-
West Africa if we should not take it under our protection, yet the
Home Government was too supine, or too penny-wise, to act upon his
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688 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Oct.
statesmanlike advice. Sir Bartle has died broken-hearted, but time
has vindicated him in all he did and in all he advised. Let us only
hope that his vindication with regard to tiie South-West African
problem will not be so costly to us in Uves and treasure as has been
tiie vindication of his foresight with regard to the Transvaal
0. Eltzbacheb.
Post Scriptum. — Since the foregmng was written, the Cape Argu$
has reported that considerable parties of Boers, of whom some were
members of the Johannesburg police and the late Staats Artillerie, under
Commandant Odendaal, have crossed into South-West Africa, and it
appears that the (German authorities have been enlisting these men,
who are British citizens, for the purpose of fighting with them the
South-West African natives. It is to be hoped that the facts are
not as reported, for to enlist within neutral territory, without the
consent of the neutral State, is a clear and gross violation of neutrality
towards that State. In every county, the right of levying soldiers
belongs solely to the nation and to its Sovereign. Therefore, no one
is entitied to enlist soldiers in British South Africa without the per-
mission of the British Glovemment Those who levy soldiers in a
foreign country, without being permitted to do so by the Government,
alienate its subjects and violate thereby one of the fundamental
national rights of sovereignty. For these reasons, it was the custom
in all countries to punish with the utmost severity foreign recruiters,
who were classed with spies and marauders, and inmiediately exe-
cuted.
In the present instance, the enlistment of British citizens in the
German Colonial forces, although they may ostensibly have been
engaged as non-combatants, such as drivers, would be particularly
unfortunate, because it may create the impression among the natives
that Great Britain is aiding Germany against them. Hence this
incident might do incalculable and irreparable harm, by causing
a rising in sympathy among our own natives. Therefore, it seems
necessary that the Gk>vemment should insist that those British sub-
jects who may have been engaged by the German military authorities
should immediately be dismissed.
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1905
THE RUPTURE BETWEEN NORWAY
AND SWEDEN
Thb affairs of the Scandinavian Peninsula are or should be of much
interest to the inhabitants of the British Isles. Many of us visit
Norway, in particular, for our summer holidays ; for fishing, shooting,
and to enjoy Its bracing climate and magnificent scenery. The
populations of both Norway and Sweden are akin to us in many
respects, in religion, here and there in race and common ancestry, and
also in love of freedom and of sport. So Scandinavia is our natural
happy hunting and travelling ground of the north.
But there is one striking difference between the two countries,
united until yesterday under one crown, that it is as well at once to
note. While Sweden possesses a nobility and a limited franchise, and
its Government in consequence smacks something of autocracy and
class, Norway is to all intents and purposes a fanning and peasant
democracy. There are no Norwegian nobles, and 80 per cent, of its
male population have a voice in the government of their country as
against 30 per cent, of the Swedes.
This essential difference between the two countries, a difference at
once national and political, is a factor always to be borne in mind
in considering the causes that have led to the present Scandinavian
rupture. Norwegians and Swedes, though near neighbours, and
speaking to all intents and purposes one language, are neither politi-
cally nor socially homogeneous, and their close national intercourse
may be said to be barred by a certain widespread and inherent incom-
patibility of temper.
Let us now consider how the rupture has come about. Full
justice has not always been done to Norway, and her true position
and rights are often misrepresented in the accounts of the situation
that have appeared from time to time in the English papers. It might
even be assumed from some of these accounts that Norway was merely
a discontented and ungrateful province of Sweden, that she has even
played the part of a surly and unreasonable rebel to a benignant
monarchy. Nothing could be further from the truth. This miscon-
ception probably arises from ignorance of the exact facts of Norwegian
589
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540 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Oct.
history, and particularly of the events of 1814 in their relation to
Scandinavia.
Norway, as a Kingdom, has existed for over a thousand years,
and even in the remoter ages of her history possessed a standard of
culture that few northern nations could equal, as is witnessed by the
old Norse laws and institutions, and by her ancient literature (the
Sagas).
For nearly 400 years before 1814 Norway and Denmark were united
under one crown, Christian the First, King of Denmark, being elected
King of Norway and crowned at Trondhjem in 1449. But the founda-
tion of the present trouble may be said to have been laid in 1814,
at the time of the general upheaval caused by the Napoleonic wars,
and the consequent re-arranging of the map of Europe. Denmark
took the wrong side, as it turned out, and allied herself with Napoleon
when his power was broken. Sweden, on the other hand, joined Russia,
and so, when the Allies emerged victorious from the historic struggle,
Denmark was punished by being deprived of the crown of Norway,
which, by the Treaty of Kiel in January 1814, was proposed to be
handed over to Sweden as a reward for Marshal Bemadotte's assist-
ance against his former chief. Prior to this, Bemadotte, by a strange
romance of history, had been adopted as Crown Prince of Sweden
in 1810 by the childless King Charles the Thirteenth.
But the Norwegian people had to be reckoned with ; and when
tidings came of the Treaty of Kiel these hardy Norsemen promptly
declined to be handed over to a new monarch in this cavalier fashion.
A gathering at Eidsvold was held in February 1814, and Prince
Christian Frederick, then a Norwegian Statholder, and afterwards
King of Denmark, was appointed Regent. This was followed by a
further meeting of a representative body of Norwegians, also held at
Eidsvold, on the 20th of April, when the present constitution was
drawn up, and on the 17th of May it was agreed to by all present
amid a scene of great enthusiasm. On the same day Christian
Frederick was chosen King.
After this events followed one another with some rapidity. Sweden
proceeded to assert her claims by force, and Karl Johan Bemadotte
led a Swedish army across the frontier ; but the campaign only lasted
fourteen days. After some unimportant skirmishing an armistice
was agreed to, and the Convention of Moss was held on the 14th of
August, at which the allies, England, Prussia, Russia, and Austria,
were represented. This convention abrogated the Treaty of Kiel.
Karl Johan agreed to maintain the Norwegian constitution, provided
he was chosen Eling, and the Storthing was again summoned to con-
sider the question. Christian Frederick's courage, however, failed
him, and he resigned and left Norway on the day the Storthing met.
There was now no further difficulty, and the Swedish King, Karl the
Thirteenth, was elected King of Norway by the Storthing on the
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1905 RUPTURE BETWEEN NORWAY d SWEDEN 641
4th of November, 1814. The Crown Prince came to Kristdania and
swore to observe the Norwegian Constitution, and the next year the
Rigsakt, or Act of Union, was passed by the Storthing. This Con-
stitution has been sworn to by every succeeding King of Norway
and Sweden up to the present day. It thus appears that the
Constitution (Grundlov) approved at Eidsvold on the 17th of May,
1814, is the Magna Charta of Norway, the guardian of her political
freedom, the basis of her union with Sweden, and the document to
whose terms all differences between the two countries require to be
referred.
Before touching more particularly on these terms, one interesting
point of miUtary history requires to be cleared up. Why did the
military campaign last only fourteen days ? And, it may be further
asked, is not something due to the magnanimity of Karl Johan and
the Swedish people in granting such favourable terms to an apparentiy
conquered foe who made so poor a fight ? But here again this scant
summary of events does serious injustice to Norway. Karl Johan
was an astute politician as well as an experienced soldier, and there
can be no reasonable doubt that the Convention of Moss was a mutual
compromise, and that Norway was very far from entering into it as
a conquered Province. The result was partly owing to the pressure
of the AlHed Powers, partly to Bemadotte's anxiety to settie the
matter witiiout delay on the eve of the Congress of Vienna, and largely
also to the fact that Sweden was not then fully prepared to carry
on the war and compel the Norwegians to submission by force of
arms. Karl Johan must have known full well the difficulty of a
fight to a finish in the wild and thickly wooded mountains of Norway
against so hardy and determined a foe. So he took what he could
get at the time, probably less than he wanted, much to the dis-
appointment of the Swedish governing classes. These had hoped
for a union by which Norway would have become a mere province
of Sweden. The whole circumstances of the case form, by the
way, a singular commentary on Mr. Gladstone's romantic citation
of the case of Norway and Sweden as an illustration of the blessings
of Home Rule.
We now turn again to the Constitution itself. Here is its opening
sentence : — ' The Kingdom of Norway shall be a free, independent,
indivisible and inalienable Kingdom, united with Sweden under
one Eling, its form of government shall be a limited and hereditary
Monarchy.'
Nothing can be clearer and more unequivocal than these words,
which require to be kept always in view.
Taking the Constitution as a whole, it is a most remarkable efiort
of the statesmanship of nearly 100 years ago. It has been pronounced,
on high authority, as ' the most Uberal of constitutions, one of which
any modem nation might boast.' Mr. Samuel Laing describes it as
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642 THE NINETEENTH CENTUB7 Oct
*a working model of a constitutional government^ and one which
works so well as highly to deserve the consideration of the English
people.' Under this Constitution, the same writer continues, 'the
Norwegian people enjoy a greater share of political liberty, and
have the framing and administering of their own laws more
entirely in their own hands, than any European nation of the present
time.'
When things had settied down. Earl Johan tried to regain loot
ground. Among other things he particularly wanted the power of
absolute veto, which, under the Constitution that he had accepted,
he did not possess. The sturdy patriots of the Storthing resdutely
declined to entertain his proposal, and to this day the merely susp^i-
sive royal veto remains one of the most important features of the
Constitution.
On one occasion, for example, a few years after the union was
entered into, the Norwegian Storthing passed a Bill for the abolition
of nobility, the country being too poor to mahitain an aristocracy.
Earl Johan took a different view. He looked upon this abc^tion as
a blow aimed at his power in Norway, and twice refused his sanction.
The Bill passed a third time, under the Constitution became law,
and so the people's will prevailed.
During the ensuing century and up to the present time several
further attempts have been made on the part of Sweden to give the
Eing greater power, and to bring the two countries into closer union ;
but the Norwegians have alwajrs resisted these efiorta, knowing full
well the dangers of such a course for their independence. And here,
it may be asked, who can blame them for such action, least of all we
of the Anglo-Saxon race, who have fought and bled the world over for
political freedom?
It will be seen, then, that the Eing of Norway and Sweden can
exercise his veto only twice. The Norwegian Parliament possesses
a right unkno¥m in any other monarchy. When the same BUI has
been passed by three successive Storthings, it becomes the law of the
land without the assent of the Eing (see section 79 of the Constitu-
tion). The Eing can thus delay a bill from becoming law for, say,
seven to nine years. This should serve as a sufficient check upon any
legislative assembly, while at the same time ensuring that the supreme
will of the people shall ultimately prevail.
The present Eing has on two other occasions refused his sanction
to measures passed for the second time by the Norwegian National
Assembly — namely, the Bill for the admittance of the members of
the Government to the debates of the Storthing; and the Bill for
eliminating the symbol of the Union from the Norwegian national
flag. Both these Bills on being passed for the third time became
law. The present difficulty, which has culminated in the respectful
dethronement of Eing Oscar by the Norwegians, has existed foe
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1905 EUPTUBE BETWEEN NOBWAY & SWEDEN 648
twenty-five years.. Norway wants a separate Consular Service, which
the Stockhohn Goyermnent have declined to grant. The Storthing
passed a law accordingly ; it was duly presented to King Oscar by
the Norwegian Cabinet at Stockhohn; but the royal assent was
unhesitatingly refused.
The Storthing then took a startling and unprecedented step. The
resignation of the Ministry having been tendered and declined, the
King knowing full well that it was impossible to get any one else in
Norway to carry on the Government in face of the opposition of a
united people, the National Assembly met on the historic June 7, 1906,
and, in effect, formally deposed the Eling. The concluding words
of the President of the Storthing, Herr Berner, on this momentous
occasion, are worth recording. In the midst of an impressive silence,
all standing up, the President moved the following resolution : —
* As the members of the Council of State had resigned their office,
and as His Majesty the King had declared himself unable to form
a new Government, and as the constitutional Boyal power had ceased
to be operative, that the Government which had just resigned should
be empowered to carry on and exercise the authority (which they
had formerly received from the Eang) in accordance with the con-
stitution of the Elingdom, with the necessary alterations ; that the
Union with Sweden under one King is dissolved in consequence of the
King having ceased to act as a Norwegian Eling.'
The resolution was unanimously carried. This action of the
Norwegian Storthing has been described in one British journal at
least as an ' unwarrantable provocation,' and it has doubtless amazed
and offended a large section of the Swedish people, as well as deeply
tonched the pride of King Oscar. But the foregoing brief sketch of
Scandinavian history has been penned to small purpose if it does not
show that there is another side to this question ; that another and
a very different view can be taken of the resolution of the Norwegian
Storthing. Their action is the expression, so far, at all events,
as an observer can judge, of the deUberate will of a united and
homogeneous people; evoked by ninety years of international
friction, and finally culminating in (let us hope) peaceful but deter-
mined separation.
Neither space nor inclination permits of much further comment or
speculation as to what will be the final outcome.
Norway, on the one hand, has shown great consideration for the
feelings of the King, and respect and loyalty to his person in her offer
of the Norwegian crown to some member of his family yet, if at all,
to be indicated by him. On the other hand King Oscar has displayed
much self-control and magnanimity in circumstances of unexpected
difficulty. *' It is not intended,' said his Majesty, in a moving speech
from the throne, * to repel injustice by force.'
There we will leave it> feeling certain that the good sense and
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S44 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Oet
political sagacity of oui Norihem neighbours will eventually find
some peaceful and enduring settlenient of this unhappy but appar-
ently inevitable ruptuie : a settlement, let us hope, in which neither
Oennan Kaiser nor Russian Czar will have a hand. Negotiations are
reported to be in progress ; a Norwegian plebiscite is said to be agreed
upon. The horizon already begins to dear.
Henry Seton Kaeb.
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1905
THE LIBERAL UNIONIST PARTY
[Concluded]
In a previous article in this Review ^ I examined as concisely and
precisely as I could the history of the Liberal Unionist party. I
reminded the reader that the Liberal Unionists had very reluctantly
separated themselves from the Liberal party on the question of L:eland
only, and that when taking this fateful step their leaders had repeatedly
and emphatically declared their unswerving loyalty to the Liberal
creed, and that even as regards Ireland, although rejecting Home
Rule, they had persistently and consistently advocated a generous
and conciliatory policy.
After a fevered interval, during which Mr. Balfour was engaged in
a fierce and eventually successful struggle in the cause of law and
order, that policy was gradually adopted by the Unionist Govern-
ment. Mr. Balfour himself inaugurated the remedial legislation so
vigorously pursued by his brother, Mr. Gerald Balfour, and after-
wards by Mr. George Wyndham, after a short interval of coercion,
which soothed the irritated nerves of the party of ascendency.
Mr. Wyndham's programme was not more, but, indeed, a
great deal less, than the progranmie which had been consistently
advocated by the Liberal Unionist leaders, for its only items were
the settlement of the land question and the question of higher
education, the application to Ireland of a system of private bill legis-
lation, the reorganisation of Dublin Castle, and, of course— -the first
duty of every Government— »the maintenance of law and order. In
short, there was not a single item in this programme which had not
been fully approved by the Liberal Unionist leaders. Nevertheless,
the revelation of Mr. Wjmdham's policy caused a panic in the Unionist
ranks, and the Government only saved itself from disaster by throwing
Mr. Wyndham overboard.
Several causes contributed to this amazing denouement. In the
first place, a fierce and indeed internecine battle was being fought
on the question of Free Trade. The Unionist party were engaged
in the diJBBcult operation of changing front in the face of the enemy,
> See The Nineteenth Century and After for August 1905.
Vol, LVIU— No. 344 545 O O
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646 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Oct
and they not unnaturally resented the unexpected and, as they
thought, the uncalled-for appearance on their flank of Mr. Wynd-
ham and his Irish reformers. Secondly, Mr. Wjmdham's policy had
become identified with and tainted by devolution. 'What's in
a name ? ' A very great deal in these days, when men are
more impressed by phrases than by arguments. There is no reason
why the abstract idea of devolution should inspire alarm, or have
the proverbial effect of a red rag on a bull. It is merely a relative
term-^ question of degree. It may be small and harmless ; it may
be big and dangerous. The fact is that few of those critics who so
wildly denoxmce devolution in the abstract understand what they are
talking about. Generally they are supporters of Mr. Balfour, and
therefore have approved his introduction of County Councils into
Ireland. Consequently they have approved devolution, and are
themselves devdutionist. Everything depends on the nature and
extent of the devolution proposed. If devolution is in the form of
extended powers to County Councils or of Provincial Councils, then
I for one am a devolutionist ; but if it takes the shape of a Par-
liament at Dublin, then I am not a devolutionist. The third reason
of the unpopularity of Mr. Wjmdham's policy was the mystery, if
not secrecy, which enveloped it. Mr. Wyndham was too diplomatic,
and evidently he hoped to educate his colleagues and party up to the
required standard. If he had boldly led them up to the bogey and
shown them how harmless it was, I do not believe they woidd have
shied and thrown him.
The result was the complete triumph of the Extremists. The
handful of UlBter members were, indeed, fortunate. During the
twenty years of firm government, prescribed by Lord Salisbury,
which was now coming to an end, they had been treated as a negligible
quantity. Energetic, stubborn, and conscientious men, they had not
ceased, in season and out of season, to raise their voices ; but tile
Unionist Government turned a deaf ear to their complaints, their
expostulations, and their gloomy prophedes—dnvariably falsified by
the event. With dogged determination they persisted, and now at
last the day of their triumph dawned. The Government, weak and
divided, was on the eve of a critical division, and the votes of the
seven UlBter members might possibly turn the scale. The latter
realised the advantage of their position, and mercilessly demanded
Mr. Wyndham's head. The Government yielded. Mr. Wyndham
was sacrificed, his programme was repudiated, the Prime Minister
gave assurances that the Government would not touch the burning
question of higher education, and he anathematised devolution in
terms which left the Extremists nothing to desire.
In my previous article I stated that two policies now hold the
field, the poUcy of Negation and the policy of Home Rule. But
can Home Bule pretend to hold the field ? Is Home Rule a real
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1906 THE LIBERAL UNIONIST PARTY 647
danger, or — ^if real — 10 it not so remote a danger as to be outside the
pale of practical politics ? Is it not merely a convenient bogey behind
which a desperate Glovemment hides itself, trosting for protection
to the unreasonable fears which it inspires among the timid and
ignorant ?
Home Rule is no real danger at the present day. Mr. Asquith
put the matter very clearly in 1902 when he said, * If we are honest
we must ask ourselves this practical question : Is it to be part and
parcel of the policy of our party that, if returned to power, it will intro-
duce into the House of Conmions a Bill for Irish Home Rule ? The
answer in my judgment is, ** No." ' Supposing that the new (Jovem-
ment were mad enough to waste session after session in ploughing
the sands of Home Rule, would not the rejection of their Bill by the
House of Lords be a certainty ? Is there, by the way, any similar
guarantee against protection I
Undoubtedly a Liberal Oovemment will and must be content, at
least for the present, with a middle course : that is to say, with taking
up the Irish question where it has been dropped by Mr. Wyndham, with
settling the question of higher education, extending local government,
reorganising Dublin Castle, and redressing other admitted grievances.
In these reforms they ought to have the hearty co-operation of all true
Liberal Unionists, who should gladly travel with them in the path of
conciliation so far as they can go mthout sacrifice of their principles.
But, it may be asked, how can these questions be settled ? For
instance^ how can the burning question of higher education be
arranged in a manner acceptable to both Roman Catholics and
Nonconformists ?
I doubt if many people — on this side of the Channel — appreciate
the urgency of this question, or realise the gravity of the injustice from
which Ireland suffers. But in truth the position is becoming intoler-
able, and the grievance, if unremoved, will sap and undermine the very
foundation of the Union. For if it be admitted that the Parliament
at Westminster, by reason of party divisions or any other cause,
cannot govern Ireland justly, how can the demand for Home Rule
be resisted?
But this is the situation. All will admit that the education of the
young is one of the gravest duties and responsibihties which a State
has to discharge. And no one who is acquainted with the facts of
the case can say that this duty is, or ever has been, adequately
discharged in Ireland. The whole system of education is inefiGicient,
confused, indeed chaotic. Much might be said regarding the defective
condition of primary and secondary education, but at least some-
thing is being done, and money, if wasted, is not refused. I will
therefore confine myself on this occasion to the subject of higher
education, which is indeed a crying grievance, for in that direction
Kttle— practically nothing— is being done for the Roman Catholics
o o 2
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548 TEE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Oct.
of Ireland. Why ? Because England is a Protestant country, and
her conscience, we are told, will not permit her in any way, however
indirect, to encourage or assist higher education when that higher
education is connected with the Roman Catholic religion, or when it
is in the least controlled by Roman Catholic ecclesiastics.
Fortunately for our Empire, these theories are not enforced
in other lands. If the same policy were adopted by the people of
England elsewhere, then our right as a Protestant country to govern
people of any other religion might be seriously impugned, for unless
we can govern justly and impartially we have no right to govern at
all. But this is not our policy elsewhere. Even in lands where
idolatry reigns we do not — ^we cannot — enforce this policy, and we
would not do so in Ireland if the English people thoroughly understood
the case.
My object is in a few simple words to explain the nature and
extent of the grievance, and to suggest a remedy which should
satisfy Irish Roman CathoUcs without offending the conscience
of English Nonconformists. I need not dilate on the necessity, in
these days growing ever more urgent, of university education. The
insufficiency of our Universities in number at least is generally
admitted.
If this is the case in England, where so much has been done by
private munificence and by the State, what must be the condition of
Ireland, where the Roman Catholic population is debarred from
higher education because the people are too poor to help them-
selves, and because the State practically refuses to assist any but
Protestants ?
Is this an exaggerated view of the case ? What are the facts ?
What is the existing provision for higher education ? Of the total
population of Ireland, of 4,458,775, the Roman CathoUcs numbered
in 1901 3,308,661, or 74*2 per cent., and the EpiscopaUan Protestant
population 581,089, or only 13 per cent. How many of these enjoy
the advantages of higher education ? There is Trinity College, Dublin,
and there are the three Queen's Colleges. Trinity College has an
income of 38,00W. per annum, and the cost to the State of each of the
Queen's Colleges averages about 11,0002. per annum. In addition
these colleges are well provided — Trinity College splendidly provided —
with excellent buildings and educational appliances.
Trinity College counts on the average 1,000 students on its rolls,
of whom from eighty to ninety are Roman Catholics. Queen's College,
Belfast, has 349 students, including seventeen Roman Catholics.
Queen's Colleges, Cork and Galway, have respectively 190 and ninety-
three students, of whom 118 and thirty -five are Roman Catholics.
Such is the provision made by the State for the higher education cf
a Roman CathoUc population of over three million souls.
But it will naturally be asked, Is this the fault of the State ? Trinity
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1905 THE LIBERAL UNIONIST PARTY 649
College and the Queen's Colleges are open to the Roman Catholics ;
why do they not enter ? They do not, they cannot, enter because
the religious difficulty intervenes. What is this religious difficulty ?
The religious difficulty arises out of the fact that these institutions
do not offer the safeguards for religion on which the Roman Catholic
people claim that they have a right to insist; and therefore they
have been condemned by Papal rescripts and by the pronouncements
of the Irish bishops as a peril to faith, and the youth of the country
have been forbidden to frequent them.
On this question the Royal Commission of 1903 very justly remarked
that, ' whether the bishops [and they might have added the Vatican]
were justified or not, the state of things was disastrous to the interests
of education,' and they added that ' the result of the deadlock is that
the Roman Catholics of Ireland, forming 74 per cent, of the whole
population, are, as a body, unprovided with any adequately endowed
university of which they are willing to avail themselves.'
The Roman Catholic population of Ireland are essentially a religious
people, and they will be guided by their bishops, however they may
suffer materially. We may think them foolish and mistaken ; but every
sensible man must admit — ^it is no use kicking against the pricks —
that we must accept them as they are, and make the best of a difficult
situation. Surely the fact that the Irish Roman Catholics will not
surrender their religious convictions, and indeed hopes of salvation,
to our ideas, does not relieve us of the responsibility of supplying them
with higher education, even if it were not obviously in our interest
that their ignorance should be enlightened and their prejudices dis-
persed ? Certainly it is in the imperial interests, as well as in the
interests of Ireland, that this question should be settled, even though
we may think that the bishops and the people whom they guide and
direct are unreasonable.
But are they unreasonable ? Is it unnatural that they should
object to the Roman Catholic youth being subjected to Protestant
or agnostic influences, and educated in an atmosphere charged with
hostility to their own religion ?
Liet us put ourselves in the place of the Irish Roman Catholics.
Supposing that there was but one college in Oxford or Cambridge,
and that college the training institute of the Roman priesthood.
Supposing that all the heads of the college and the leading professors,
and practically all the undergraduates, were Roman CathoUcs, would
a Protestant Englishman send his son to that college ? We know that
very few would do so, for do not the Protestant Nonconformists of
England consider it an intolerable grievance that their children should
be compelled to go to schools under the management of the Protestant
Church of England ? Again, a powerful argument in the present
controversy on this side of the Irish Channel is that where the pubUc
money is expended there ought to be public control. Why is not this
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660 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Oct.
Bound rule applicable to Ireland ? Why most Ireland be the one
spot in the whole British Empire where the religious convictions
of the vast majority of the population are to be held as of no
account?
But, it may be asked, are the existing colleges so essentially Pro-
testant ? We may put aside Queen's Colleges, Cork and Gktlway, as
negligible quantities, for in spite of the zealous service of the able and
sometimes eminent men who have served as principals, professors, &o.»
educationally they are failures, and the hurge expenditure of State
funds upon them is difficult to defend. The students of these two
colleges number less than three hundred, yet they cost the State over
22,0001. per annum. Notwithstanding this large expenditure and
their excellent buildings, Ubraries, and laboratories, they have ^ed
to produce any educational results at all proportional to their cost.
How can this expenditure be justified ? Not on political grounds, for
these colleges are repudiated by the Roman CathoUc population
for whose benefit they were established and endowed ; and certainly
not for educational reasons. Therefore there are sohd grounds for
the contention that these colleges, being a failure, should be
disendowed and disestablished, or at least reduced to the statas
of high schools, and that the money which is being expended
upon them should be utilised for the purpose of university edu-
cation in Dublin and Belfast, where alone there is scope for such
institutions.
There remain, therefore, only Trinity College, Dublin, and Queen*8
College, Belfast. Is the objection of the Roman Catholic bishops
to these institutions unreasonable ? Surely not, if they are essentially
Protestant. In that case is it not reasonable that Roman CathoUcs
should object to their sons being subjected to influences so hostile to
their religion ?
But can Trinity College and Queen's College, Belfast, be fairly
described as essentially Protestant ? Let us first consider the case
of Trinity College. Trinity College has always been, and I confess
to the hope that it will always be, a Protestant institution. It was
founded by Queen EUzabeth for the purpose of promoting educa-
tion in Ireland on the principles of the Protestant religion, and
faithfully has it discharged its trust. It is to-day as Protestant
as it was only a dozen years ago, when Professor Mahaffy wrote in
this Review that ' the present government and policy of the College
(Trinity), though secular and admitting all persons to its honours,
is distinctly Protestant,' or when, about the same time, Judge
Webb, at a meeting of Trinity College Historical Society, declared
that their university was founded by Protestants' for Protestants,
and in the Protestant interest. A Protestant spirit had from the
first animated every member of its body corporate. At the present
moment, with all its toleration, all its liberality, all its comprehenave-
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1906 THE LIBEBAL UNIONIST PABTY 661
ness and all its scrapuloiis honour, the genius lod, the guardian spirit
of the place, was Protestant. And as a Protestant he said, and said
it boldly, Protestant might it evermore remain.
Lord Justice Fitzgibbon, one of the ablest and most hberal-minded
men who have ever sat on the Irish Bench, impressed on the audience
that Judge Webb had told them truly that the university in which
they stood was founded by a Protestant, for Protestants, and in the
Protestant interest. And it is surely worthy of the attention of
reflecting Englishmen of all creeds, who desire that Irish Catholics
should live contented under British rule, that this same eminent
Protestant lawyer, in his evidence before the Royal University
Commission in 1902, advocated, as the only satisfactory solution of
the Irish University question, a settlement which would grant to Irish
CathoUcs perfect equality of conditions with those enjoyed at present
by Irish Protestants.
Attempts have been made, and are still being made, to induce
jRoman Catholics to enter Trinity College, and thus to prove that
their grievance has no real foundation. But note the composition of
the governing body. To-day, as in all its past history, the supreme
governing body, consisting of the provost and the seven senior fellows,
is entirely Protestant. Four of the eight are Protestant clergymen,
and all hold office for life. Among the junior fellows there is one
Roman Catholic, but it has been calculated that, * according to the
average, he will have to wait nearly forty years before becoming a
senior fellow and having a place on the governing body.' This body
has also supreme control over the Divinity School of the Church of
Ireland, and consequently Trinity College is not only Protestant,
but Episcopalian, and Presbyterians are almost, if not quite, as
reluctant as Roman Catholics to enter the university. Of 4,200
parliamentary electors of the university, 2,600 are Protestant
clergymen.
This is the state of things, and few true friends of Trinity
College wish to change it; and therefore the Roman Catholics
are justified in doubting the sincerity of the plans which the
governing body devises and encourages for attracting Roman
CathoUcs within its walls. On this point I would quote from
the speech made by Mr. Balfour in the House of Commons on
the 13th of April last :
Does my hon. friend on this side of the House, and those who agree with him
on the other side, wish to turn Trinity College into an institution in which the
majority of the professors and students should be Boman Catholics ? I have
never concealed my view that I should regard such a result with the utmost
dismay. Trinity College has been by character and inception— actuaUy by law
and by statute for the greater part of its history, but since 1878 by character and
inception— a Protestant institution. Many Boman Catholics, I am glad to
think, have gained by its teaching ; but the flavour, the atmosphere, as my hon.
friend has called it, of the institution is, and always has been, Protestant. Is
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there any ProteBtant in this House who sincerely wishes that to he changed ?
And if no Protestant wishes it to he changed, what is the only inference ? The
only inference is either that they are prepared serenely to say that Koman
Catholics are to have no higher education, or they are prepared to have
some other institution in which higher education can be given to Roman
Oatholics,
Is it any wonder that the Boman Catholics doubt the sincerity
of the concessions ? No ; Trinity College is Protestant to the core,
and generations will pass away before it can change its character.
It is an institution of which Ireland, and, indeed, the Empire, have
reason to be proud. May it be long before the axe is laid to the
roots of this grand old tree.
And what about Queen's College, Belfast ? Trinity College is
Protestant and Episcopalian. Queen's College, Belfast, is Protestant
and Presbyterian. Between the two institutions there is little
sympathy and no relationship, and Queen's College finds no place in
the University of Dublin. Queen's College, Belfast — I take the
figures of the Boyal Commission of 1903 — has 349 students, of whom
302 came from the north. Of these 349 only seventeen are Roman
Catholics. There is not, and never has been, a single Roman Catholic
professor in the faculty of arts. And the reason why Queen's College,
Belfast, is so flourishing an institution is simply this — because from
the start it has been, from the religious point of view, in harmony
with its environments — because Protestants can send their sons there
without fear that their faith will be sapped by hostile influences.
Let the English people realise this fact, and let them understand that
education in Ireland must be denominational — that there is no such
thing, and for generations can be no such thing, as undenominational
education. All schools are more or less denominational, and the
State does not refuse its assistance. Otherwise there can be no
education whatever in Ireland. This theory is accepted and acted
upon in respect to primary and secondary education. It is denied
in the case of higher education only. However we may lament
it, the fact remains that * not all the water in the rough, rude sea '
of argument and expostulation will wash away this ineradicable
prejudice.
Thus it is that the Roman CathoUcs of Ireland, comprising three-
fourths of its population, are excluded from the benefits of higher
education. The consequences are evil and dangerous. The Royal
Commissioners of 1903 reported that
the evils arising from the want of a higher education, tnJy academic and at the
same time acceptable to the majority of the Irish people, are fEir-reaching, and
penetrate the whole social and administrative system. The Boman Catholic
clergy are cnt off from university training. School teachers, too, have no suffi-
cient motive to graduate. No university provision is made for the training either
of primary or secondary teachers.
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1906 THE LIBERAL UNIONIST PABTY 553
Very forcibly did Father Findlay state the case when he pointed
out that in three years a generation of young men pass through a
university, in sixty years twenty generations, and then asked what
would be the condition of Ireland to-day, educational, commercial,
industrial, and what would be the efficiency of her press, the standing
of her public men, the general tone and level of her public opinion,
if the last twenty generations of her ablest children had been trained
to think and act with fully developed powers.
And it was truly pointed out by Mr. Haldane during the recent
debate in the House of C!ommons that the present system has produced
a concentration of the higher education in the persons of the priests
— ^f or the priest is often the only educated man in the village — ^and
that, although it is most important to induce the Roman Catholics
as well as the Protestants to take their part in the administrative
work of the country, yet they are shut out from competing for those
positions. In this way, he added, *we have produced in Ireland
an amount of discontent among the young men such as was with-
out parallel in any part of the kingdom. This was one great
grievance.'
A very great grievance indeed — a grievance which creates
a yawning gulf between the governed and the governor. Nearly
all the well-paid appointments in Ireland are filled by Protestants,
not because of the bigotry and prejudices of the Government,
but because Chief Secretary after Chief Secretary has in vain tried
to find qualified candidates among the Roman Catholics. For
this dearth the policy of the shut door in higher education is
responsible.
Have the Roman Catholics done nothing for themselves in this
matter ? They have. They have made great and, so far as they
went, not unsuccessful efforts in the direction of self-help. Of these
efforts University College, Dublin, is the monument. Fifty years
ago the Roman Catholics of Ireland undertook to found a university,
and after expending a quturter of a million, raised by subscription,
they were obliged to abandon the attempt; but from the ashes of
this Catholic university there arose the existing University College,
which, under the direction of its accomplished president. Father
Delany, of the Jesuit Order, is doing very valuable work. With
scanty resources, a mean habitation, no library, an unpaid staff,
and no funds for scholarships, it nevertheless competes most suc-
cessfully with the well-endowed and thoroughly equipped Queen's
Colleges.
Before the establishment of the Royal University in 1882 that
college was entirely supported by the voluntary contributions of the
Roman Catholics. Since that time, however. University College,
though not recognised by the State, and receiving no aid from the
public exchequer, receives an indirect endowment from the Senate
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of the Rojral University. That body, out of its income of 20,0001. a
year derived from the Irish Ghnroh Fnnd, pays a yearly salary of
4002. each to fifteen of its fellows for the doable duty attached to
their fellowship of acting as examiners in the Royal University
and of teaching at University College, or in all about 6,0001. per
annum.
The existence of this endowment and its conditions were formally
laid before Parliament in 1883, and again in 1885, and neither then
nor mnce has it ever been called in question. For more than twenty
years, with the full knowledge^ of successive administrations, whether
Liberal or Conservative, this indirect endowment has been granted to
University College, open, no doubt, to students of all religions, but
controlled by Roman Catholics. It is too late, therefore, now to
resist the claim for further endowment on the plea of principle.
When the grant was made the alleged principle was given away,
and the question of further endowment is now simply one of
degree.
Such is the situation, and all will agree that, whatever the cause,
it is an unfortunate and dangerous situation, and that the condition
of higher education in Ireland, so far as the Roman Catholics are con-
cerned, constitutes a scandal which should be quickly ended. How
is this to be done ? Several ways of meeting the difficulty have
been proposed. Trinity College, with its proud history and great
traditions, must not be touched, and therefore two schemes now hold
the field. First, Mr. Balfour's proposal to abolish the Royal Um' veraity,
and to establish in its place two universities, one in Belfast and the
other in Dublin, each undenominational, but still breathing an atncio-
sphere congenial to the religious convictions of the mass of its students ;
and, secondly, the scheme of the Royal Commission — ^namely, a re-
constituted Royal University, with Belfast College additionally
endowed, and a college for Roman Catholics, liberally endowed and
equipped, both colleges to be identically constituted as regards
religious tests, to be largely autonomous in their educational
work, but subject to the supervision of the senate of the imiver-
sity for the maintenance of a suitable standard of university
education.
Unionists might indeed congratulate themselves if either scheme
were adopted, but in the present state of public feeling these reasonable
proposals are counsels of perfection which have no chance of accept-
ance. True it is that our leading statesmen on both sides would
gladly adopt either plan, and thus redress a grievance which has
become a festering sore in the body politic of Ireland, poisoning its
blood and eating away the loyalty of its people. But, alas ! our
statesmen are helpless, for their followers will not allow them to have
the courage of their convictions.
Mr. Balfour can do nothing. The party of ascendency is too
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1905 THE LIBERAL UNIONIST PABT7 666
strongly entrenched in his Cabinet, and another ministerial secession,
however unimportant in itself, could not be endured, even if a
weakened Government were not dependent for its existence on the
votes of the Ulster members. Nor is there any hope that the question
will fare much better at the hands of a Liberal Government, even
with Mr. Haldane a leading member, for its Nonconformist and
Presbyterian supporters have rooted conscientious objection to any
concession which would tend to the * augmentation of clerical
influence.' *A formidable — I fear an insurmountable — obstacle to
the rendering of justice is,* said Mr. Balfour, *the belief — ^and
as I think the unfortunate belief — ^which prevails in this country,
that this is simply a manoeuvre on the part of the Irish bishops to
obtain control of Irish higher education.' Is this belief mistaken,
unjust ? If so, can it not be dissipated ?
Justice has not been done to the patriotism of the Irish bishops in
this matter. No doubt they would like, and at one time they may
have hoped, to control higher education, but if so they have abandoned
any such pretension as impossible.
Father Delany has pointed out that so long as tests were main-
tained in the University of Dublin and Trinity College, making them
strictly Protestant and denominational the bishops claimed a purely
Roman Catholic University, but now that tests have been abolished
they have reduced their demand, and only ask that there should be
given to the Roman Catholics a teaching university without tests,
but so constituted as to be as satisfactory to Roman Catholics as
Trinity College, Dublin, still remains to Protestants. In short, they
simply ask for equality of treatment.
Is there a way out of this impasse ? Cannot any compromise be
devised on which there could be based a settlement which would be
acceptable to the Roman Catholics without offending the conscience
of our Nonconformist and Presbyterian friends in England and Scot-
land ?
In my opinion a settlement can be effected on the following
lines :
There now exists the Royal University of Ireland — merely an ex-
amining body. The Royal Commission have condemned it and declared
that its existence, as an examining university only, seriously lowers the
ideal of university education. But, however it cimibereth the ground,
we cannot cut it down, for there would be such a babel of confusion
over the disposal of the wreckage that confusion would be worse con-
founded. It is obviously our policy to find the line of least resistance,
therefore let us not lay hands on the Royal University. For the same
reason I do not propose, for the present at least, to end — I fear it
is impossible to mend — ^the Queen's Colleges of Cork and Galway.
The material which has to be shaped and fashioned is to be found
in Queen's College, Belfast, and University College, Dublin, both
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656 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Oct.
flourishing and Buccessfiil institutionB, although cribbed, cabined, and
confined by * the eternal want of pence.'
Queen's College, Belfast, now receives about 11,0002. a year from
public funds, and its buildings, &c., are maintained by the State.
The Ulster members loudly and justly demand increased provision
in accordance with the views of the Royal Commission, which recom-
mended that * a liberal addition be made to the general endowments
of the college,' and that the college buildings be considerably en-
larged. Let this be done, and let the same justice be meted out to
University Coll^. Let the present subsidy of 6,0002. to the latter
be increased in the same way and on the same grounds — ^that is to
say, on purely educational grounds — as the concession which is made
to Queen's College, Belfast. Let its buildings also be enlarged to the
necessary extent, or, if this is impossible, let suitable aoconmiodation
be erected on another site.
To enable this to be done, no legislation is necessary ; all that is
required is that the funds at the disposal of the Royal University
should be adequately increased, and that the distribution be left to
the senate — which is composed of an equal number of Protestants
and Roman Catholics — ^to be made on educational grounds only,
and without reference to religious considerations.
Where is the money to come from ? A great part might be saved
out of the infructuous expenditure on the Queen's Colleges of Cork
and Galway, but it might be thought fair to grant those institutions
a locus jHsniiefUicB — to allot them a certain number of years within
which to mend or end. And surely the Lish development fund could
not be devoted to a better purpose than the advancement of higher
education ?
Will the Nonconformists of England and the Presbjrterians of
Scotland allow this compromise to be carried into effect ? They are
not asked to agree to the establishment or endowment of a Roman
Catholic college, but merely to allow the subsidy already given to the
two existing colleges, Protestant and Roman Catholic, to be increased
so as to enable them efficiently to discharge their educational duties.
The education on which the money will be expended will be secular
education, for it must be a condition that none of it will be used for
reUgious instruction ; that there are no tests ; and that the coll^;e
will be governed by a body on which laymen will preponderate,
and, with its endowments, will be open to all, whatever their
creed.
The Irish bishops will no doubt agree to these conditions in order
to gain for their co-religionists the higher education which has been
denied to them, while it has been lavished on the Protestants of
Ireland. Will the Nonconformists of England and the Presbyterians
of Scotland refuse to render this long-deferred justice and to redress
a crying grievance — ^to remove a scandal which thirty years ago was
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1905 THE LIBEBAL UNIONIST PABTY 657
denounced by Mr. Gladstone, which Lord-Lieutenant after Lord-
Lieutenant and Chief Secretary after Chief Secretary have deplored,
and which has enUsted the earnest sympathy of men of such
conflicting views as Mr. Balfour and Mr. Haldane? If England
cannot govern Lreland justly, the death knell of the Union has
surely struck.
These are no empty words. I emphatically believe in the truth
of the warning given to me some eighteen years ago by Monsignor
Persico, when that astute statesman was deputed by the Pope to. report
on the state of Lreland— ^namely, that the lasting peace and content
of Lreland depend more on the satisfactory settlement of this than of
any other question. Let Unionists carefully digest the remarkable
words of Lord John Russell, uttered, it is true, some forty years ago,
but which are just as pertinent to-day :
If we say that saoh are oar religions prinoiples, that we defy these demands
for justice, then will come more fiercely than ever those demands for the
Kepeal of the Union which we all deplore. Either we will say that we will
carry out the compact (of the Union) in the spirit which was declared at the
time, and that we will fulfil the compact, not only to the letter, bnt with all
that kindness and all that affectionate regard, and all that conciliation which
Ireland should have from England : or we most say * that our religions opinions
will not allow us to act with justice and equity towards Ireland,* and then we
must renounce the connection and the compact, and we must give them back
their Legislature to enable them to decide for themselves as they think best. . . .
I own that I consider this a dilemma from which you cannot escape. ... If
you will maintain the Union, you must convince the Boman Catholic people of
Ireland that you will treat them as you treat the Protestant people of England.
— *• Hansard," vol. 79, p. 1,011.
I have shown that this very di£Glcult question can be settled. The
other pending Irish questions are more simple, and can be dealt with
by a conciliatory Government without danger to the Union. In short,
there is much good and needful work to be done by a Liberal
Government without touching Home Rule— »work in which they are
entitled to the co-operation of all Liberal Unionists who remain true
to the policy of their party.
But will the Nationalist party reject the boons thus offered ? I
think not. That attitude was attempted in 1892 when Mr. Balfour
introduced his Land Bill, but the Irish people would not tolerate so
suicidal a policy, and it was abandoned. I think that both Mr.
Redmond and Mr. Blake have very fairly explained their policy ;
Mr. Redmond, when deaUng with the intention, erroneously imputed
to Mr. Gerald Balfour, of killing Home Rule by kindness, and Mr.
Blake as recently as the 21st of February last.
It is evident from these utterances that the Nationalist party will
accept any concessions which are not destructive of the object which
they have in view— ^namely, a parliament in DubUn, with an executive
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658 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Oct.
government reBponsible to that parliament. They would prefer to
reach the smnmit of their desire per stiUum, but if that is impossible
they will accept concessions which they think—erroneously, I believe
—they can use as rungs in the ladder which is to lead them to th^
final triumph.
Finally, I return to the question, What are the Unionist Free
Traders to do ? My contention that the Liberal Unionist party has
been broken up and dispersed, and that it has become merged into
the Tory party, has been questioned and disputed, but is it not true ?
How do the Tariff Reformers differ from the Tories ? On what single
question are they at issue ? Take the list of the Liberal Unionist
Tariff Reformers. Compare them, man for man, with the most Tory
of the Tories, and try to distinguish between the two. If there is a
difference between their political opinions, what is it ? The Liberal
Unionists may continue to maintain a separate organisation, to wear
the uniform, fly the flag, and occasionally beat the big drum of the old
party— 'they may dine together to celebrate the triumphs of the past,
but their day is over, and they have no future as an independent
party.
We, the Unionist Free Traders, are the only survivors of the party
which saved the Union. What, then, are we to do ? What course
are we to steer ? What leader are we to follow ?
We are few in number ; we cannot lead an independent existence.
If we are to live and work, we must join one or other of the great
poUtical parties, now that our own party has been broken up. The
Liberal party is sound on the great question of the day— >the question
of Free Trade. It is round the flag of Free Trade that the momentous
battle IB to be fought, unless, indeed, Mr. Balfour and his followers
retire from what they must now realise to be an untenable position,
and leave Mr. Chamberlain and his stalwarts to their fate. The coming
conference may furnish them with an excuse. If —as is highly probable
—the Colonial delegates refuse to meet our Tariff Reformers half-
way, will not Mr. Balfour be justified in abandoning Mr. Chamberlain
and his policy 1 Might not the manoeuvre be justified out of Mr.
Chamberlain's own mouth ? But such tactics would not satisfy
Unionist Free Traders. They can never again trust Mr. Balfour on
this vital question.
There are few questions of domestic politics on which a Uniomst
Free Trader need be at serious issue with the Liberal party. Home
Rule is no longer an obstacle in the path of re-union. The Education
question could be settled by compromise ; indeed— ^paradoxical as it
may seem— »I believe that a satisfactory settlement could be effected
by, say, Lord Hugh Cecil and Mr. Lloyd-George in half an hour.
There need be no difiSiculty regarding manj other items of the
Liberal programme, which would, I suppose, include the housing
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1906 THE LIBERAL UNIONIST PABTY 659
question, the drink question, the enfoicement of economy, the
evolving of a real army out of the chaos which Mr. Amold-Foister
has created, and, it is to be hoped, the reform of the House of
Lords.
We are told— ^and the fallacy has so often been repeated that
many may accept it as gospel— >that Lord Lansdowne is the only
statesman who can safely and efficiently control and direct the relations
of this Empire with foreign Powers. In spite of the gloomy pro-
phecies of the almost unanimous Unionist Press when he succeeded
Lord Salisbury, Lord Lansdowne has proved to be an excellent,
indeed in some respect an ideal. Foreign Secretary. Yet he has made
mistakes. The Venezuela blunder and the costly useless hunt of
the Mad Mullah may be forgiven, but those of us who know Morocco
must lament the surrender of that rich country, which might have
become the granary of the United Kingdom. The understanding
with France is a great, and, if enduring, will be an inestimable bless-
ing ; but future generations, when they find the open door of commerce
with Morocco shut in their faces, the Mediterranean practically a
French lake, and the western ports of Morocco, which conmiand our
alternative route to Lidia, fortified and occupied by France, may be
inclined to ask whether a more skilful diplomacy might not have
purchased the same benefit at a smaller price.
Lord Lansdowne is not indispensable. The seals of the Foreign
Office would be at least as safe in the hands of a Bosebery or a Grey.
Why, to take a case in point, should not our relations with Japan be
as sympathetically managed by the Minister who was the first to
place them on their present footing, by the Minister who refused to
join the combination of European Powers which robbed Japan of the
fruits of her victory over China 1 Let it be remembered that it was
not a Liberal Foreign Secretary who allowed Kussia to seize Port
Arthur.
Japan and every other foreign Power knows that the present
Government is under sentence of death, and that the agony cannot
be much longer prolonged. They know that it has lost the confidence
of the country. How can such a Government, why should such a
Government, speak with authority in the council-chambers of the
political world ?
The question is not whether the present Government is to
remain in power after the next General Election. Evidently the
country has made up its mind on that point, and every day that the
Government clings to office in defiance of the people that resolve
grows more uncompromising. We are certain to have a Liberal
Government. The only doubt is whether that Government will be
strong enough to be independent. Surely all moderate men, what-
ever their pob'tics, will agree that, in the interests of the Empire, it is
essential that the next Government should be a strong, independent
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660 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Oct.
Government, clearly knowing what it wants, frankly saying what it
means, and fearlessly doing what it beUeves to be right. Is it not the
duty of Unionist Free Traders to help in accomplishing this object,
and is it not time that they should abandon their present attitude
of armed neutrality, and boldly join their natural allies in the ccuning
battle ?
West Kidgbway.
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1905
A MUNICIPAL CONCERT HALL
FOR LONDON
The demolition of St. James's Hall has left a gap in the musical and
artistic, as well as in the poUtical and social, world of London, greater
and uglier than is represented by the big ugly hole in the block of
buildings between Regent Circus and Piccadilly — ^which for several
days, when all the rest had become a shapeless ruin, was spanned
by the great internal arch that had for generations looked down
upon those who were assembled there.
For many a year past St. James's Hall has been associated with
music of the highest order, exquisitely rendered by the most cultivated
of musicians on the most perfect of instruments, including the most
perfect of all, the human voice.
For fashionable London its position was excellent, and unfashion-
able London used it occasionally, and Uked it well enough. It held
an audience somewhat too numerous to allow of all who were present
to hear perfectly every kind of music, vocal and instrumental. And,
on political occasions, when the body of the hall and the galleries
from end to end were packed, it was rare to find a speaker who
could make his voice penetrate to the upper gallery. But if the
echoes of St. James's Hall could be awakened, it would not only be
the music, but the sounds of almost every crisis in recent political
history and of every great event in the social Ufe of England that
would reverberate among themi
The gap has been made and none of the existing concert halls
can fill it. They are deficient in one o more of the essentials of
position, size, or acoustic quaUties. Central London is now urgently
in need of a permanent pubUc concert hall — ' pubUc ' as differing
from the venture of some private company run for the purpose of
dividends or of advertisement ; ' pubUc ' also, in the sense of being
under the control of a public authority, managed for the enjoyment,
interest, and advantage of the whole community.
There are many thousands of those who Uve the lives of the poorer
or poorest Londoners whom good music can touch, influence, encourage,
and inspire as nothing else in this world can. And by enjoyment of
Vol. LVIU - No. 344 561 P P
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662 THE NINETEENTH GENTUBY Oct.
music they are as little likely to be pauperised as they would be by a
full enjoyment of their rightful heritage of sun and air, of which the
smoky atmosphere of London allows them only a mere fraction under
existing conditions. Grood music is a good and perfect gift. It
blesses those who give and those who take. It longs for nothing
more than a free expression of its own beauty. . No one gives, and
in the giving gets, more perfect sympathy than a good musician.
There is no one who, with such absolute certainty as a good musician,
can touch, and even create, the deepest, purest, and best emotions
that rule the hearts of men and women of all classes, faiths, and races.
There is a cathoUcity about music that knows absolutely no dis-
tinction between man and man, class and class, creed and creed,
nation and nation. It is, par excellence, the heaUng art for every
sad and sorry soul. There is no art in which the highest intellectual
gifts can be more perfectly blended with deepest emotion. In the
joy of music all sorts and conditions of men, women, and children
can have their share. And the marvel is that whatever perfection
the science and workmanship of modem times may put into our
instruments, every atom of it is required to render adequately the
conceptions of great musical composers — ^prophets in their own art—
who wrote at a time when such technical perfection was absolutely
unknown or thought of.
London, unique in the masses of its population, in the depths
of its poverty, and the magnificence of its wealth, is also almost unique
among the cities of Europe in omitting to provide a permanent home
for either music or the drama, or for both, such as nearly every large
town in England and in Europe generally has, for generations past,
made an essential part of its municipal existence. A list has been
prepared of some fifty continental towns, with populations ranging
from the million one hundred thousand of Vienna to the thirty-two
thousand of Coblentz, in every one of which land and buildings for
music and the drama, or fo: both in combination, have been provided
out of pubUc funds to meet the requirements of a pubUc whose enjoy-
ment and education in art have been cultivated and increased by an
expenditure which has added enormously to the intellectual assets
of the community. A central concert hall, if it is to be fit for a per-
manent home of music in London, should be planned to be as acous-
tically perfect as possible, whether for a full orchestra and chorus,
or for the voice of a single speaker. Ventilation, lighting, warming,
and the general equipment of the building should all be carefully
arranged. It is generally found economical, as well as conv^ent,
to have a larger and a smaller hall under the same roof. In the
dignity of its architectural proportions, and by the harmonious beauty
of colouring and of design in internal decoration, the building must
be made worthy of the purposes for which it is intended.
In 1898 a proposal was made to establish a permanent National
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1906 MUNICIPAL CONOEBT HALL FOR LONDON 668
Opera Honse in London, and a petition was presented to the London
County Council on this subject, signed by one hundred and forty
of the recognised leaders in the world of music and of art. Such a
universal expression of pubUc opinion by those who had the power
to form it, and the right to represent it, had probably never been
known before. The opening statement in the petition was that in
London, ' the richest capital in the world, there exists no means
whereby the highest class of operatic music can be systeclatically
brought within the reach of the great mass of the people.' The
petition goes on to show how, in England, musical education is re-
stricted, young artists discouraged, and the development of native
art hindered by the lack of those opportunities which are freely offered
in all the larger towns of Europe, and, it might be added, in many of
the smaller ones also.
Among those who gave evidence on behalf of a permanent opera
house in London, and emphasised strongly the educational influence
of music, was Sir Hubert Parry, Director of the Royal College of Music,
who described the EngUsh as a highly musical people, but as not
having the opportunities that exist abroad for hearing the best music.
Another witness was Mr. W. H. Cummings, Principal of the Guildhall
School of Music, which had then (1898) been established nineteen
years, and had 3,600 students, about 900 of whom were intending
to enter the musical profession as orchestral players, singers, and
composers. Dr. Theodor Loewe, Director of Municipal Theatres at
Breslau, sent in a written memorandum comparing the musical and
dramatic faciUties given abroad with those in England, and showing
how audiences in London were Umited by the costhness of the per-
formances. He called attention to the large number of well-trained
and highly gifted English musicians who go abroad to enjoy
opportunities they cannot get in their own country. The petition
so influentially signed received careful consideration by the General
Purposes Committee of the London County Council, who in their
report said that while ' we are not able to advise the Council to take
any step towards estabUshing a permanent opera house at the expense
of the ratepayers until the general public shall have acquired a greater
interest in the question, we are of opinion that the encouragement
of the higher forms of musical art is greatly needed in London, and,
if accorded wisely, either by the State or by the Municipality, it would
be attended with very beneficial results to the whole community.'
They go on to say that ' not only is the British nation a music-loving
nation, but the masses of the people are becoming more and more
appreciative of what is generally known as good music' Towards
the end of the report the following clause is inserted :
In addition to the question of a permanent opera house as the nucleus of
musical education, there is undoubtedly great need for some extension through-
out Iiondon of facilities for hearing and studying high- class music,
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664 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Oct.
and reference is made to what has abeady been done in this way
by some of the London polytechnics. The report concludes with four
recommendations, of which the second reads as follows :
That whilst unable to take action in the erection or subsidy of a permanent
opera bouse, the Council is prepared to consider proposals for reserving a site in
connection with one of its central improvements for the purpose of its being used
for the encouragement of operatic music.
This recommendation was adopted and approved by the London
County Council. The present proposal is not for an opera house,
but for a concert hall, a proposal involving far less expenditure
both for establishment and for maintenance than is necessary for
the larger undertaking. But so closely aUied are the sister arts of
music and the drama, that nearly all the arguments used for a per-
manent home for them both in combination are available for the
establishment of a home for one of them, if the time does not
appear ripe, nor public opinion sufficiently formed, to warrant the
inauguration of the larger scheme. Whatever may be the expansion
of musical education in England in the future, at present only a small
fraction of those who enjoy good concerts can appreciate the opera.
And not only does a concert hall appeal to a wider and more varied
public than an opera house, but, in England at all events, the opera
has been associated with expenditure on so lavish a scale that it has
alwajm been the rich man's luxury, from which the poor have been
practically excluded. The chief argument for the institution and
maintenance of a central concert hall by those who represent London
is that music of the best kind may be brought within reach of the poorer
classes, whose enjoyment of it is far keener than most people would
imagine.
It is safe to prophesy that the chief objection to any scheme
of this kind, by which local public funds or public credit are to be
used, will be a financial one. It will be said that the expense of
providing education for the children out of pubUc funds is great
enough without giving them and their parents their amusements free.
If it is the right of those who pay to call the tune, it must be the
duty of those who call the tune to pay. There are at least two answers
to this argument. One is that music is and has long since been
officially recognised as something very different from an amusement
It is an important part of our national education. In November, 1893
at the request of the London Technical Education Board, the Com
mittee of Council on Education, under section 8 of the Technical
Instruction Act, 1889, sanctioned instruction in music — ^including
singing and musical notation, and instrumental and orchestral music,
as a subject of technical instruction required by the circumstances
of the London district. And the increase of musical teaching in
evening schools and polytechnics during recent years is very remark-
able. In 1898-99 there were only 118 evening schools in which music
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1905 MUNICIPAL CONCERT HALL FOB LONDON 505
was taken, with 2,578 pupils, leoeiYiiig 14 hours' instruction or over.
In 1902-03 there were 235 evening schools, with 6,515 pupils. Kecent
figures on this subject are not for the moment available, but it is
known that all along the line a very considerable increase has taken
place.
In a memorandum drawn up in 1898 by Dr. Garnett, Secretary
to the late Technical Education Board for London, figures were
quoted showing the musical instruction given in various London
polytechnics. The class entries in the Regent Street Polytechnic alone
for 1897-98 amounted to 384, distributed over 1,884 individual
students. The students' fees amounted to 1,4651. 17«. 5d., the
teachers' salaries to 1,1042. 13«. Among the individual entries were
the following :
Individual Teaching
Pianoforte 487
Theory of music 21
VioHn 263
Solo singing 292
MandoUn and guitar 389
Choral and Orchestral Training
Boys' choir 120
Select choir 50
Orchestral band 58
It is not pretended that all London polytechnics are on the same
musical level as that in Regent Street, but, from many others, figures
may be quoted to show that music is not regarded as a mere amuse-
ment, and, more than this, that the students themselves are ready to
contribute largely out of their own pockets towards the expense of
their musical training. Last (and with an apology for not having been
put first), there are the institutions that turn out annually the largest
number of finished players and singers, the Royal Academy of Music
and the Royal College of Music, towards the endowment of which
big sums have been subscribed by the public ; and there is also the
Guildhall School of Music, besides many others it is impossible even
to name in a short article on a long subject.
The success, indeed the very Uf e, of such institutions depends upon
the good work done by students being encouraged and stimulated by
sympathetic opportunity being offered when the student has ripened
into an expert. Sympathetic opportunity, of which the smallest
but most necessary part is that the musician worthy of his hire shall
get it, the larger part being the reward of giving to others of the fruits
of the work he has done, and of the inspiration he has been
given. Moreover, when our financial critic is abroad, he should
face and answer the following argument. Nothing could be devised
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666 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Oct.
financially more extravagant, or educationallj and artistically more
disastrous, than a system by which thousands of young London
students are trained in music partly by the help of local public funds,
and partly by the help of money privately provided by themselvee,
who, when they come to an age and to a degree of musical attainment
when they might be expected to give back to the London public
something in return for what they have received in musical education,
are driven from London by the absence of inducements and facilities
which are offered them in many provincial towns in England as well
as in all continental towns of any importance. It is a very short-
sighted and pennywise form of economy that maintains a system by
which the cost of the raw material and of much of the labour expended
on it is thrown upon London, while the use and advantage of the
manufactured article is largely enjoyed elsewhere by those who have
not contributed a penny towards tiie process of manufacture. And
what does the financial risk, which will probably be made to loom
so big, really amount to ? In his evidence before the Qeneral Purposes
Committee of the London County Council, Sir Alexander Mackenzie
said that the grant necessary for the maintenance of a municipal
opera house for London ^ would represent something less than one-
tenth of a penny in the £ on the rateable value of London.' Mr.
D'Oyly Carte, one of the greatest authorities on such a subject,
estimated the cost of putting up a suitable building, properly fitted,
furnished, and equipped, at from 130,000{. to 150,0001., and the cost
of the site at 50,000?., 200,000?. covering the whole. Considering
what an opera house and its essential surroundings imply, it would
probably be safe to halve the expense in an estimate for a concert
hall, and, if Sir Alexander Mackenzie's figures are correct — ^figures
which have not been questioned — ^Uus would mean that the upkeep
of a concert hall for London would come to something less than the
twentieth part of a penny in the £ on the rateable value of
London.^
Among those who have strongly supported the scheme for a new
London concert hall is Sir Charles ViUiers Stanford. He advocates
it as one of the very best means of encouraging the art of music, and
he refers to * the poHcy which has prevailed in most of the larger
provincial towns, where the municipalities have provided free concert
rooms as part of their buildings, which have been largely utilised for
musical performances.' He especially instances Yorkshire, where ' the
provision of such halls as can be found in Leeds, Bradford, Hudders-
field, Halifax, Sheffield, &c., has been a chief factor in making
Yorkshire choral societies renowned all over the world.' He considers
that a large annual income would be derived from letting a public
concert hall in London for music and for other purposes, provided
that it had good acoustical properties, was comfortably seated, and
* A penny rate over the County of London prodnces about 173,0001.
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1906 MUNICIPAL CONGEST HALL FOB LONDON 667
was not of exoessive size. In provincial towns a large income is
often made from public halls. The Liverpool Town Council derive
an annual revenue of about 2fi00l. from St. George's Hall. In
1903, at Glasgow, the gross revenue derived from the City Hall
was 2,1041. and the net revenue 6322. From the St. Andrew's
Halls at Glasgow in the same year the gross revenue was nearly
4,000i.f the net revenue being 1,8212. The average revenue from
the St. George's Hall at Bradford is about 1,8002. If large sums
are made in this way in provincial towns, the infinitely greater
population of London will probably be ready to contribute in
proportion to its size. In Leeds a very interesting and successful
experiment has been made by the Corporation in the form of a series
of municipal concerts in the winter months, conducted by the city
organist, Mr. Fricker, in the town hall, the prices for admission ranging
from one penny to one shilling. The first intention was to have
merely organ recitals, but this was expanded by the spontaneous
energy of Mr. Fricker into orchestral concerts, where good classical
music has been given of an educational character, and the attendance
in the sixpenny and penny seats has been exceptionally good, the
shilling seats being oidy sparsely filled. The audiences are remark-
ably attentive, and listen eagerly even to symphonic music.
It will be said, and with perfect truth, that one central concert
haU would be utterly inadequate for the requirements of London ; that
twenty or thirty of them would be wanted to wake up the music of
six millions of people ; in fact, that this proposal is but the thin end
of the wedge ; to all of which the reply to be made is that every one
who loves music for its own sake, and beheves in it as one of the most
wholesome and regenerating influences, must devoutly hope that this
is but the thin end of a big wedge. If this central concert hall is
enthusiastically welcomed by Londoners; if it is recognised as an
essential part of the hfe of our city, and as adding largely to the
joy of living there, then the money difficulty will disappear as a
morning mist before the sun, and men will wonder, as one after
another our concert halls come into being, that the money risk was
ever regarded as a serious obstacle by those who care for London.
As it is, the London County Council does provide music for the people
during the summer months in the parks and open spaces. No money
can be better spent ; but why, in the name of common sense, are we
to stop the music at the end of summer, just at the time of year when,
of all others, it is most needed, and when the long dark evenings
offer the best opportunity for practices, rehearsals, and performances,
and when anything that is inspiring and beautiful is specially wanted
to dispel the gloom of the sombre approach of winter ?
Imagine the chorus of indignation if the music of the well-to-do
were at any time of the year interfered with, either in their own homes
or in concert halls; the music which is one of the many luxuries
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568 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Oct.
rendered possible for the leisured class mainly by the labour of those
who have little leisure and no luxuries.
The financial objection, when closely examined, resolves itself
into an assertion that London cannot afford itself the experiment
of a good permanent central concert hall, such as is enjoyed in scores
of provincial and continental towns, and which, if it succeed, will be
the pioneer of others in London's many centres ; and that the ratepayers
of London ought not to be asked to risk a minute fraction of a penny
in the £ for this object : to * risk ' is the right word, not to * pay,'
because, if properly placed, well-built, and prudently managed, such
a central hall ought to be self-supporting, and might easily, by being
let fqr other as well as musical performances, bring in a considerable
income, while giving full opportunity for cheap, good music to those
who can afford to spend Uttle to get it. The risk to the ratepayer is
then reduced to the unlikely possibility of having to contribute a
minute fraction of a penny in the £ towards procuring for the
masses of the people the opportunity of enjoying one of the highest
pleasures that men can have, the perfect gift of good music.
In regard to the cost of building and of maintenance, when once
the central hall of music has been successfully started, and local pubUc
opinion demands its repetition elsewhere, in many parts of London
it will be the adaptation and use of existing buildings, not, as in this
case, the construction of new ones, that will be required.
To set up a high standard of music among the six miUions of men,
women, and children of all the various nationaUties which contribute
to the making of London — ^the one gospel which they can all accept
— this means not only the raising of the musical ideal in concert
rooms and music halls, but also a large increase in musical experts
for our cathedrals, churches, and chapels.
It will act as a great encouragement to ' private enterprise ' in its
true sense, for it will be an influence gaining a welcome and sym-
pathetic entrance into thousands of homes where the germs of good
music already exist, gradually making the caricature and degradation
of music unpopular and ultimately impossible. And ' private enter-
prise' in the money-making sense — ^to which, by some critics, the
phrase is often unfairly restricted — will gain by a larger supply of
more highly skilled performers whom the wealth of London can always
afford to pay well.
If proof is wanted of the influence that national musical festivals
may have on a whole people, widely scattered in country districts,
there is the annual Welsh Eisteddfod, for which preparations are
made and of which the memory remains in thousands of homes of
that singularly emotional and poetic race.
It should not be forgotten that the sister arts of painting and
literature are richly endowed out of public funds. There are our
great national Ubraries, and year by year local pubUc libraries are
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1905 MUNICIPAL CONOEBT HALL FOB LONDON 669
multiplying, not only in towns but in country villages, many of them
being supplemented by private munificence in gifts of books as well as
of money.
In the same way large sums of public money are spent on picture
galleries, at the head of them the National Gallery ; and, of late years,
in hundreds of elementary schools pubUc money has been excellently
well spent on pictures, many of them reproductions of the greatest
works of art in existence. And in Whitechapel, the very heart of one
of the poorest parts of London, school-rooms during holiday time
have been turned into picture galleries, filled by crowds of working
people, who eagerly take advantage of seeing hung upon the walls,
lent by their owners, some of the greatest works of art which enrich
the world.
A country's civilisation depends not at all on the richest people
in it being able to purchase for their 0¥m enjoyment the sights and
sounds created by the genius of painters and sculptors, of poets and
musicians, but it does largely depend on the opportunity being given,
and taken, for art in its highest forms, by entering into the life of the
masses of the people, to ennoble and purify it. And if there is one
place more than any other where this influence is wanted it is in the
midst of London, where only a distant echo of the poetry, the music,
and the drama of country life, and of the beauty of its sights and
sounds, can ever find an entrance.
Fbedbbiok Vbbnbt.
Note. — In the year 1900 a return was sent in to the London County
Cooncil from about fifteen polytechnics, colleges, and institutes, with a view to
information being given as to the provision then existing in London for the
teaching of music. Tables showing approximately the hours of musical study
per week were sent in from educational institutions all over London. The
Birkbeck Institution headed the list with fifty-five hours per week, followed by
the Regent Street Polytechnic with twenty-seven hours, and by the South-
western Polytechnic with eighteen hours, besides other private and extra
lessons not definitely stated.
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670 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Oct.
T/fE TRUE FOUNDATIONS OF EMPIRE:
THE HOME AND THE WORKSHOP
The question of phjrsical deterioration, and the disquieting statistics
which are coming to Ught in connection with it, must inevitably
direct public attention with greater energy than heretofore to some
of the national considerations connected with industrial life. Physique
is a matter of capital importance as regards the status of any nation,
and as such demands careful consideration from the State. It is
regulated in the main by two fundamental factors, the home and
the workshop. If it be admitted that true social progress lies in the
uprooting of evils, not the cutting down of their surface manifesta-
tions, then it is difficult to avoid the conclusion that the aim of all
social reform Ues in the establishment of conditions which render self-
respecting family life possible. Free meals for hungry children is a
much-debated question at the present moment, but it is highly doubtful
whether such meals, plastered by the State, so to speak, upon the
shaky foundations of an unsatisfactory home, will prove a satisfactory
panacea for our social evils. We have to strike at the conditions
which in the first place produce hungry children, and at the root of
the mischief too often we find degraded conditions of labour, creating
in turn a degraded home. It is to the home and the workshop, there-
fore, that our attention must be directed if we would judge so(»al
phenomena from a comprehensive and serviceable point of view.
The industrial revolution of the nineteenth century, like all other
great changes, was a compound of good and bad. The upheaval
caused by the introduction of steam has proved so vast and so far-
reaching, that in some respects social phenomena themselves have
had a tendency during the last fifty years to get out of hand, and to
outstrip all efforts to overtake them. But the recognition that steam
and electricity have imposed upon us certain conditions of industry
against which it is useless to struggle in no way implies a lethargic
and helpless acceptance of many evils at present coimected with the
manufacturing system. On the contrary, the more fully we realise
the issues at stake, the more we shall labour to improve industrial
conditions, the more we shall seek to counteract the bad and depress-
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1905 THE TBUE FOUNDATIONS OF EMPIBE 671
ing effects which factory life, unchecked, unrestrained, is bound to
produce upon the men, and especially upon the women of England.
Enormous improvements are possible even within the limitations of
modem industrial conditions. If once within the will it will certainly
not be without the power of the nation to ensure for our toilers that
measure of personal dignity, health, happiness, without which neither
individual nor national life can flourish. As the status of any given
trade is high or low ; as the conditions under which it is followed are
good or bad ; so will that trade, if the staple one of a district, leave
its mark on the whole social life of the neighbourhood. If the trade
b dirty, badly paid, or ill organised, so will its influence be clearly
noted in the drunkenness and degradation of those who follow it.
Most important of all, perhaps, if a trade is largely dependent upon
the labour of women and children — especially of married women —
certain most definite results can be predicated with absolute clearness.
It is with this last aspect of the question — ^namely, the effect of indus-
trial life on women and children, and its bearing on the home — ^that
the present article is primarily concerned.
We are met on the threshold of our investigation by a query as to
the causes which determine a girl's career to the factory. And simul-
taneously we are greeted by the wail of the housekeeper who protests
her inability to find a kitchen-maid, and \&js the whole blame upon
'those ridiculous Board Schools.' This complaint is so common
that it is not undesirable to pause for a moment and glance at the
circumstances which operate as regards domestic service.
In a district the staple trades of which afford much occupation
for women, the pressure of circumstance, habit, and example will
undoubtedly tend to drive girls into the factory. Their mothers
have been mill hands before them, they know no other ideal, and
the greater liberty more than compensates in their eyes for stinted
food and often uncongenial work. But, so far as the servant difficulty
is concerned, necessity rather than choice enters largely into the
matter. It is too often forgotten by mistresses of the middle and
upper middle classes that in many homes where the pinch of poverty
b felt a child b obliged at the age of thirteen or fourteen to become
a little wage-earner. The factory and the small shop are the only
careers open to her. No child at that age b tall enough or strong
enough to become a housemaid or kitchen-maid in a large establbh-
ment. The old-fashioned custom in large houses for the housekeeper
to train little girb as stillroom-maids b practically a thing of the
past, and at the best such a custom influenced but a few individuab
on large estates paternally managed. Orderly and well-regulated
domestic service b, broadly speaking, quite beyond the reach of the
modem town-bred girl. Yet earn she must, and small wonder that she
revolts at the miserable existence of the little underfed, overworked
slavey in some disreputable lodging-house or beer-shop, and betakes
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672 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Oct.
herself to the relative Uberty of the factory. If there were a better
realisation among mistresses of the extraordinarily unattractive
conditions under which domestic service first presents itself to young
and untrained girls, some concerted effort no doubt would be made
to meet the difficulty. The average mother much prefers that her
child should be a servant rather than a factory hand. She has, how-
ever, a not unjust horror of the conditions which obtain in the class
of situation described above, and at thirteen there is Uttle opening
for service of a better type. Again, the expense of the small outfit
which is required in order to start a girl in service is quite beyond
the means of many poor parents — another fact generally over-
looked by the party who talk as though the closing of the elementary
schools would achieve a domestic millennium based on universal
ignorance.
Whatever the proximate reasou, once a girl has been absorbed
by the routine of mill or workshop her lot in life is fixed. If the work
is of a good type, well conducted and properly supervised, no harm
may result. Though the conditions of factory life imply that she
grows up to womanhood equipped with the most scanty knowledge
of domestic and housewifely matters, many factory workers are
often characterised by real dignity and independence of character —
women in whose hands the fine traditions of the British working class
wife and mother are well maintained. But when, on the contrary,
girls work at a dirty or dangerous trade under employers whose sense
of responsibility is torpid and indifferent, then the consequences are
apt to be little short of disastrous. Degrading and brutalising con-
ditions of labour, however bad they may be for men, are absolutely
fatal to women. Too often every vestige of self-respect vanishes,
womanly pride evaporates, and the individual is merged in the ^ hand,'
rowdy, dirty, lawless. Marriage, when it comes, implies but a dreary
repetition of the story. The slattern wife drags up unfortunate
children doomed to gravitate in the orbit of her own degradation,
and eventually to repeat the self -same history. When we pause to
reflect what the influence of the woman is, or at any rate should be
in her home, the evils of such a state of affairs become increasingly
manifest. Hence the ever-growing demand of the public conscience
that, since factory life is the inevitable lot of many women in this
country, their labour should be undertaken at least under conditions
which do not result in moral and physical degradation for the future
mothers of England.
It is calculated that not less than one-and-a-half million women
are engaged in industrial establishments regulated by law, besides
those employed in imregulated laundries and a large number of out-
workers. According to the latest Statistical Report of the Chief
Inspector of Factories and Workshops, dated June 1904, at the close
of the year 1903 there were 100,444 factories and 139,691 workshops
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1906 THE TRUE FOUNDATIONS OF EMPIRE 678
upon the Home Office Registeis. Fiom these factories and workshops
92,600 cases of accident were reported to the Home Office.
The above figures give one pause. Many pertinent questions are
suggested by them as regards the conditions of life and labour they
entail. It is not only a question of manufactures or commercial
supremacy, it is the far more vital problem of whether possibly we
may be manufacturing everjrthing except men; anyway, men and
women worthy of upholding the best traditions of the race. It may
be remembered that a very soothing and roseate view of industrial
life was advanced eloquently last year when Mrs. Ljrttelton made
her plucky and spirited attempt in Warp and Woof to bring before
public notice some of the evils which attend the lot of dressmakers'
assistants. The dispassionate official records mentioned above hardly
uphold the theory that industrial life is necessarily a sort of frolic to
the dance measure of its own machinery, and are worthy of more close
attention than they receive at the hands of the general public.
It may be permitted to remind the reader that Factory Law regulates
the labour of women, ' young persons ' — i.e. boys and girls between
the ages of fourteen and eighteen — and children. No child under
twelve may be employed in a factory, but between twelve and fourteen
children may work half-time, and a child of thirteen in possession of
an educational certificate ranks as a young person — ^that is, becomes
privileged to work from 6 a.m. to 6 p.m.
It is impossible to condemn too strongly the employment of a
child of thirteen for a working day of twelve hours. The detestable
half-time, it is true, may be looked upon as doomed, and is a dwindling
factor in industrial concerns. The pitiful round of tired children
alternating with weary minds and bodies between the drudgery of
school and the drugdery of the null will soon be a thing of the past.
But much yet remains to be done. No child should be allowed by
the State to enter a factory on any footing at the age of twelve. Its
place is at school, and public opinion should keep it there if possible
till the age of fourteen, so that mind and body may be given some
chance of equipment for the battie of life. For what chance of
ph3rsical, mental, or moral development is possible to a child whose
growing powers are arrested at this critical age by the monotonous,
heavy toil of factory existence ? Truly the individualists and the
champions of child labour who have been dying in perpetual last
ditches as the standard of exemption has risen steadily, have in some
ways curiously misunderstood the meaning of the term ' freedom.'
Undoubtedly it is a mistake to delay too long the age at which
a girl or a boy is apprenticed to a handicraft. But the assertion that
a child of thirteen is too old to learn a trade is a monstrous perversion
of fact. At thirteen children might be permitted to work as half-
timers if the circumstances of their parents render it absolutely im-
possible for them to remain longer at school. But that any child,
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674 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Oct.
especially any girl of thirteen, should be allowed by the law of the land
to work whole time, is a blot on the industrial scutcheon of England.
Let it always be remembered that the cases of leal need in which the
child's wages are of vital importance to the family budget are few and
far between. Too often child labour arises not from any real need,
but is the direct result of thriftiessness, greed, or drunkenness on the
part of the parent. The very fact that their pitiful earnings are
easily forthcoming is a cause which in certain districts strikes at the
root of paternal responsibility and helps to encourage and perpetuate
that poverty which the child's wages are supposed to alleviate. It
should not be difficult for organised charity to meet the cases of real
need already mentioned. Money is well spent when it is devoted
to helping a struggling &mily over bad times by ensuring for tiiat
&mily the greater economic independence which must ultimately result
from the better developed minds and bodies of its children. Few
facts are more remarkable when we come to look closely into the
causes which have created and are perpetuating certain social evils
than the small part played by true poverty in the matter. It is the
line of least resistance, of ignorance, intemperance, and thriftlessness,
which in nine cases out of ten reduces a family to the precarious
condition of dependence on the wages of small children.
Mutatis mutandiSy the arguments which can be brought against
the employment of child labour apply with even greater force to the
employment of the mothers and married women generally. And
here again the same objections are urged by the individualists who
claim industrial freedom for the children. The matter is, however,
an even more serious one. If slow and lethargic, public opinion
nevertheless has bestirred itself about the employment of children,
whereas it has not yet grasped the full bearings of the problem as it
affects married women.
The characteristics of a town or district in which married women
are largely engaged in factory work repeat themselves with such
monotonous r^ularity that they may be formulated without difficulty.
In the first place we are confronted with severe poverty, a poverty
from the pressure of which the married drudges, toil they ever so hard,
appear to know no respite ; next, we find a standard of domestic
life so debased that every amenity of home is trodden under foot ;
third, the rate of infant mortality will be abnormally high ; fourth,
the standard of self-respect among the men will be proportionately
low. Perhaps this fourth and last feature goes to the root of the
whole matter. A nation, at least a great nation, must have certain
ideals by which to live if it hopes to prosper in the world. Such
prosperity is not to be obtained through the violation of the primary
and natural law that the man is to work for wife and child, and the
woman is to be the guardian of the home. If these relations are
inverted ; if the responsibility of the man as bread-winner is broken
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1906 THE TRUE FOUNDATIONS OF EMPIRE 576
down, if he adopts the easy doctrine that less effort on his part is
necessary since his wife's wages may be counted upon to make up
any deficiency in his own, what social conditions are likely to result
irom such a state of affairs ? A plain answer to this question is to
be found in the statistics of infant mortality which are forthcoming
from the districts in which women's work is an economic feature.
Sncli statistics, grievous though they are, speak only of those who
die. They are silent as to the gamut of misery among those who
live — the unfit children of toil — ^weary women — drugged, neglected,
demoralised, and bereft of every influence which makes for health
of mind and body. Left to the precarious care of friends and neigh-
bours when the mother leaves the four weeks' old baby to drag herself
back to the factory, such children who survive, reared on bread,
gin, and sugar, stru^le through a miserable infancy, in many cases
to swell the ranks ultimately of the pauper and criminal classes. The
general circumstances of the family are as lamentable as those of
the children. If the greatness of any nation is proportionate to
the strength of its family life — and this proposition seems indisputable
— it is deplorable to realise the character of any home from which
the wife is absent all day and to which she returns in the evening,
not for rest but to commence her belated housework. Little wonder
that from the discomforts of such an establishment the husband
seeks refuge in the nearest public-house, and that the wife herself
knows no better place of relaxation. And, nevertheless, many good
people complain that children drawn from such a home are not con-
verted by the elementary schools into models of wisdom and admirable
behaviour, and when such hopeless victims sink into the submerged
tenth, querulously assert that it is all the result of education. Thus
from generation to generation the vicious circle repeats itself, and for
parents and children alike the dreary roimd of existence passes by,
nnreUeved by the blessings, unsanctified by the joys which wealth
cannot give and poverty alone cannot take away. Meanwhile, the
State looks on with a somewhat uneasy official conscience, but it
has a direct concern in the matter after all. Empires are not built
up on the offspring of denaturalised parents. Flat chests and rickety
limbs will not hold adequate converse with the enemy at the gate.
The physical deterioration and high infant mortality which mark the
areas of women's labour are matters which sooner or later will be
judged in their right perspective. Then perhaps the remedy will be
forthcoming.
' But what of the hardships you would cause by forbidding the
mother to work ? ' is the cry which is always raised when attention
is drawn to these facts. ' Granted that her lot and the lot of her
children is bad ; without her wages the family would starve.' The
reply to such a contention is that the perpetuation of a radically
unsound economic position can in the long run benefit nobody. In
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676 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Oct
the most literal as in the highest sense, the soundest economic position
for the married woman is the home, not the factory. It is to the
advantage of everyone concerned, herself, her husband, her children,
the State, that she should be kept in it. A man who is not in a position
to support a wife and family should recdve no asostance from pubKc
opinion in taking these responsibilities upon himself, least of all the
pubhc opinion which tolerates the wife as wage-earner. It is quite
posfflble to arrive at a state of affairs in which women do the stalled
and men the unskilled labour, thus ccHnpletely reversing the position
of bread-winner. But when Nature's Salic Law is thus set at defiance
the industry of a district is in an inverted position, and the evils
described above will grow and accumulate to an alarming degree. The
town of Dundee affords a striking example of this contention, and
is an object-lesson abounding in painful conclusions. Dundee, the
centre of the jute industry, emplojrs about 40,000 persons in the
manufacture of this fibre; 30,000 of this total are women, who
are engaged in both the skilled and unskilled branches of the jute
trade. The skilled operatives receive fairly good wages and work
under good conditions. The preparation and spinning of jute, on
the contrary — ^most of which is unskilled work — ^is a very dirty and
disagreeable process. The objectionable character of this branch of the
industry is at once reflected in the status of the workers, among whom
it is not surprising to find a very low standard prevalent, physical,
moral, and social. All the evils resulting from the employment of
female labour to which attention has been drawn in the preceding
paragraphs figure largely in this town. The infantile death-rate is
high, and the grievous neglect of young children consequent on the
absence of their mothers in factories bears its inevitable fruit of deUcacy
and disease among those who survive. The investigations recently
undertaken by the Dundee Social Union as regards the medical inspec-
tion of school children have brought to light most serious statistics
of retarded development and stunted growth. It is not surprising,
therefore, to find that Sir Archibald Hunter stated in a speech some
time since that the worst recruits he had come across were drawn
from the district of Dundee. Worst of all, the men who are accustomed
to their womenkind undertaking the skilled labour of the jute trade
accept the situation with nonchalance, and acquiesce in these condi-
tions of labour fraught with such serious consequences to themselves
and their families. It is as an illustration on a large scale of evils
which are common elsewhere in a minor degree that this town is
remarkable. The conclusion of course is irresistible — ^the emplojonent
of married women in factories in any considerable numbers is hostile
to the health, moraUty, and sobriety of a district.
All the arguments which tell agwist child labour apply with double
force to the employment of mothers. With the latter as with the former,
such wages help to create and perpetuate the poverty they are supposed
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1906 THE TRUE FOUNDATIONS OF EMPIRE 677
to relieve. But the best proof that the labour of married women,
as of children, in factories rests on an artificial basis, and too often
panders to the most worthless elements in society, is the fact that
in districts where the standard of masculine self-respect is high the
men themselves will not tolerate it.
There is poverty in Glasgow and in Paisley as in Dundee [writes Mrs. H. J.
Tennant], but its cure is not felt to lie in the employment of mothers. The
father accepts the obligation of bread-winner; he is ashamed that his wife
should work outside his home. ' If a Glasgow lad wearies o* work he must
marry a Dundee lassie.' There poverty conjures excuse, and a man is not
ashamed to claim his wife before her time in hospital is over, that she may come
out and earn his bread. Exceptional, it must be hoped, are such cases, but at
least the system which breeds them is not, and what some towns claim as a
necessity others will not tolerate, in their rejection disproving the need.
In the light of the above facts, the plea of the individualist, so
far as mothers are concerned, assumes a new character. The State
interferes in cases when liberty tends to become licence, and in the same
way it is bound to iuterfere when freedom resolves itself into the
right, however unconscious, of the strong to oppress the weak. Whole-
sale and drastic legislation on the subject perhaps is not advisable,
the more so that some of the greatest cases of hardship lie without
the scope of the Factory Act. The industrial Hinterland of the home
worker, euphonious but most misleading term, is a fruitful field of
evil. Legislation unsupported by public opinion would, under such
circumstances, tend to drive the married women more and more into
the ranks of the worst-paid, worst-organised sections of female labour.
A more effective control of outwork and the development of Trade
Unions among women may ameliorate some of the worst features of
sweating. In all questions of this kind, however, a point sooner or later
is reached when moral ideals, rather than legislative enactments,
become the profitable factors, and true reform lies in the spread of
the former. It is a question for conscience quite as much as for
Parliament, and the creation of an adequate public opinion is the
best weapon with which to fight the abuse. It is only by raising
the whole tone of society and morality that men and women in every
class can be brought to realise the evil and the menace of any system
which degrades motherhood and strikes at the influence of the home.
Nevertheless, in one particular the State for its own sake might inter-
pose with advantage. The prohibition of factory life to any woman
within at least three months of her confinement would result in untold
benefit to the health of mother and child alike. It should surely
not prove beyond the wit of our legislators to devise some system
of insurance whereby any hardships arising from this compulsory
abstention from work might be obviated for the family.
Turning now to another side of the question : for unmarried girls
factoiy life is a legitimate, and in many cases an inevitable career.
Vol. LVni—No. 344 Q Q
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578 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Oct.
There is a large preponderance of female population in this conntry ;
the last census returns showing the women outnumbered the men
by over one and a quarter millions. Here, of course, the position is
totally different. When marriage is, on the face of it, impossible
for a vast number of girls, it is the clear duty of public opinion and the
State to throw no obstacles in the path of an independent life for
such w(»nen. They are forced by the very facts of the case to work
for their living, and effort should be concentrated in raising the standard
of employment and wages, so that the means of a decent self-respecting
Uvelihood may be within their reach. The preoccupation of the State
in this matter, therefore, is twofold. Its first duty, so to speak, is
to keep the ring, so that women who are compelled to support them-
selves, and the quality of whose woric is as good as that of men, should
not be thrust aside, badly paid, and badly treated on the score of
their sex. Secondly, the State as guardian of the nation's prosperity
must look to it that no employment, from the ranks of which large
numbers of wives and mothers are after all drawn, shall be conducted
under conditions tending to unfit a woman for those primary duties
for which Nature has destined her. At the best of times a life of
fierce industrial competition must press heavily on a woman. From
the ideal point of view nothing could be less desirable, morally and
physically, than the routine of mill and factory. If circumstances
render such a career inevitable in this unideal world, at least its
disadvantages should be reduced to a minimum. Hence the Health
and Safety clauses of the Factory Act, which constitutes the industrial
charter of women in this country, and with one exception regulates
their labour in big industries.
The laundry industry is but partially regulated by the Act of
1901, and occupies a singularly anomalous position in this country.
It ranks third on the list of women's industries, only yielding place
in importance to the textile and clothing trades. Over 82,000
women and children are engaged in the 7,000 odd laundries
which come under State inspection. But as the census returns
of 1901 show that over 200,000 persons (the overwhelming majority
of which are women) pursue this calling, the magnitude of the trade
becomes at once apparent. No occupation has undergone a more
profound modification than laundry work, thanks to the advent and
spread of machinery. But in spite of a complete change in condi-
tions. State control has by no means kept pace with this prodigious
development.
Laundry work is heavy and trying under the most favourable
conditions. In the first place, it involves heavy manual labour under-
taken in a damp hot atmosphere, and incessant standing on wet floors.
The hours of work are also excessively long when the exhausting
character of the business is taken into account. Even in laundries
which come under the scope of the Act, women may work fourteen.
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1906 THE TBUE FOUNDATIONS OF EMPIRE 579
youiig persons twelve, and children ten hours a day, not inclusive^
but exclnsiye of meals. It is scarcely surprising, therefore, that in
accordance with the invariable rule that bad conditions of labour
create a bad class of operatives, laundry workers are too often remark-
able for roughness and intemperance. Laundries connected with
private houses and institutions, where washing is not conducted
as a trade, are wholly free from inspection. Three further classes are
exempted from the provisions of the Act. First, laundries attached
to institutiona whose inspection is otherwise provided for ; second,
larmdries attached to charitable and religious institutions; third,
domestic laundries, in which members of the same family and not
more than two outsiders are employed.
The conditions of small domestic laundries often leave much to
be desired ; but the law of the survival of the fittest is operating in
their case, and such establishments are rapidly giving place to the
modem steam laundry, with plant and equipment requiring special
buildings. Far different, however, is the case of the convent and
charitable institution laundries, which up to the present have evaded
legal control. A large number of religious establishments, especially
reformatories and rescue homes, have laundries attached to them in
which the inmates are employed. Such establishments make a con-
siderable revenue by their washing, and are serious competitors with
the ordinary steam laundry. The circumstance, therefore, that on
the ground of their * religious' character they are free from all regula-
tions and can work overtime at will in the most insanitary of conditions,
is primarily a gross injustice to the secular laundries. Such establish-
ments have, however, up to the present time strenuously and success-
fully resbted State control. It may be laid down as an axiom that
w^henever an institution or charitable body declines to show a balance-
sbeet and shrinks from inspection, that body automatically puts a
black cross against its own name. To shrink from inspection is to
make a prima fade case for its necessity. Whatever objections
religious institutions may have advanced with some show of reason
in the old days against masculine inspectors, no such plea holds good
since the organisation of the feminine staff. It is absurd to claim that
a viiut from one of the lady inspectors, women whose lives are as much
consecrated to a career of service and devotion as those of the sisters
tbemselves, can introduce a discordant element into the institution.
On the other hand, it can only be supremely obnoxious to many people
on religious grounds that the name of Christianity should be invoked
as a shield for insanitary conditions, dangerous and unf enced machinery,
and excesdve hours of work. There is too much reason to fear that
abuses of a grave character often exist in the uninspected religious
lamidries. According to Lord Lytton, the first Government inspection
of the reli^ous houses in France in 1892 brought to light many evils —
children of from seven to eight years of age being made to work twelve
a a2
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580 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Oct.
hours a day, and instruction of so inadequate a character given that
women often left the convents between the ages of twenty and thirty
unable to read, write, or follow any profession. As far as the peni-
tentiary establishments are concerned, it is to fly in the face of all
experience to imagine that the status of the giiis can be improved
so long as they are allowed to work under bad conditions. Many
well-managed institutions and convents are quite prepared to accept
the principle of inspection and do not shrink from it. The present
exemption therefore only benefits the unfit and ill-organised. The
pressure brought to bear by the Irish party on the Government in
1901 led to the abandonment of the clause regulating the religious
establishments. It is well to notice to what political section the nation's
thanks are due for the continuation of this abuse.
Apart from this exemption, the existing Factory and Workshop
Act, when its provisions are loyally carried out by masters and workers
alike, is on the whole a good law. A factory in which the letter and
spirit of the Act are upheld will receive no embarrassing attentions
from the Inspectorate. But the usefulness of the Act turns upon the
question of adequate administration. In order that the law should
be administered in anything approaching an ideal way a large increase
is necessary in the Inspectorate, and in particular the number of lady
inspectors should at least be doubled. Under existing circumstances
the staff can only deal with gross cases of abuse, and the other and
valuable side of the work, which conosts in levelling up moderate con-
ditions to a really desirable standard, has necessarily to remain in
abeyance. Since, however, it is very probable that the salaries of
nine additional ladies would prove too costly a burthen for a country
which squanders millions in incompetent administration, it is not
unreasonable to plead that the staff of Miss Anderson, the principal
lady inspector, should be augmented by the services of at least six
women inspectors, two of whom should have medical qualifications.
Where the health and safety of tens of thousands of women and
children are concerned, it is increasingly necessary that expert advice
should be brought to bear upon their work, particularly when such
wom«n are engaged in dangerous trades. The assistance of a woman
inspector who was a trained doctor would be of the greatest value
in many directions.
A question of great importcmce, so far as the harmonious and
successful working of the law is concerned, arises over the fersonnd
of the Inspectorate. It is essential that work of this character,
abounding as it does in delicate and difficult situations, should be
undertaken by men and women, not only of ability, but of culture and
education. In the best sense of the term a Factory Inspector should
be a man or woman of the world — a person of tact and judgment,
possessing that breadth of view which comes from long acquaintance
with cities and men, and who will conmiand the confidence of work-
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1906 THE TRUE FOUNDATIONS OF EMPIRE 681
people and employers alike. The Home Office would do well to disabuse
itself of the idea that expert knowledge of one particular manufacturing
process, whether gained as manager or as man, fits an inspector for the
general responsibilities of his or her post. On the contrary, persons
appointed on such groimds alone may find themselves involved in
all manner of difficulty when once off the beaten track of their own
speciahty. Under such circumstances, situations may easily arise
when the opinion of the master is more valuable on a ^ven technical
point than that of the inspector, and friction and anomaly consequently
result. General training and the mental and moral outlook which
comes from education in its best sense are more essential to an inspector
than expert knowledge divorced from the broader experience of life.
The personal equation is above all others the one that tells, and if
the authorities are wise it is the one on which primarily they will
insist. The law, of course, is strong enough to impose its will on the
employer, and in the case of recalcitrant and reactionary masters it
has no choice but to do so in the most vigorous manner possible. But
the interests of all persons concerned are best served not by coercion,
but by friendly co-operation, and a highly qualified Inspectorate of
men and women whose judgments the masters themselves respect
is the main step in achieving this result.
No article dealing with the industrial concerns of women would
be complete without some reference to the ugly circumstances which
occasionally attend dismissals. Intimidation of the worst character
often rules in factories and workshops, where both spirit and letter
of the Act are deliberately set at defiance. The pressure brought
to bear upon employees by unworthy masters is a painful but not
uncommon feature of industrial life. Many women refuse to^make
a just complaint to an inspector, or to give evidence at a prosecution,
for fear of the consequences such action might entail. Cases of sum-
mary and vindictive dismissal following on truthful replies to an
inspector are reported again and again. Strange to say, the law has
no power whatever to protect a worker who thus suffers for a refusal
to commit perjury. It is, again, one of the anomalies in which English
legislation abounds that terrorism of this kind, having for its aim
the evasion of a measure designed to promote national health and
well-being, can be pursued without the smallest inconvenience to the
employer. The brunt of such behaviour almost invariably falls upon
women, who, owing to poverty and weakness, are the least able to
stand up for their rights. The State can only deprecate such behaviour.
It cannot punish the offender or indemnify the victim. Where the
law professes itself helpless, however, private organisation has stepped
in to fill the breach. The Industrial Law Committee, founded in
1898 with the cordial support of the then Home Secretary, Sir Matthew
White Ridley, now brings very practical assistance to the sufferers
from such intimidation. The object of this committee_is by the
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682 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Oct.
admimstration of an Indemnity Fund to render pecuniary assistance to
any woman (or boy or girl under eighteen) who has been discharged
for giving truthful evidence to an inspector. Steps are taken by the
Society to find a new post for the dismissed person, and the wages
earned in the previous situation are paid until such fresh employment
is obtained. Still further, the Committee seeks to spread information
as to the legal protection of the industrial classes by means of corre-
spondence, lectures, and the distribution of literature. It is difficult
to overrate the services of such an organisation as this, which by its
modest and unsensational methods is able not only to uphold, but
actually to render effective a great legislative enactment. The proper
administration of the law and the promotion of further reform are
the principles which sum up its poUcy . With wider scope and influence
the Industrial Law Committee would be in a position to render increas-
ing services not only to the weak and helpless victims of oppression,
but to the nation, of whose industrial law it is the best champion.
For it is this national aspect of factory life which demands an
attention it seldom receives. It is imperative at times that we should
Uft the whole question out of the acrimonious atmosphere of trade
disputes, wages and regulations, and survey it in its broader Imperial
aspects. The foundations of Empire are at stake in this matter, the
Empire whose purple is a mockery unless it prove a symbol of the
strength and righteousness of its people. And strength and righteous-
ness alone can come from the health and sanity of the whole body
politic. Veld and prairie, null and factory, go to make up that great
whole. No divorce between these two sides is possible if both alike are to
flourish. Each has to gain in breadth of view and experience from the
other, especially in that wider sympathy which comes from kinship with
a large and diverse family. The worker is the true Empire-builder.
Hence we must look to it that here in the homeland, where the pressure
of life is inevitably heavier than in the Colonies, we too are raising
a race of men and women worthy to claim kinship with the strong
young nations of the new worlds.
A heedless and despairing acquiescence in the many difficult social
problems of our time can only prove fatal to the whole development
of the British Commonwealth. If, in Burke's immortal words, England
is still to remain * the sanctuary of liberty, the sacred temple con-
secrated to our conmion faith,' it behoves us to see that on our altars
bums the fire of a national life from which true illumination may spring
— no ffickering flame half choked by the ashes of indifference, of
misery, of injustice.
Violet R. Markham.
L
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1905
THE STUDY OF HISTORY IN PUBLIC
SCHOOLS
A SOHOOLMASTBR at One of our greater public schools is considered,
I suppose, by certain sections of popular opinion, one of the least
qualified of people to discuss any branch of education. It is the
fashion — perhaps it has alwajrs b€«n the fashion — ^to say that at the
greater public schools, such as Eton, little work is done, and that
what is done is useless. The saying of Mr. Lowe that it is Eton
against education, and that Eton always wins, is not forgotten ; and
the number of people who maintain that they never did a stroke of
work at school is quite remarkable. Yet a man's reminiscences of
his boyhood are proverbially deceptive ; a piece of work successfully
shirked, an adventure which ended in the block, remain in the memory
when many exercises carefully done and many weeks of virtuous
and uneventful occupations are totdly forgotten. I remember being
present some time ago at a dinner given to an eminent Etonian who
in his speech referred to his life at Eton. ^ I am afraid,' he said,
* when I was at Eton I was a very idle little boy.' ' What a lie ! '
murmured a near neighbour to me, a distinguished man and a con-
temporary of his at Eton ; ^ he was a most awful sap ! ' We may
suspect that this Etonian is not the only one who in his later and
busier daj^ comes to regard the years of his youth, not without some
secret satisfaction, as years of merry and incorrigible idleness ; and
that what Byron said of Peel at Harrow, that he alwajrs learnt his
lessons and never got into a scrape, is true of many another great
man who perhaps would not like to confess it. A schoolmaster may, at
any rate, be forgiven if he doubts the memories of those who assert
that they learnt nothing at school, and if he believes that his pre-
decessors were not so dishonest as to make no attempt to educate
their pupils' minds, nor so inefficient as to be unable to make their
bojrs do any work.
It is imdeniable, however, that the curriculum of pubUc schools
not so very long ago was somewhat narrow, and that little attention
was paid to subjects. which are now rightly regarded at most schools
as of great importance. Of no subject is this more true than that of
588
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684 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Oct.
history. The late Professor H. L. Withers, in an interesting lecture
on the teaching of history in the nineteenth century — ^a lecture which
has been recently published — showed that up to the time of Arnold
of Rugby 'history was practically not taught as a subject at our
pubUc schools and universities.' The consequent ignorance of some
members of former generations is illustrated by the story, quoted in
a recent biography, that the Duke of Wellington was once seriously
. asked by one of his aides-de-camp whether he had ever met Queen
Elizabetib. Even after Arnold's headmastership history made but
slow progress at schools other than Rugby and perhaps Harrow.
The PubUc Schools Commissioners in 1864 reported that ' there was
in general Uttle sjrstematic teaching of either history or geography,'
and that ' the proper degree and method of teaching history, or of
requiring history to be learnt at school, are matters not settled by
general practice, and upon which, indeed, English schoolmasters
seem to have arrived at no very definite conclusions.' The report
goes on to quote the really astoimding statement of the headmaster
of Winchester : ' I wish we could teach more history,' he said ; ' but
as to teaching it in set lessons, I should not know how to do it.' Since
that time some progress has been made, but our progress has been
slower than that of other great countries of the world. In all (German
schools, for instance, whether they be classical or semi-classical or
non-classical, the time allowed to history and geography is never less
than three hours in school each week, and this is exclusive of work
done out of school. Every period of the world's history is studied,
not once, but at three different stages during the boy's career ; and
every teacher of history is a skilled specialist. No school in England,
so far as I know, approaches the completeness of the German system ;
and by no means all have even one trained historian on their staff.
In France there has been of recent years a marked improvement in
the teaching of history ; as a rule not less than three hours in school
each week are given to its study, and all the history teachers are
trained men. In America there has been considerable discussion on
the best methods of teaching history. A Committee of Seven was
recently appointed by the American Historical Association, which,
after inspecting the chief schools not only in America but in Europe,
drew up a most elaborate report on the teaching of history in schools,
a report which is already beginning to have its influence.
We are still probably, in the organisation of history, in the methods
of teaching it, in the supply of trained teachers, and in the time
allotted to it, behind the other chief nations of the world; and
when we examine the systems of other countries we must confess that
we have much to learn from them, whilst they are quite frank in
telUng us with some emphasis that they have little or nothing to learn
from us. A French book on the teaching of history labels all our
methods as mechanical. So recently as 1899 the American Committee
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1906 HISTORY IN PUBLIC SCHOOLS 585
of Seven reported on the history- teacliing in our public schools that
* the most noticeable features were a lack of historical instruction,
a common failure to recognise the value of history, and a certain
incoherence and general confusion.^ A book published two years
ago in America on history in schools, whilst giving chapters on the
history-teaching in France and Germany, ignores England, because
in our country the recognition of its importance has been tardier
than among Americans, and the methods of teaching it are held to
be inferior to those in America. And if we want critics who are
nearer home, there is the judgment of Mr. Bryce : * History is of all
subjects which schools attempt to handle perhaps the worst taught.'
Yet, despite these strictures, I beUeve that those most qualified
to judge would agree that considerable improvement has taken place
in recent years in the teaching of history. Many schools have one
master who can devote a large part, if not all, of his time to the
teaching and the study of history. More time is devoted to it by the
boy pursuing the ordinary curriculum, and greater facilities are given
to those who have an aptitude for it. The Oxford and Cambridge
Schools Examination Board recently issued a report on its examina-
tion for the higher certificates — for which the highest forms in a large
number of public schools enter — summarising its impressions of the
work done by the schools during the existence of the Board. In the
report on the work done in history during the last twenty years the
Board refers to a decided improvement on such points as the style
and relevance of the answers, the knowledge of geography, and the
better choice of text-books ; and further evidence of the improvement
is shown by the fact that though the standard of distinction has been
raised, the numbers gaining distinction have decidedly increased.
Moreover, the importance of history is being recognised in public
examinations. Under the new army regulations a knowledge of the
outlines of the history of England and the British Empire is com-
pulsory, whether for the qualifying or for the leaving certificate ; and
in the competitive examination, history — comprising English history
and a period of European history — ^is one of the alternative subjects.
The Cambridge Syndicate, in their recent report, made a period of
history one of the alternative subjects for the Previous Examination
and though that report was made the occasion of a vast correspond-
ence, no one, I beUeve, attacked this particular proposal. The time,
then, does not seem inopportune for an attempt to discuss what
history can and cannot do in the public schools, and to locate the
position which history should occupy in their curriculum.
What, then, can the study of history do ? I suppose all people
will recognise the supreme value of history in encouraging and in
stimulating an intelligent patriotism — a pride and interest in one's
own country, in its character and in its institutions, and a wish to be
of value to it. Not only is it the duty of every country to cherish
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686 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Oct.
the memory of thoBe who have done it gieat service in the past, but
there is no sharper spur to a noble ambition than the example
of great lives, and no better means of making a man realise his
responsibilities towards his own generation and towards those that
succeed it. It was a saying of Burke's that those who never look
back to their ancestors will never look forward to their posterity;
and all will agree as to its truth. Moreover, there are specnal
reasons why an Eoglishman should learn the history of his own
country. One may be pardoned for thinking that no people has a
nobler or more inspiring story. Again, our history has a continuity
which is lacking in that of many other coimtries. We have no
cataclysm like the French Revolution of 1739 ; we were never divided
into Uie three hundred discordant States which c<miposed Germany
in past centuries. Bishop Creighton, in his Romanes lecture, showed
that we have preserved our national character throughout the ages.
The mediaeval, the Elizabethan, and, we hope, the modem English-
man all show the same individuality, the same initiative in action,
the same independence in thought and speech, the same practical
sagacity, and, on the whole, the same power of conduct. The men
who drew up Magna Carta were guided by the same practical wisdom,
the same desire to avoid abstract questions and to deal with proved
abuses only, as the men who drew up the Petition of Right in 1628
or the Declaration of Rights in 1688. Drake and Nelson showed the
same glorious self-confidence, the same daring initiative, and the
men who won Crecy, and Poictiers, and Agincourt were not essen-
tially different from the men who won the many victories of the
Peninsular war, or who endured the hardships of South Africa. Again,
we have preserved our national institutions, and I venture to think
that no one can fully appreciate them who has not some knowledge
of their history. To take only two illustrations. To study the
present government of France we have only to study the Constitu-
tion as drawn up in 1871, or, at least, we need hardly go further back
than the great Revolution. To study the American Constitution we
need hardly go back more than one hundred and thirty years ; but in
studying our own there is no limit. Our Parliament, it may be said,
dates from the reign of Edward the First ; but to understand it fully
we must go back to the Witenagemot of the Angle-Saxons, or even to
the rude form of assembly described in the Qermama of Tacitus.
Again, who can hope to understand the Church of England without
some knowledge of its history and of the part that it has played in
English life, and who, after all, were able to interpret its position
better than those two great historians, Stubbs and Creighton ?
Every Englishman is proud of his country ; he has learnt to be
proud of his Empire as well. Our conquest and government of India,
for instance, is unique. To have conquered and to have ruled, on
the whole with such extraordinary success, such extraordinary wisdom,
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1905 HISTORY IN PUBLIC SCHOOLS 587
and such extraoidinary justice, a continent containing some three
hundred millions of people of conflicting characters and traditions, is
a feat unparalleled in the annals of the world. What a large part
the history of India would have played in the education, for instance,
of the Grermans, if they and not we ourselves had been the conquerors !
And yet we are, as a nation, still, I suppose, curiously ignorant of the
history of the Empire. It was a matter of wonderment to Macaulay
that whilst every schoolboy— Macaula/s schoolboy was, of course,
an exceptional one — ^knew who imprisoned Montezuma and who
strangled Atahualpa, probably not one in ten, even among English
gentlemen of highly cultivated minds, could tell who won the battle
of Buxar ; who perpetrated the massacre of Patna ; whether Sujah
Dowlah ruled in Oude or in Travancore ; or whether Holkar was a
Hindoo or a Mussulman. Even a professed historian might hesitate
to answer ofEhand such questions as these ; but I doubt whether the
majority of English gentlemen some sixty years later could answer
very much easier questions than these upon the history of India.
We are accustomed, with some complacency, to reflect upon the
haphazard and accidental way in which our Empire was built up ;
but we do not wish to lose it in the same way. We may be ruined
by ignorance in the future, and history shows us that we have suffered
from it in the past. Cromwell's cruelty in Ireland, for instance, was
partly due to his ignorance of Irish history, to his thinking that the
Irish people and the English settlers had hved amicably together,
and that the rebellion of 1641 was an entirely unprovoked massacre ;
and the memory of Cromwell's cruelty at Dr<^heda and Wexford
still helps to embitter the relations between England and Ireland.
Again, England's loss of the American Colonies was due partly to her
ignorance; her ignorance of the history of the American Colonies
caused her to misunderstand their character and helped to bring on
the war ; the ignorance of her soldiers with regard to the geographical
conditions of America helped to make that war disastrous. We
all know how Newcastle, who was responsible for the Colonies for
some twenty-five years in the eighteenth century, was said to have
kept a roomful of unopened American despatches, and was so ignorant
that he did not know that Cape Breton was an island, and proposed
to send an expedition to help Annapolis without knowing where it
was. Our statesmen now are no doubt better informed ; but a recent
correspondence would seem to show that a distinguished Professor
of Greek and a Member of Parliament is still unaware that a New
Zealander is not the same as an Australian ; whilst a Cabinet Minister,
recently resigned, had to confess in the House of Commons to an
ignorance, which he described as colossal, of India.
No subject ought to be more interesting and more fruitful to an
Englishman than a knowledge of the history of the Empire, of the
great men who helped to form it, of the dangers through which it has
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588 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Ock.
passed, and of the endless varieties of government and of race which
characterise it at the present day. And no one, I suppose, will deny
that problems of vast magnitude will have to be solved by a future
if not by the present generation ; that some knowledge of the con-
ditions and causes that have produced those problems is indispensable ;
and that such knowledge can best be obtained through a study of
history and of historical geography. In all parts of the Empire
will come problems of federation, of defence, of fiscal and political
union ; the future of India alone presents problems with regard to
population and government of appalling magnitude ; in our country
there are problems of capital and labour, of poverty and luxury, of
education and religion which will tax the greatest statesmen. To
expect schoolbojrs to have the knowledge and the judgment necessary
to form an opinion upon such problems is of course absurd; but
is it absurd to endeavour to give them the foundations of know-
ledge upon which they can build later, and the habit of looking at
questions from more than one point of view, and of trying to understand
the history before suggesting the solution of a problem, which I
believe to be the most valuable part of a training in history ? ^ It
is sheer presumption,' says Frederic Harrison, * to attempt to remodel
existing institutions without the least knowledge how they were
formed, or whence they grew ; to deal with social questions without
a thought how society arose ; to construct a social creed without an
idea of fifty creeds which have risen and vanished before.'
I am aware that these observations appear trite and may seem
hardly worth the making : and yet we cannot say that our schools
act upon them. It is significant that the Oxford and Cambridge
Examinations Board should, in the smnmary report already referred
to, state that the work in English history is still inferior, on the
whole, to that in Greek and Roman history. Again, I have tried to
obtain information as to the periods of history studied in the upper
forms of some of our leading schools. At one school no history is
apparently taught at all, except to history specialists. At another
no English history is taught in the higher forms, and at several English
history is only studied every third year. At another the upper forms
never get beyond 1689 in English history, and only devote every
third or fourth term to it. Reforms are being made in most schools,
but it cannot be said at present that the importance of British history
is fully realised in our public schools, or that its study is in perhaps
the majority of schools arranged upon a satisfactory system.
Still, most schools teach, in a greater or less degree, the history
of England and of her Empire. Not many, however, endeavour
to teach the history of Europe, and hardly any in the systematic way
in which it is taught in Qermany and France. Yet some knowledge of
European history is, or ought to be, indispensable. For one thing,
though we have been affected to a smaller extent than other nations
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1905 HISTOBY^IN PUBLIC SCHOOLS 689
by external influences, yet we have been affeoted ; and it is difficult
to understand certain periods of English without some knowledge
of European history. Again, some politicians are rather proud of
dilating upon our insularity, upon the splendid isolation in which
England Uves ; but if our insularity is made an excuse for ignorance
of other countries it is not without its dangers. It is ignorance which
leads to a certain contempt of other nations, a contempt which is
apt to make us indifferent as to what other nations are doing or think-
ing, and may cause us to learn some day that we have been living in
a fool's paradise. The self-confidence born of experience is one thing,
but the self-confidence bom of ignorance has led us into many a
disaster, and may lead us into many more. It is ignorance, again,
which makes us appear so superior in our dealings with other nations,
and so overbearing in our demands. Of this there are not wanting
instances in our history. Cromwell, it will be remembered, demanded
of the King of Spain that he should grant freedom of religion in his
dominions, and freedom of trade in the New Worid. ^You might
as well have asked for his Majesty's two eyes,' was the reply of the
astonished ambassador. Lord Orenville, in a famous example of the
didactic despatch, actually suggested to Talleyrand when Napoleon
proposed peace in 1799 — ^as the best and most natural pledge of the
reaUty of peace — ^the restoration of the Bourbons ; and received the
prompt rejoinder from Napoleon that Greorge the Third could hardly
fail to recognise the right of nations to choose the form of their
government, since it was from the exercise of this right that he held
his own crown. And, at the present day opinions are expressed upon,
and advice is tendered to, foreign nations, in public speeches and
in the Press, which show absolute ignorance of their traditions,
development, and sentiments.
Moreover, ignorance makes us unsjrmpathetic. The surest way
to create sjrmpathy between two nations is to impart to each a know-
ledge of the other's past and of the other's heroes, and we should try to
read the history and to look at the heroes of other nations from their
point of view. It is inevitable, perhaps, that every nation should
exaggerate its own achievements and belittle those of its enemies or
its allies. Thus, in the history of the Hundred Years' War we linger
over the successes of the Black Prince, the French over those of Du
Guesclin and Joan of Arc. We hardly do justice to the part played
by the Spanish in the Peninsular War, the French historians to the
part we played in the Crimea. The English and Grerman accounts
of Waterloo, and the English and French accounts of the Alma, differ
fundamentally. Again, it is almost impossible for a man to be an
unprejudiced judge of his enemy, and we must not depend overmuch
upon contemporary judgments. We must not believe all the exag-
gerated stories told of the harsh treatment which inoffensive English-
men received in Spain in the days of Philip the Second ; if we wish to
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admire the heroic achievementB of the Dutch in the seventeenth century
we must not accept such stories as that of the broom at the mast's
head told of a man so modest as the great Tromp ; if we wish to
understand the French Revolution in the eighteenth century we must
beware of Burke and his Reflections. We should try to do justice
to other nations, to learn that in order to appreciate the doings of
our own country it is not necessary to depreciate those of others.
Read without prejudice, the history of no country can fail to arouse
one's interest and one's sympathy in its future destinies, and it is a
matter of regret that the schoolbooks of many nations should increase
rather than diminish mutual dishkes.
A study of history, then, may enable an Englishman or an English
boy to take a more intelligent, a more sympathetic, and a more tolerant
view of other nations. But it may do still more. It provides, for
instance, information which — as Bishop Stubbs has said — ^is 'part
of the apparatus of a cultivated life.' It widens a boy's horizon.
It brings a boy into contact with some great English classics. It may
do something to help a boy to form a right judgment upon the great
issues of human affairs, which, according to a great historian, should
be the aim of the study of history. Moreover, I suppose that one
object of education is to give a boy intellectual tastes and interests
which he may develop in later life ; and history may be a most valuable
instrument for awakening in a boy such interests and for encouraging
such tastes. In sajong this, I do not intend for one moment to under-
value the importance of other subjects ; indeed it is to be hoped that
the intolerant and ignorant spirit which sometimes characterises
educational controversy may soon pass away — ^the kind of spirit which
asserts that the study of the classics is merely the unintelligent learn-
ing of unreasonable rules of grammar, or that French prose is so like
English prose as to provide no intellectual training, or that the study
of Science is merely the committal to memory of names which are a
barbarous compound of Greek and Latin, or that history is the dull
repetition of obscure dates and geography of obscure places. No
one, for instance, who knows anything of the past is likely to under-
estimate the influence of the classics on many of the best minds ; no
one who has ever seen work in a scientific laboratory is likely to under-
estimate the training in some form of science. But it is also true that
the boys who really matter, the boys who are capable of enjoying
and profiting by the things of the mind, will not all enter the intel-
lectual life by the same avenue, and the great fault in the public
schools of the past was that only one avenue was open ; and no charge
was more frequently made in the past against public schools than
that a boy often left school without any sort of intellectual interest.
A liberal education [writes picturesquely a recent writer] is like a great
circle of arching trees, through which the sunlight pours down upon the
fountains and green turf. As one stands in this circle one looks on every side
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1905 HISTORY IN PUBLIC SCHOOLS 691
down long radiating avennes, stretching in shadowy vistas, each leading to
some bower or palace too faint to be descried. In this central ring the boys
are gathered, dropped as it were from the skies. They are shown the flashing
waters and the flakes of sunlight that stir softly in the grass beneath the
branches. One by one they look round them, and their eyes travel along the
spacious avenues. This will attract the imagination of one, that of another ;
one by one they start out along their chosen paths.
To some, I think, the ohosen path will be that of history. And
the great advantage is that the path of history has many cross-paths
which connect it with other subjects. By no means all hojB are
^fted, for instance, with the literary sense. Many boys do not appre-
ciate as they onght their own literature ; some may even think with
Greorge III. — who prided himself on being a typical Englishman —
that Shakespeare contains ' much sad stofi,' though, like that monarch,
they may not dare to proclaim it. And these boys, if they cannot
appreciate their own, are not likely to appreciate the beauties, for
example, of Greek literature ; yet it by no means follows that they
should cease to be interested in the Greeks. If they read the history
of Greece intelligently and with the aid of text-books which are not
a mere abridgment of dull facts; if they read parts — and large parts —
of Herodotus and Thucydides, not so much as literature but as history ;
i£ they read the later history of Europe, and begin— however dimly —
to realise the influence of Greek thought tiirougbout the ages upon
pohtdcs or philosophy or poetry, their interest may be aroused in the
Greeks, and like Petrarch, they may learn to venerate even if they
are unable to comprehend their literature.
Or again, it is not everyone who is gifted with the artistic sense,
and appreciation of the great masters in painting is not instinctive
with the majority of Englishmen. I remember being in the Accademia
at Venice when a distinguished English soldier was in the gallery.
I saw him go into the Uttle room where the masterpieces of Giovanni
Bellini are preserved. A moment afterwards he reappeared. ' There
is nothing but Madonnas in that room,' he said gloomily to his com-
panion, and walked disconsolately away. Here, again, history might
help such a cme. If a person has studied the history of the Renaissance
period, he could not fail — even if he was inartistic — ^to take an interest
in the evolution of the art of the Renaissance, and in its various forms
as developed in the diSerent States ; and he might have learned why
tiie pictures of Bellini's period are chiefly religious. My point, perhaps,
is obscure, but it is this : Through the study of history, a person may
have interests in a people without understanding its literature, or
may appreciate buildings and pictures though he may be without
the feelings of an artist.
A study of history should again, above all, develop broadness of
judgment and broadness of sympathy ; and it ought to do something
to break down the self-sufficiency — not only confined to the English
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592 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Oct.
boy — which labels every subject that is not congenial as ' rot.* And
a taste for history once acquired is a taste for life. It is at once one's
delight and despair that one can never hope to exhaust all periods,
and hardly hope even to acquire sufficient material to know inti-
mately one epoch. Fuller knowledge, new evidence, cause one ever
to revise one's judgments of men and of events, and to look upon
subjects from ever fresh points of view.
But, it may be urged, if the study of history is to provide all this
information and to arouse all these interests, is not an ideal teacher
required and an ideal boy ? Parents are decidedly of opinion that
in our public schools every teacher is not an ideal one, and school-
masters decidedly of opinion that though each parent thinks his boy
an ideal one, all boys are not ideal. How can any one teacher be
expected to supply the encyclopedic knowledge, the enthusiasm,
the imagination, the breadth of view, the variety of interests, the
clearness of intellect and lucidity of expression required ? And
then some boys, by heredity or by home training, are, in Matthew
Arnold's phraseology, such Philistines or such Barbarians that they
will never have any intellectual interests at any period of their lives.
Others are too stupid, or perhaps too superior, or too much devoted to
other subjects to profit by history ; and how can any one teacher be
equally successful with both the stupid and the clever, the imaginative
and the prosaic, the idle and the industrious boy ; to stir, as Mr. ABquith
said of Jowett, intellectual lethargy into action, and yet be able to
reduce intellectual conceit to a condition of abashed silence ?
I do not profess to find an answer to these arguments, and most
masters are too conscious of their own deficiencies — ^and of those of
their divisions — to deny their force. But, after all, they apply to
the teachers of all other subjects in a greater or less degree; and
a teacher, if he is keen and a believer in the value of his own subject,
tliough he may exaggerate the power of that subject when in the hands
of what he regards as an ideal teacher, probably is himself ddng
more good than he thinks himself individually capable of achieving.
Again, it may be urged that the parents who write about public
schools and their failings often seem to expect their sons to leave
school with the intellectual tastes and activities of a cultured man
of forty. A distinguished educationist has said that there are
some studies which must be left till, and some tastes which ought
to be developed after, the school career is over. Is not history, it
may be urged, one of these studies? Probably most people will
agree that it is not. For one thing, history is not an easy subject
for a man to take to casually in later life, even if he is a man of leisure.
It is not easy for a man who begins by knowing little or no history to
construct a framework into which he can fit new knowledge, nor
will it be without considerable mental effort. Moreover the grammar,
the elementary facts of history, ought to be learnt at an early age
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1906 HISTORY IN PUBLIC SCHOOLS 698
when some measnie of coercion can be applied. The Prime Minister
is of opinion that the only way to enjoy any work of literature is
with one's foot on the hearth ; and probably the majority of ns, when
we have any leisure, wonld never read in any other way. One can
nnderstand a man reading Homer in that position, though it is ahnost
inconceivable that he wonld be prepared to study the verbs in -fit.
Similarly, though one might read Macaulay with pleasure with the
foot on the hearth, one would hardly begin to learn the dates of the
kings of England or of France, unless indeed one had the same passion
for exercising one's memory as Macaulay himself. There may be
a few, like Cato, who will begin learning Qreek at the age of eighty,
or a few, like Mary the Second, who will begin to learn constitutional
history when over thirty ; but it may safely be afi&rmed of the great
majority that they will do nothing of the kind.
That history will provide for all boys useful information, and
may give to some tastes and interests for their later life, will, I think,
not be denied. But after all the chief object of education is to develop,
to disdpline, to draw forth the powers of the growing mind, and any
subject which fails to do this must occupy only a subordinate place
in any scheme of education. And it is often asserted that history
cannot give the brain any intellectual exercise or discipline. That
seems to have been the opinion of the Public Schools Commissioners
in 1864, for in their report they say : ' To gain an elementary know-
ledge of history little more is required than some sustaifled but not
very laborious efforts of memory ; it may therefore be acquired easily
and without any mental exercise of much value.' That is the opinion
of so attractive an historian and so experienced a teacher as Mr. C. R. L.
Fletcher of Oxford, who apparently — ^from the preface to his recent
Introductory History of England — ^regards the study of history as
merely the acquisition of information, and as no instrument of educa-
tion. Of course, if a boy is regarded as a sort of pitcher to be filled
up with a certain number of useful facts, history will remain merely
an exercise for the memory ; but it seems to me that the study of
history can be made, and should be made, a most valuable instrument
for teaching a boy to express himself on paper in his own language.
This can be done through written answers to questions and through
historical essays. It is sometimes forgotten what a great variety of
questions may be asked. Some, of course, may be set merely for the
purpose of testing a boy's knowledge; each question may require
only one word as an answer, or three or four lines. Questions which
are set for this object ought only to require short answers, not so much
because they may take up too much of the boy's time if they are
longer, but because otherwise they take up too much of the master's
in looking over. But history questions should, as a rule, have as their
object not merely to elicit a boy's information, but also to test and
develop his abiUties. The object of a history question should be to
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teach a boy in a limited time how to disentangle from a mass of material
the particular facts which he requires ; how to arrange these facts so
as to bring them to bear upon the particular question in the most
effective order ; how to argue from facts, or how to use them as illus-
trations, so that he may state his opinions convincingly and keep
to the point; and finally, how to express his meaning concisely,
forcibly, and attractively. The boy who can write an answer with
these characteristics will at any rate have learnt an accomplishment
which will be of value to him in after-life ; but I do not for a moment
pretend that all boys can be taught. The answers of some boys
are always dull ; other boys seem incapable of keeping to the point,
or will, at the end of an answer, arrive at precisely the opposite con-
clusion to that which was intended when they began. Some ate
without any sense of style, others err from excess of it. Some boys,
when they catch sight of any question which does not require a bald
statement of facts, think that if they cover a suffidently large area
of paper with rhetorical and empty sentences they have done all that
is required, and others will narrate facts instead of using them for
argument or illustration. But I think that practice in these ques-
tions always leads to improvement, and that they do provide a valu-
able mental training.
And the questions themselves should show variety. They may
be on constitutional points and require great deamess and accuracy
of statement ; or a comparison or contrast of two reigns or two careers
which require a boy to arrange points of similarity or difference;
or an estimate of the greatness of some statesman or general ; or a
character-sketch ; or an exposition of the causes and results of a par*
ticular policy or a particular war. Of course the time limit of these
questions differs ; a question may require an answer of a quarter of
an hour or an answer of an hour. The Oxford and Cambridge Higher
Certificate Papers generally provide good examples of the former
class. Take, for instance, such questions as these on the Tudors and
Stuarts: Was Henry the Eighth a despot? Contrast the ecdeai-
astical changes under Henry the Eighth with those under Edward
the Sixth. Which made the worse mistakes, the Protector Somerset
or Mary ? How far was the Spanish War under Elizabeth due to
religious differences and how far to commercial and other considera-
tions ? ' The Oreat Rebellion was primarily a religious war.' Discuss
this statement. What made it seem likely at the outbreak of the
C&vil War that the Parliament would soon overpower the Royalists,
and why did this not happen ? Compare the foreign policy of Oliver
Cromwell with that pursued by England under Charles the Second.
Is it your opinion that Cromwell's rule as Protector was marked by
(a) ability, (b) consistency? Give illustrations. Which contained
more points of novelty, the Bill of Rights or the Act of Settiement ?
Some of these are of course hard questions, and would only be suitaUe
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1906 HIST0B7 IN PUBLIC SCHOOLS 595
to boys in the upper forms of sohools ; bat even in the middle and
lower forms questions should always be set which will exercise the
reason as well as the memory.
Again, for boys who are in the highest forms or who are making
history one of their chief subjects, an answer of three-quarters of an
hour is an admirable intellectual exercise. When the division is
quite a small one — some eight or nine — ^it is a good plan for each
boy to read aloud his own answer and for the others to criticise it
at the end ; boys are generally aware of one another's shortcomings,
and some lively discussion is often the result. When the division
is a large one, each boy can exchange his answer with that of his
neighbour and write a criticism upon it. The weak boys improve
from the example of others ; and the slack boy is generally put on
his mettle when he knows the fate in store for his production. Some
of the papers set at the scholarship examinations are good examples
of the type of question required. Take, for instance, such questions
as these from the papers of an Oxford College on ancient history :
Compare Pericles with the younger Pitt. Which did more injury
to Athens, Cleon or Nicias? Illustrate from Oreek history after
413 B.O. the strong and the weak pdnts of the Spartan character.
* Alexander the Great was no mere vulgar conqueror.' Discuss
this view. At what date in Roman history do you suppose there
was most order and prosperity in Italy ? Can Cicero be justly called
the hero of a nation ? Why has the age of the Antonines been deemed
one of the brightest periods in the world's history ? Or on more
modem history : ' The Revolution of 1689 was one of the accidents of
history.' Discuss this view. ^ Louis the Fourteenth was the evil genius
of his time.' Discuss this. Why was the eighteenth century a period
of great Continental wars t Compare and contrast Walpole and the
elder Pitt. ^ The events are great, but the men are very small.' Dis-
cuss this phrase used by Mirabeau of the French Revolution. To
what extent is it true to say that England played the main part in
the struggle against Napoleon? Illustrate fnnn the campaigns of
1797 and 1815 the main principles of Napoleon's strategy.
Again, if one has a keen division and one which is not large, it is
a good plan to choose some book, get some fifty pages read each week,
and set questions upon it. Such books — when the boys have to read
a good deal — should not be burdened with a mass of facts, and should
be stimulating and provocative books, books having decided opinions
which a boy may either attack or support. It is the fashion now to
decry Macaulay, but his Essays are excellent for this purpose ; their
very demerits make them all the more suitable ; and if the teacher
himself is a Tory, there is no danger of Macaulay's prejudices passing
without comment. Boys like the certainty with which Macaulay —
as was said by Leslie Stephen — ^hits a haystack ; not till they are
much older will some of them begin to agree with Matthew Arnold
B B 2
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thai— if the change of metaphor may be excuBed— Macaulay's chief
characteristic is a perpetual semblance of hitting the right nail on
the head without the reality ; and even Matthew Arnold admitted
that Hacaulay is pre-eminently fitted to give pleasure to all who are
beginning to feel enjoyment in the things of the mind. Or a book
may be taken such as Mr. Oman's Seven Roman Stateameny in which
opinions are always forcibly expressed, though professed Roman
historians do not alwajns agree with them.
Besides these questions there are lustorical eaaajs which a boy
does out of school. The looking over of these essays will be found a
severe tax on the teacher's time. Personally^ I am of opinion that
to look over a boy's essay with the boy by your side is much more
expeditious, effective, and interesting than to give the essay back
with written corrections ; one can talk quicker than one can write ;
one can find out how much a boy has read or thought before he wrote
the essay, and the boy is, after aU, obliged to listen to your criticisnis,
whilst he is not obliged to read them. But if a boy takes trouble it
is difficult to look over an essay in under ten minutes or a quarter of
an hour ; and with the large divisions public school masters often
have, this will mount up in the aggregate to many hours. A master,
however, can get over this difficulty by only setting some four or five
essays in each term, and this number is quite sufficient.
In these essays the object should be that a boy may be able to
utiUse the knowledge which he possesses already besides the know-
ledge he may derive from lectures or a text-book. Above aU, it is
through essays that a boy may be introduced to historical classics,
and references to chapters or pages in such books should always be
left in the school library. The subject for the essay should be set so
as to allow of some originality of treatment and of some definite con-
clusion, and to allow some scope for some general reflections either
at the beginning or at the end. For instance, the period may be tiie
Beiudssance and the Reformation. An introductory essay might be,
' Is it true to say that the period of the Renaissance and Reformation
witnessed greater changes than any other period of which we have
any record ? ' Of course no boy will know enough to give an adequate
aiuswer to such a question ; but a boy, if he blows anything about
any other important period, can make up an essay by comparing two
periods only. The next essay might be, ^ Contrast the characteristics
of Venice and Florence at the period of the Renaissance ; how far is
it possible to compare Venice with Sparta, and Florence with Athens ? '
A third might be, 'Compare the characteristics and the influence
of Erasmus and Luther.' And the fourth might be, * Was Gharies
the Fifth a failure ? '
Or again, one may be studying the expansion of England; an
introductory essay might be, 'In what respects does the British
Empire differ from all other Empires of the past ! ' A second, ' Did
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1905 HISTORY IN PUBLIC SCHOOLS 597
England deserve to lose America ? ' A third, ' Compare the work
done by dive, Warren Hastings, and Wellesley in the formation of
our Indian Empire.* A fourth, ' What were the chief developments
in the Empire during the Victorian Era, and what will be the chief
problems which will confront the Empire in the future ? ' In some
of these subjects hints will be necessary from the master as to how
the subject should be treated, but for boys in the highest forms the
fewer hints that are given the better.
And besides this type of essay there is the historical essay prize,
such as exists at most schools, or such as that inaugurated last year
by the Royal Asiatic Society for the encouragement of the study of
Tndian history. A boy who is a candidate for such a prize is left to
his own devices, has to read for the essay on his own account, has to
arrange his material, develop his plot, and arrive at a conclusion
without help from others ; and the training ia a valuable one.
It will be apparent that what has been written in this article
applies rather to the older than to the younger boys in a public school ;
this is due chiefly to the fact that my own experience has been with
the former and not with the latter. But I am also inclined to think
that history cannot be made such a valuable subject with ihe younger
boys as it can be with those of more mature age. I am very far
indeed from thinking that history should be neglected either at the
preparatory school or in the lower forms of public schools ; but its
object should be, perhaps, to stimulate the imagination and to supply
the boy with some elementary information rather than to train the
reason. Probably also geography — taught, of course, not in the old
mechanical way, but according to the methods described, for instance,
in the new journal of the Qeographical Association— ought to play a
much larger part than it does in the lower forms of many schools,
and history might be content with what it has if more time is found
in schools for this kindred subject.
With regard, however, to boys in the higher forms, I think that
with most of them history ought to be an indispensable subject, and
with some one of their chief studies. We may take, first of all, the
case of those boys who are going to the university. There are pro-
bably in every school some boys of real ability who, though they are
fairly proficient with their classical work, have little taste or capacity
for pure scholarship, but considerable interest in and capacity for
history. For this class of boy a most excellent combination exists
at Oxford, though I think that a similar combination is not so easy at
Cambridge. A boy can, without neglecting his classics, find time at
most schools — ^if some exemptions from ordinary school-work are
aUowed — to read a good deal of history during his last two or three
years at school, and to write a variety of historical essays ; and if
he is very promising he can try for a history scholarship or exhibition,
and most colleges offer one or more of these. When he reaches Oxford
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698 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Oct.
he can give up Honour Moderations — which present few attractions
to a boy of the type described — ^get through Pass Moderations in his
second term, and then read for the School of LitersB Humanioies,
which, with its mixture of ancient history and philosophy, is acknow-
ledged to be the best in either university ; and probably the boy who
has combined classics and history at school will have a more mature
mind than the boy who has read classics exclusively, and will there-
fore be able to read for this school at an earlier stage. In the fourtii
year the History School may be taken, when it will be found that the
history training and the knowledge acquired at school will be most
valuable. Such a training will provide — ^for a certain type of mind—
as good an education as any in the world. A few are pursuing it at
Oxford at the present time, and it is to be hoped that in the future
more will follow their example.
Then there are the boys who will read other subjects at the univer-
sity— classics, or science, or law, or modem languages. Probably meet
people would agree that for them some study of modem history is
advisable, for it may be their last chance of reading it, and the practice
in writing essa}^ and in answering questions will be valuable to them,
whatever their future line of study. Besides these, there are others
who are going to read history at Oxford and Cambridge — a large
number, for history is already the most popular subject at Oxford,
and is becoming increasingly popular at Cambridge. For these it is
a great advantage to have some grounding in historical methods and
ideas before they go up to the university, and perhaps for their last
term at school it is wise for the majority of them to make history thdi
principal subject. But, after aU, history will be the staple of their
future study at the university, and they must beware of devoting
too much time to it at school. They had far better combine history
with other subjects — with the study of the classics or of modem
languages, or some form of science, or a combination of these.
A second class consists of those boys who are not going to the
university at all. There are the boys, first, who go into the Army.
For them elementary English history is a compulsory subject for the
Leaving or Qualifying Certificate, and more advanced English history
with a period of European history and a miUtary biography is an
optional subject for the competitive examination. For many boys
going into the Army I believe that history would be the most froitfol
subject they could take up— fruitful, not in marks, but in interests for
their later life ; and it is to be hoped that the prophecy of an eminent
headmaster which I heard expressed at a recent meeting, that prac-
tically no boys would take it up because of the low marking in the
subject, and the more confident prediction of an assistant-master in
the columns of the Times y that no sane boy would take it up, will be
unfulfilled. Then there are the boys who are going into business.
Most people would agree that the boys whose education stops at the
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1906 HISTORY IN PUBLIC SCHOOLS 599
age of eighteen or nineteen ought to be treated differently from those
whose education ends at the age of twenty-two or twenty-three ; and
that in some pubhc schools, at all events, the interests of the former
class are apt to be overlooked. And yet in some ways they are the
more important. After all, most boys when they go to the university
obtain intellectual interests even if they have none at school ; but it
is the boy who goes into business straight from school who is most
loud in proclaiming that he took away from school nothing which
could rouse his intellectual tastes and sympathies. For these bojrs it
seems to me that a special course of studies should be devised for their
last year or two at school, and that in the course opportunities should
be given for bojrs to take up history as one of their main subjects.
I have omitted from this analysis one class of boy ;. the class of boy
who does not want to work, and apparently has no aptitude for any
subject whatsoever — a sort of intellectual tramp, who will trudge
from one subject to another in the hope that it will require a Uttle
less work than the preceding one. I do not think that history pro-
vides an effective casual ward where such people can be dealt with as
they deserve. But, with the wider choice of subjects now given at
most pubhc schools, I believe that the number of boys of this class is
diminJBhing and not increasing ; few things can be more desirable, for
these boys too often grow up to swell the class of rich vagrants, the
class of thoroughly idle, unintelligent, selfish people, whose existence
in any nimibers is, as history shows, always a misfortune and some-
times a disaster for any nation.
It is not within the scope of this article to discuss the fifty-six
questions which were enumerated, with regard to the organisation and
methods of history teaching in schools, in a recent French treatise.
I have merely endeavoured to show that history can and ought to
have an important place in any school curriculum. I expect really
that the vast majority of people would agree that the study of history
is one of the most necessary elements in the education of boys, and for
that matter of girls as well, and that neither in every boys' school
nor in every girls* school does it yet occupy the position which it ought
to possess. If this dissatisfaction will produce reform the future is
rosy; for the pubhc schools have hitherto produced the governing
classes in this country, and if the governing classes of the future
could approach the problems of the Empire with the knowledge and
the judgment and the sympathy produced by an historical training,
the pubUc schools will have done a service to the nation which not
even their most persistent oaviUors could deny.
C. H. K. Marten.
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Tff£ TRIAL OF JESUS'
The appearance of Giovanni Rosadi's Trial of Jesus in its English
version has been eagerly anticipated by those not familiar with the
Italian tongue ; for we were informed that the work was the result
of a precise and exhaustive study of Talmudic literature and of Roman
law as applied to the trial of Jesus Christ. The translator announced
in his Preface that the author was antagonistic to the higher criticism,
the work of ^ sciolists and pedants ' — a work which, as applied to the
Old and New Testaments, ^ has proved an amaring blunder.'
Both these expectations have been disappointed.
In this article we propose to deal only with the actual legal trial
before Pontius Pilate ; and on examination of the book we find this
important and essential division of the subject is disposed of in a few
pages in a single chapter — ^and that without any reference whatever
to MajestaSf the specific charge on which Jesus was arraigned before
Pilate.
In regard to the ^ higher criticism ' we are met by the inconsistency,
on the one hand, of an aping of the forms of that style of criticism,
and, on the other, of a putting forth of baseless tradition as though it
were reliable evidence.
With the view of keeping this article within reasonable limits, we
propose to restrict ourselves to the legal action taken by the Roman
authorities in the trial ; for it is on this point specially that the work
in question falls short of our expectation. Amidst a large amount of
irrelevant and therefore superfluous matter, with some of which we
could readily dispense, the actual legal trial of Jesus Christ before
Pilate is reduced to eleven pages (235-245) — a very small proportion
in a book containing three hundred and thirty pages.
In the Gk)spels the whole record of the legal trial is condensed into
a few verses in the third and fourth Gk)spels (St. Luke xxiii. 1-4 ; St.
John r\dii. 28-38). The other two evangelists have not set down the
actual sentence delivered by Pilate. These few verses, however, of
St. Luke and St. John place before us in a few masterly strokes the
whole scene.
But the arrest of the Lord in Gethsemane was also conducted
under legal forms, as we hope presently to show.
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With theee two subjects, then, let us deali and with them only —
viz. the arrest and the actual trial and sentence. These two we
maintain to have been conducted in due legal form, according to the
provisions of Roman law, as customarily administered in the provinces
in the first century. ^
Thb Arrest
This, says Signer Rosadi, was
ihe execution of an illegal and factious resolution of the Sanhednn. The
intention was simply to seize a man and do away with him. The arrest was
not a preventive measure such as might lawfully precede trial and condemna-
tion : it was an executive act accomplished in view of a sentence to he pro-
nounced without legal justification. (Page 117.)
But surely the local authorities everjrwhere are within their right
in arresting any person whose action is likely to lead to a breach of
the peace ; and this was certainly the fact in the case in question.
Jesus had for some time past been preaching doctrines antagonistic
to those recognised by the ruling powers among the Jews and accepted
by the people at large. He had many times severely reproved the
Pharisees, the popular party ; and He had taught that there should
be a resurrection of the dead, a doctrine which was in conflict with
the tenets of the Sadducees, the party that was in power at that time.
The world had gone after Him. Breaches of the peace had already
occurred — at Nazareth an attempt had been made to cast Him head-
long from the hill : at Jerusalem the Jews had endeavoured to stone
Him : he had proclaimed BUmself king. He had claimed to be the
Messiah, He had even asserted Himself as the great I Am ; and in
view of the vast concourse which had escorted Him on the previous
Sunday across the Mount of Olives, it was judged that danger to the
public peace was imminent. Obviously, apart from the motives
which prompted the act, the ruling powers had ample justification for
the arrest.
And the Sanhedrin possessed full power for the purpose. The
Romans, wise in their generation, like our own Government in India,
allowed the full exercise of judicial functions to subject nations,
provided that no conflict arose with the Roman law itself. In
Jerusalem the Sanhedrin was supreme, saving the rights of the pro-
curator of Caesar, whose official residence was at Csesarea, and who
usually left the high priest in charge of the religious capital of Palestine.
The power of the Sanhedrin was exercised deliberately and in
due form — not tumultuously, but legally. A council, apparently law-
fully convened, was held on the Wednesday, at which were assembled
the chief priests, scribes and elders, and Pharisees. This Council
had decided on the arrest of Jesus with the view of conmiitting Him
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for trial. There was ample warrant for the arrest, according to the
forms of Jewish law.
Further, the arrest was carried into efifect with the co-operation
of the authorities both Jewish and Roman. The Sanhedrin issued
their warrant for the apprehension, and sent the Temple guard to carry
it out. And in order that there might be no failure they took the
precaution of applying to the Roman governor for the assistance of a
military guard.
Now Rosadi (page 119) denies that the Sanhedrin had the power
to issue a warrant for the apprehension of Jesus :
In no case conld the arrest made at Qethsemane proceed from an order
regularly given, for the simple reason that the Sanhedrin had no power to issue
it. As an efifect of the conquest of Palestine the right of inquiry and of arrest
in capital charges was reserved to the conquering power (Bome), and the Jewish
authority could not therefore order the arrest of Jesus, who was charged with a
capital ofifence.
But this was not so. No charge had yet been made; but l^ey
might weU plead fear of a breach of the peace* Besides which the
Jews did really possess the power to take action in criminal cases,
and to inflict punishment, short of passing a death sentence. Hence
the arrest of Jesus as a precautionary measure at Passover time for
the preservation of the peace was strictly within l^eir power.
They took extreme precautions against any interference witii the
execution of their warrant. The arrest was made by night, and in a
secluded place ; for they dreaded a popular rising on behalf of the
prophet of Nazarel^. To make all things sure, a large force of officials,
both Jewish and Roman, was told ofif for the purpose.
These are described contemptuously (page 116) as a ^ rabble,' and
are assumed to be so few in number that when St. Peter made an
attempt at rescue by his assault upon Malchus, Signer Rosadi remarks :
' the resistance might have continued, and victoriously, owing to
the afiEection and confidence animating the Apostles.' But in reality
successful resistance was out of the question, for there were but two
swords against an armed band — or rather two armed bands.
The constitution of this armed band is limited by Rosadi to an
escort obtained by Judas from the chief priests and Pharisees (page
120) ; and, he adds, ' they had no control over the Roman soldiery.'
Of course not. Yet Roman soldiers were present in the garden that
night, as St. John distinctly states ; for he speaks of * a band of soldiers,
and officers from the chief priests and Pharisees.' He distinguishes
between the two bodies who took part in the apprehension of Jesus—
the military force and the civil
The military force was a cohort (airstpa), under the command
of a captain (chiliarch or tribune). The full complement would have
amounted to six hundred men ; but we need not suppose that the
whole force was present, though there were probably more than one
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bundled, or else a oenturion would have sufficed as the commanding
officer.
The civil force consisted o{ officials (apparitors) of the Sanhedrin,
or, as St. Luke more precisely describes them, * captains of the Temple/
i.e. the Temple guard, the Jewish Temple poUce. While the soldiery
were armed with swords and spears {SirXa), the police were provided
with staves or rods, and being now engaged in night work, carried
with them also lanterns and torches.
This was a formidable force — a combination of Jewish and Roman
officials — ^the one body empowered to carry out the orders of the
Sanhedrin, the other to watch proceedings in the background, and to
take action only in the event of any interference with which the
civilians could not cope.
This is made very plain by St. Luke and St. John.
Yet Bosadi denies the official presence of the military, and makes
the absurd suggestion
ihat some Boman soldiers found themselves at Gethsemane on that Thursday
evening, attracted thither by mere curiosity. St. John mentions the officer
who is supposed to be Boman because he and the cohort alleged to have been
his helped the captain and officers of the Jews to bind Jesus. An intervention
arising from mere curiosity would, however, have no judicial value, and would
resolve itself into nothing more than an anecdotic detail of an idle and imagi-
native character. (Page 128.)
The Trial before Pilate
We take this, as well as the arrest, to have been conducted with due
respect to the forms of Boman law as administered in the provinces.
Passing over, as not pertinent to the purpose of this article, the
brief examination or prcBJadiciuin of the case by Annas, the com-
mittal of the Accused for trial by the Sanhedrin, His trial before
Caiaphas, and His unjust and illegal condemnation, we come to the
proceedings before the procurator.
The chief priests, accompanied by a multitude, bring Jesus before
Pilate, and make an attempt to secure a confirmation of their sentence
of death just passed. They hoped to obtain this without delay or
question. But Pilate was an ojQ^cial directly responsible to the
Emperor, and he declines to deliver judgment blindfold ; he insists
on a formal charge being brought against the prisoner. Accordingly
the actual and only legal trial begins.
Bosadi disposes of this, the most important part of the whole
proceedings, in eleven pages (chapter zvii.), limiting himself to a
brief statement of the words of St. John and St. Luke, and making
no reference whatever to the crime of majestas or high treason, into
which the charge ultimately resolved itself.
We do not vindicate the conduct of Pilate, for he allowed himself
to be overborne by the clamour of the priestly party, with the populace
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at their back. We pity this Roman judge, driven hither and thitiiei
for two houis in the face of a fanatical mob thiisting for blood ; we
despise him for his cowardice ; and we consign his name to eternal
infamy for his unjust condemnation of the Innocent.
Yet we must concede that his intention^ at the outset, was to do
justice.
He begins with a demand for a formal charge : ^ What accusation
{/carrjyopla) bring ye against thift Man ! ' This question answers
to the nominia ddatio of the Roman criminal procedure, the next step
being the formal arraignment of the defendant, nomen deferre. Christ's
judges (now become His prosecutors) shelter themselves behind an
evasion : * If this man were not an evil-doer, we should not have
delivered Him up unto thee.' It disturbed and annoyed them that
Pilate should be dealing seriously wil^ the case. They did not want
a recognitio causes, but merely the procurator's assent to the judg-
ment already pronounced by themselves, and his acceptance at their
hands of the Prisoner for capital punishment. But Pilate was inex-
orable. His phrase * What accusation ? ' {rlva /earrjyoplav) was
a technical term of law ; their word ' evil-doer ' or * malefactor ' (A. V.)
was indefinite — KaKoiroios was not a technical term — ^it did not
convey any definite charge of which a Roman judge could take cog-
nisance. Hence Pilate refers them to their own courts, ^ Take Him
yourselves, and judge Him according to your law.' Ordinary male-
factors, whether guilty of felony or misdemeanour, could be tried in
these Courts, and be punished by the scourge, by fine, imprisonment
or ezconmiunication ; it was not necessary to bring such offenders
before the Roman bench. * But,' they reply, * He is guilty of death,'
and * it is not lawful for us to put any man to death.'
The prosecutors have claimed capital punishment. This deter-
mines Pilate to take the case into his own hands. As a Roman,
imbued with a respect for law and order, he will not send to execution
even a Galilean peasant without some evidence of his guilt. The
previous proceedings he treats as null and void, and he enters upon a
recognUio causes ; tiie trial begins de novo ; he insists upon a formal
charge of l^e commission of some actual crime, some breach of Roman
law.
Thus pressed, the Jews present an indictment with three counts :
We found this man
Perverting our nation ;
Forbidding to give tribute to Csesar ;
Saying that He Himself is Christ a king.
This is the accusatio, the criminis ddatio.
Pilate, in his official capacity as Governor of Judaea, was accus-
tomed to take his seat on the bench and decide points of law ; and
with that familiarity wil^ legal procedure which brings the faculty
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of rafad decision^ he quickly Fevolves the three charges in his mind,
and at once fixes on the third.
The first charge, that of perverting the nation, was void by reason
of vagueness, unless substantiated by evidence of some overt act.
The second, that of forbidding to give tribute to Caesar, was false.
The loyalty of the Accused was beyond suspicion. Both at Caper-
naum and at Jerusalem He had been accustomed to pay all legal
dues.
The third charge, however, was one which it was impossible to
ignore, for it alleged a crime — the crime of majestas or high treason —
the most serious offence which it was possible to commit.
This offence, anciently known as perduetUo, was at this time termed
crimen Ubscb majestatis, and comprised any act injurious to the sovereign
power of the Roman State. Under the Republic the offence was
alleged as committed^against the Senate and the Roman people.
Under the Empire the laws de majestate were extended to the person
of the Emperor, who was regarded as uniting in himself all the offices
of the ancient Republic.
At the time of the Crucifixion Tiberius was living in retirement
in the island of Capri, indulging in infamous lusts, and leaving the
government of the Empire to iElius Sejanus, who worked the laws
ie majestate in such oppressive fashion that no one was safe from
prosecution* ,
A charge, therefore, involving high treason against the Emperor
was one which it was impossible to overlook. Accordingly Pilate,
as St. John relates, ^ entered again into the palace, and ccMl Jesus.'
This seems to be the process called eitatio. In Rome and in the
provinces this office was performed by the prcBco or crier, and the
examination was conducted by the qucBstor. But Pilate, being only
a procurator and not an imperial legate, has no qucBstor, and therefore
examines the Accused in person. In Roman law this step is the
wUrrogatio.
Pilate asks * Art Thou the Eang of the Jews ? ' The true answer
to this question depended upon the sense in which the word * King '
was used. Hence the reply of Jesus, ' Sayest thou this of thyself ? '
%.e. Is it your own question as Roman governor of Judcea, representa-
tive of the Emperor ? * Or did others tell it thee concerning Me ? '
i.e. Is the question prompted by the Jewish priests ? If the first,
then Jesus was innocent; if the second, then He was guilty; for
while He disavowed high treason against Csesar, He claimed, as
against the Jews, to be the Son of Gk>d, the Eing of the Jews.
From this answer Pilate sees plainly that the question in dispute
between the prosecutors and the Accused was a matter that concerned
merely the law of Moses—it was an ecclesiastical cause which the
chief priests could decide for themselves ; but as the crime of majestas
had been formally alleged, Pilate feels himself bound to continue the
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examination of the Prisoner. * What hast Thou done ? ' What
defence do 70a set up ?
Our Lord's defence amounts to what the English law defines as
* Confession and Avoidance.' Confession : * Thou sajest it ; because
I am a King.' Avoidance : ' But M7 Kingdom is not of this worid.'
Now Pilate understands the whole question. The kingdom
claimed by Jesus of Nazareth is a spiritual kingdom, an empire in the
clouds ; the claimant is a religious enthusiast, a Jewish fanatic ; He
is no rebel ; the charge of high treason has not been sustained. The
Prisoner is innocent.
Pontius Pilate comes forth from the Pr»torium and faces the
accusers and the populace. He pronounces a sentence of acquittal ;
* I find no crime in Him.'
Of the justice of his sentence he is so certain that he announces it
three times (St. John zviii. 38 ; ziz. 4, 6). The trial is at an end — ^the
Prisoner should have been released from bonds, and the Court ought
to have been cleared.
With the rest of the proceedings this article does not deal ; they
were a series of irregularities and Ulegalities. The trial of Jesus ends
with the sentence of acquittal
But Signor Boeadi treats these after proceedings as though they
formed part of the trial, and conmients thus upon the whole case :
' That He was tried cannot be said, for who were His judges, and
when did they judge Him ? Not they of the Sanhedrin, for they
had not the power, nor did they claim it. Not by the Boman magistrate
in the Praetorium, who heard no single word of evidence, sought not
a single proof, weighed not a single pleading, observed not a single
form* (p^o 296). Again (page 301) 'Not one of the simple and
rational forms of the Boman trial was observed in condemning a
prisoner to death. . . • There was in fact no sentence.'
If Giovanni Bosadi's Trud of Jesus is to become a work of perma-
nent value — ^if it is to be regarded as justifying the flattering criticism
that it displays 'an intimate knowledge of both Jewish law and
Boman law/ it seems advisable that it should be, in parts, subjected
to revisioa
Septimus Buss.
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AN INDIAN RETROSPECT AND
SOME COMMENTS
In a leoent mnclL-oriticised speech Lord Caizon took occasion to
observe tliat * public opinion in order to exercise a vivifying and
steadying influence must be suggestive.' Public opinion in India,
as in most other countries, must always be the opinion of her educated
classes, who, happUy, as time goes on and they become better informed,
evince a more accurate appreciation of the motives and actions of
Grovemment. Unfortunately, owing to the peculiar conditions of
the country, in matters affecting the different communities there is
great divergence of opinion, although on general questions the uni-
formity is surprising.
Naturally ' pubUc opinion,' in so much as it professes to be the
opinion of the general pubUc, is not so effective and does not carry
the same weight as it would otherwise, were the nationaUties of India
more homogeneous or more willing to approach special interests in a
spirit of compromise. Under these circumstances the standpoint of
an independent observer is often of greater value.
Twenty-five years ago I offered to the pubUc in the columns of
this Review ' Some Indian Suggestions for India,' which attracted
at the tune a certain amount of notice from the authorities here, and
which even the Indian Government did not think unworthy of con-
sideration. Many of these suggestions have since been translated
into fact, and the country has unquestionably made considerable
progress within this period on the lines then forecasted.
A glance at the work done and an attempt to indicate the points
which still require reform or improvement will not, I imagine, be
without interest at a juncture when the consolidation of the Empire
appears to be a subject of moment, or wanting in that quaUty of
* suggestiveness ' which makes criticism useful.
To judge of the change that has come over the spirit of the ad-
ministration one has only to look half a century or so back. In 1844
an English writer in the QnlkiuXta Review pronounced that ' exposure
of evil was the prevailing horror of the Anglo-Indian Government.'
This failing can hardly be attributed nowadays either to the Govern-
ment of India or the provincial Governments, for they often invite
607
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moderate and reasonable criticism, and do not allow themselves to be
over-ruffled when it is neither the one nor the other. This in itself
is an advance which cannot be too highly estimated.
One of the severest indictments framed against the system in force
in the middle of the last centnry was by Sir Henry Layard, traveller,
statesman, and diplomatist. Joomejdng in India in 1858, whilst the
Mutiny was still unsuppressed, he described the East India Company's
rule in words which deserve quoting. * We have done nothing,' he
said, *to form a bond of sympathy or to create mutual interests.
The people we govern are treated like a distinct race inferior to us.
They are excluded from all share of government, they can never
rise to anything beyond inferior posts. . . . Under it money-lenders
. . . make their fortunes and enjoy them ; but the cultivators are
reduced to the utmost poverty, our rule having utterly destro}red
the native gentry.'
It is a startling thing to say, but it is nevertheless a fact, that
from the horrors of the Mutiny came the salvation both of England
and India. The downfall of the Company's rSgime and the assimip-
tion of the government by the Crown, with the proclamation which
ushered it in, marked an unprecedented awakening in the political
conscience of a dominant nation ; for England then began to realise
her obligations and responsibilities towards the inhabitants of her
great dependency, whose safety is now recognised as essential to her
own existence as a world-Power. The new system of administration
proceeded on different principles, and was based on an equality of
rights among all the subjects of a common sovereign.
Twenty-two years later, when I placed my ^ Suggestions ' before
the public, this recognition had already borne substantial fruit. Offices
of emolument and trust had been tentatively opened to the natives
of India ; they were represented in the councils of GU>vemment, and
greater regard was paid to their opinions and feelings on pubUc
questions.
The legislation during this period— between 1858 and 1880— save
in one respect, had all an ameUorating tendency. The one exception
relates to the exaction of Government dues, of which more further on.
Since 1880 the country has witnessed still greater changes. In the
face of these facts it would be absurd to say the Indian Government
has not kept in view the principles and pledges of the Queen's Pro-
clamation. The hand moves slowly, sometimes too slowly, the
pendulum oscillates backwards and forwards, but the ultimate trend
is in the direction of improvement. Naturally the slow progress
does not evoke much gratulation among the educated classes, and
the desire to keep them indefinitely in sMu pupHlari is regarded with
more than impatience.
Among the subjects to which I had drawn attention in 1880 were
the bankrupt condition of Indian finances, the stringency of the
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1906 AN INDIAN BETB08PECT 609
revenue laws, and the necessity of improving the status of the peasantry
of Bengal and of broadening the Councils. The advance in these
directions is most striking.
Public revenues have augmented within the last decade by several
millions ; instead of a hopeless deficit there is a real surplus, and that
without any substantial retrenchment, and in spite of the creation
of new departments. The salt tax, on the onerous nature of which
I had ventured to dwell at some length, has been appreciably reduced.
Although a part of this prosperity is no doubt due to a somewhat
uncertain factor, namely, the price of opium, it must be ungrudgingly
acknowledged that the financial outlook at present is most favourable.
Nor can it be denied that, generally speaking, the resources of India
during the last twenty-five years have been carefully husbanded and
often strenuously safeguarded, whilst the strong attitude taken up
against dragging her into the vortex of the fiscal controversy raging
in England shows that her interests will not be allowed to be sacrificed
on the altar of ^ imperial ' policy.
The improvement of the police, which stUl forms a serious blot on
British Indian administration, has been taken in hand ; a department
of commerce has been inaugurated from which great hopes are enter-
tained for the country; whilst the establishment of a model farm
and an agricultural college in the province of Behar is an indication
of growing interest in the scientific development of that industry on
which the prosperity of India as a whole mainly depends. And
the comparatively recent appointments of Inspector-Greneral and
Directors of Agriculture point to the same conclusion. When
one compares the meagre work performed so far by the Indian
Government bureau in promoting agriculture with that done by
similar departments in other countries the contrast does seem remark-
able. In the United States the Department of Agriculture collects
valuable information from all sides, relating to the cultivation of land,
the products suitable for different kinds of soil and the best method
of increasing its productiveness, and distributes it freely among all
classes. It is to be hoped that under the new system the agricidtural
prosperity of India will become an object of solicitude with all classes.
As regards taxation, although its general incidence remains un-
altered, in many respects considerable relaxation has been afforded
to the tax-paying public. Similarly one observes with gratification the
attempt recently made * to free the land revenue administration from
the evils of excessive rigidity,' and ^ to introduce in its stead an elasticity
sufficient to ensure in times of agricultural calamity that the burdens
of the cultivating classes shoidd not be aggravated by any unreasonable
inmstence on the demands of Government.'
The resolution enunciates an admirable precept, but in the absence
of some modification in the law it is permissible to doubt if it will
lead to any practical result. Evidently the full effect of the revenue
Vol. LVIII— No. 344 S S
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policy of 1859 is not sufficiently realised. I therefore venture to quote
my remarks on this subject in 1880 :
The rigour with whioh the land tax is exacted all over India, regardless of
all queetions of droughts and floods, bad or good harvests, has conduced to no
small extent to the present impoverishment of the comitry. In those parts
where the permanent settlement is in force the mle of law is, that in case of a
de&ult committed by a zemindar in the payment of the jamma^ or tax, by the
sunset of a day fixed, his estate is liable to be sold by public auction. The
strict enforcement of this peculiarly harsh rule has acquired for it the popular
designation of the ' Sunset Law.* Anyone who has ever had to deal with its
practical working must be aware of the numberless cases of ruin and beggary
which have been occasioned thereby, and the infinite amoxmt of trouble it causes
to many. • • . A simple direction from the Board of Bevenue to the revenue
collectors against t he strict enforcement of this law, even if it should be con-
sidered advisable to retain it on the statute book, may in some degree benefit
the people.
A few years ago departmental rules alone might have been sufficient
for the purpose of amelioration, but matters have now become distinctly
serious. If the realisation of land revenue, irrespective of every
consideration of hardship, be not the sole object of revenue adminis-
tration, if the prosperity of the agricultural and landowning classes
be a primary matter for the attention of Gbvermnent, in that case
some further and more effective measure to relax the stringency of
the revenue laws seems imperative.
As regards the peasantry of Bengal, the Act of 1885 effected a
considerable improvement in their status and condition. But the
warning which I gave in 1880, and which I repeated in Council when
the measure was under discussion, passed unheeded. ^The time,'
I had said, * seems to have arrived when the Indian Government
-shoidd make up its mind, in spite of the opposition evinced in certain
quarters, to confer transferable rights on the ryots holding occupancy
•tenancies. Care should, however, be taken to prevent the peasantiy
from being bought out, or swamped by speculative vakeels or greedy
bunniahs.' And this is exactiy what has happened. In many
districts the occupancy holders of 1885 have ceased to exist ; their
Jioldings have passed into the hands of money-lenders, or mokhtears,
whilst they themselves have become degraded to the condition of
^ labouring cultivators,' which is a euphemism for ser&.
Again, for an alien Government like the British, the existence of
a stable, propertied dass whose interests are bound up with its dura-
bility and permanence is of vital importance. The necessity, there-
fore, of taldng legislative measures for the protection of such a dass
from the inroads of usurers and money-lenders seems obvious. In
Bengal, the zemindars witii whom Lord Comwallis made the Permanent
Settlement in 1793 soon disappeared, and their places were taken by
their servants or by the ministerial officers of the Revenue Courts.
The reason of this dib&ck is a matter of history. These, again, have
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made way for modem money-lenders. Under the existing system
there is no stability whatsoever. Families rise to affluence in one
generation, in the next they are paupers. In one district alone, in
the course of forty years, four families have followed each other in
rapid succession in the possession of the same estate. And this is
not confined to Bengal. The same process of continuous destruction
goes on wherever there is no restriction on the alienability of land. No
one, I think, would contend that the present condition of things is con-
ducive to tiie benefit of Government.
The introduction into India of the principle relating to freedom
of contracts without any restriction or qualification, and without any
consideration of tiie peculiar conditions of tiie country, has been of
the greatest disservice to the people. In India, neither education nor
inteUigenoe is by any means uniform ; the ignorant peasant is hardly
able to cope on equal terms witii the astute bunniah, or the ill-informed
zemindar with the clever mahajan. The disastrous consequences of
a rule which has not been successful even in England can easily be
imagined. < I
The reasons which led to the enactment of the Punjab Land
AUenation Act apply with equal force throughout India; and its
poKcy may be extended, with great advantage to the people as well
as to the Government, to other parts of the country. But in case it
may not be considered expedient to introduce a measure of that kind
in provinces where the conditions are not similar to those in the
Punjab, I would strongly urge that the civil courts should be vested
with a discretionary jurisdiction to refuse to put up land to sale in
execution either of a decree on a mortgage or of a simple money
decree. The property might be placed in the hands of a receiver for
the realisation of the debt from its rents and issues ; but it should not
be sold, unless both creditor and debtor are in accord on the matter.
The su^estion does not aim at the absolute prohibition of ab'enability ;
its only object is to prevent a saletn invkum. As orders of the nature
suggested would be subject to revision by tiie Appellate Court, there
need be no apprehension of an arbitrary exercise of the power to the
detriment of any interest. It may be said that such a provision will
have the effect of lowering the value of land. The same argument,
among others, was advanced against the Punjab Land Alienation
Act, but wise statesmanship prevailed against legal quibbles and class
interests. If the suggestion is accepted, the own^, of course, would
be able to borrow less, and the lender would be willing to advance
less. But would either be a loser thereby in the end ? The measure
would have this beneficial tendency that the land would remain in
the same family for generations, and the feeling of security this would
engender would give rise to a true spirit of loyalty and a real interest
in the development of their property. I remember (me instance
where the Government of India, by an executive order, set aside a
• • 2
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612 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Oct.
sale, the effect of which would have been to render homelees a large
body of proprietors in the Upper Provinoea who had held the land for
generations.^ There seems no reason why the principle acted upon in
that case should not receive legislative recognition.
At one time the Government made special grants of land to
Sepoys of the Indian Army by way of reward for meritorious services.
They were meant as permanent provision for the soldiers' families,
and under the name of English jageers (in contradistinction to tiie
old Mogul grants) existed principally in the district of Shahabad,
whence the Company's Sepoys were mostly drawn. After the death
of the original grantees, there being no restriction on alienabiUty, the
lands soon passed into the hands of money-lenders ; and this was one
of the chief causes of the rising in that district.
I would also suggest that the civil courts should be empowered
to go behind contracts, and either to refuse to give them effect, or to
vary them if upon inquiry they are found to be unconscionable or
harsh. This rule has been lately introduced in England. A similar
measure seems to me to be urgently needed in India.
In deaUng with the causes which lead to the pauperisation of the
aiSuent classes in India, I had omitted to notice one &ct, which did
not strike me so forcibly then as it does now after an experience of
twenty-five years. It is the harassing Utigation in which Indian
families become involved at some time or other, and from which they
rarely emerge without total or partial ruin. It is an evil that has
grown up under British rule, it is fostered by British laws and institu-
tions. An imperative duty, therefore, seems to rest on the Britisli
Qovemment to provide some remedy for it.
In most families, the servants, be they agents, stewards, or clerks,
find it their interest to foment disputes, and to instigate tiie members
to carry their quarrels into courts of justice. Outside stand lawyers
of all grades to conduct their cases, and the mahajan to supply them
with funds. Wealth soon changes hands, and the rich man of to-day
is the pauper of to-morrow. Can any man with the well-being of the
country at heart view with complacency this disastrous state of
affairs?
It must not be forgotten that whilst in England, besides law, there
are other avenues which lead to wealtii and distinction, in India, from
the circumstances of the British rule, there is practically only one
profession in which the rewards are worth striving for. It is not sur-
prising, therefore, that English education has turned all the natiomil
energy and intelligence into one groove. The profession of law has
thus outgrown the requirements of the country. "V^thin the last
twenty-five years, as trade and commerce have developed, anew class
of cases, which were practically unknown before, has sprung up,
especially in the chief centres of population. These cases are certain
* This was in 1874, daring Lord Northbrook's vioeroyalty.
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1905 AN INDIAN BETEOSPECT 618
to increase in number, and will in time draw to themselves the talent
and application of the l^al classes. Litigation likely to cause the
disruption of famiUes will cease to be the sole occupation of those who
at present, wiUingly or unwillingly, devote their time and labour to
steer it through many channels, and the Oovemment can safely,
without fear of raising an outcry, take steps to minimise the evil.
If courts of arbitration, as in olden times, composed of the most
respected members of the native communities, were established for
the adjudication of family disputes, and the ordinary courts of justice
were to discourage such disputes from being dragged before them,
an inestimable boon would be conferred on the people.
In the case of large estates a great deal may be done by the head
of the district or of the province. In a country like India such action
is invariably welcomed by the people, and should be taken without
hesitancy, and without the slightest fear of wounding susceptibiUties
or rousing the hostile criticism of any section or class. In a notable
instance the interference of the then Lieutenant-Governor was the
means of saving a large estate from destruction, and the family from
ruin.
In this connection I should like again to call attention to the
tax on justice in the shape of court fees, which enables the rich Utigant
to harass his less-favoured opponent with comparative impunity,
and which in numerous cases prevents the poorer classes from seeking
redress in courts of law. The stamp duties levied on civil Utigation
enable the Grovemment not only to meet the entire cost of judicial
administration throughout the country, but also to make an annual
profit of 62 lakhs of rupees (over 400,0001.). If any reason of State
not clear to an outsider stands in the way of abolishing this anoma-
lous tax, I would suggest that some portion of the surplus might be
utilised for the purpose of improving the judicial branches of the
public service, which certainly need strengthening and improvement
in the matter of emolument and prestige. The administration of
justice is the strongest feature of British rule, and forms, in many
respects, its greatest claim to the loyalty of the general population.
No means therefore, I submit, should be neglected to enhance its
efficiency. A great step in this direction would be gained if district
judgeships, instead of being reserved exclusively for members of the
Civil Service, were thrown open to barristers of standing and ex-
perience.
The Councils, to use the official phraseology, have been ^ enlarged,'
the element of election, although within narrow limits, has been intro-
duced, the right of interpellation has been given to the non-official
members, whilst the practice of indicating the general poUcy of Govern-
ment, on certain occasions, affords &ciUties for calling the attention
of the authorities to matters of real grievance which otherwise would
either escape notice or be left to irresponsible journalists to ventilate.
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In 1880 there were only two Indians on the Vioeiegal Coundl.
Now there are six. Three, if I mistake not, are nominated, whikt
the otiier three are elected by the Provincial Councils. In these also
there has been a proportionate increase of Indians, whilst the prindple
of election has received a larger recognition. A recent critic of Lord
Curzon's policy has said that the elected members in the Legislative
Councils ' sit there merely to play the part of the chorus in a Greek
tragedy.' This criticism, however trenchant, is hardly just. The
part of the elected members, it is true, is small, but it is certainly
not unimportant, for their interpellations and speeches serve to
indicate the trend of educated public opinion. The Councils oontun
great possibilities of development, and will probably in time become
tnmsformed into fairly representative bodies. But for that con-
summation several elements are needed : not merely a larger appre-
ciation on the part of the rulers of the altered conditions of India,
but also a generally broader conception of dvic duties among the
educated classes, and mutual toleration and a spirit of compromise
among the difierent communities.
The question of education has during the period under review
occupied a large share of attention. Primary education has received
generous help, whilst a new scheme has been formulated for giving
the State a certain control over the university system. Although
the change recentiy initiated has been severely criticised in many
quarters, it is much too early to predicate with any certainty its
probable consequences. To an unbiassed observer some modification
was inevitable ; public interest had in many instances been so sub-
ordinated to extraneous and irrelevant considerations, that an
attempt on the part of Government to obtain a more effective control
over the higher education of Indian youth had become almost certain.
At the same time it is difficidt not to have some sympathy with the
general opinion that the preponderance of the official element among
the governing bodies of the universities is a measure of doubtful
expediency. Personally I think it a mistake to endeavour to educate
the youth of the different nationalities of India according to one
uniform method. The difference in their ideals, religious standards,
and ethical needs mi^es the task of maintaining the line of advance
at an even pace for all the conmiunities well-nigh impossible. For this
reason I have consistently advocated denominational universities,
and suggested that the Hindoos, Mahommedans and ChristianB
should be educated and trained according to their own ethical stan-
dards, the Government if necessary laying down certain rules for
'hall-marking' the products of these universities for purposes of
State-employment. As each community possesses sufficient nucleus
for starting denominational universities, no real difficulty stands
i^ the way of giving effect to the suggestion, and I believe tiiat
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1905 AN INDIAN BETB08PECT 616
before many years are over the idea will foroe itself on public
attention.
The machinery with which the Government of India oarries on
its legislative work is of great importance to the people, and they
naturally take exceptional interest in its constitution. The Legis-
lative Department, as a general rule, is presided over by an English
lawyer of eminence, who starts upon his duties with very UtUe know-
ledge of India, of her people or her institutions. By the time he
begins to gain a workable insight into these necessary elements of
useful legislation his term of service expires, and he makes room for
some one else equally able and eminent, but equally unacquainted
with the country and its requirements. No amount of outside
* coaching * can, under the circumstances, compensate for the deficiency
in that essential requisite. The plain course would be, to have at
the head of the department a trained lawyer of wide Indian experience,
who would bring to his task the combined knowledge of English law
and Indian institutions. But in the multiplicity of interests the
plain course is almost always the last course wMch a Glovemment
is disposed to take.
The larger employment of the natives of the country in the higher
departments of administration is the subject of perennial discussion
and constant heart-burning. In 1880 I had ventured to make in
this connection certain suggestions which a few years later assumed
a practical shape. Since the recommendations of the PubUc Service
CommiBsion one or two of the higher administrative posts have been
opened to Indians. Naturally the educated classes are not satisfied
with the advance in this direction. It becomes necessary, therefore,
to try to understand from their p<»nt of view the real cause at the
bottom of this feeling. I may observe here parenthetically that I
am not one of those who think that Home Rule for India is within
the range of practical politics— certainly not for many years to come ;
even if the Indian nationaUties had attained a degree of solidarity
sufficient to make self-government possible, the outside conditions
are such as to make the idea seem almost insane, for her safety
from foreign aggression in the present condition of the world Ues
in her connection with England. And if England is to guard her
against foreign encroachment and outside ambition, and assist
her in developing her resources and directing the energies of her
peoples in the channel of modem progress and eventual unification,
Englishmen, soldier and civilian, who give her their services must
receive due remuneration for their labour. Nor can anyone expect that
England, to use the famous phrase of the Arab conqueror of Egjrpt,
^ should hold the horns of the cow while somebody else milks it.'
Having so far indicated the Englishman's point of view, I now
proceed to state the case on the other side. However stationary
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616 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Oct
Indian civilisation may be, the civilised nationalities of India are
not behind any Western race in adaptability for progress. In the
process of adaptation through which they have been passing under
British rule there has been much suffering, the history of which remains
yet to be told. Families have been swept away, old institutions
have disappeared leaving gaps still to be filled, but they have now
reached a stage when it would be idle to hope the country can much
longer be governed on the assumption of racial inferiority. Nothing
surprises one so much as the light-heartedness with which some
Englishmen talk of British rule never becoming popular in India,
and the surprise increases when we consider the adulation that is
paid to the Colonies. British rule certainly is not popular— that,
however, is not the fault of the people ; they recognise generally that
its permanence is vitally essential to their well-being. But races
with a great past behind them can hardly brook to be kept for ever
in tutelage, or assent without demur to be stamped permanently
with the mark of inferiority. Considering the value of India to
England, I think it behoves every Englishman to try to make the rule
of England popular, and to evoke that spirit of ' manly comrade-
ship ' to which reference was made the other day at Cambridge by a
distinguished Anglo-Indian.
As English education advances, as qualified and deserving Indians
for the service of the State, according to the present standard, increase
in number, and as they understand ^ those principles of justice and
equity which have made the British constitution an example to the
world,' the claim to a larger share of offices of trust and emolument
— certainly to a larger recognition of eligibiUty — ^will become more
insistent. And wise statesmanship and the interests of good govern-
ment will compel attention to such claim.
In saying this I must not be supposed to advocate the exclusion
of Englishmen from any branch of the pubUc service in favour of
Indians, for I consider the existence of EngUshmen in the different
grades of the official hierarchy^ apart from any question of effidency,
as conducive to the maintenance of a wholesome influence on the
general morale of the administration. And it is for this reason that
I deprecate the growing depletion of the English element at the Bar
in India. But what I do advocate is that Indians of undoubted merit
and abihty, of integrity and character, should not be debarred from
any office under the State ; that no place under Grovemment should
be regarded as the peculiar monopoly of any race ; and that no dis-
tinction should be made in the matter of State patronage on racial
grounds. The British Government which stands foremost to-day
in the profession of the principles of toleration, equity, and justice,
should not in their appUcation be behind the former rulers of India.
Under the Mahonmiedan rule a Hindoo could rise to any position in
the State ; in the chief Mahommedan principality of modem India
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1905 AN INDIAN BETB08PECT 617
a Hindoo holds the office of prime^minister. The Hindoo principality
of Jeypoor, I understand, emploTS a Mahommedan in the same capacity.
Xurkey and Persia send their Christian subjects as envoys to foreign
States. There is no reason why the British Qovemment should allow
itself to appear as less liberal or less advanced than any Oriental Grovern-
ment. As regards the unfitness of Indians generally for certain
offices, it is one of those convenient theories by which vested interests
try to protect themselves from outside invasion. Neither the Indian
Grovemment nor the Government at home would be a loser by utilising
the services or the counsels of competent Indians.
I have reserved to the last the Mahonmiedan question, which,
to my mind, forms to-day, as it did twenty-five years ago, by far the
most pressing problem of Indian administration. The Mahonmiedans
constitute without exception one of the most loyal nationalities of
India. They feel that their moral and social regeneration, their
educational awakening, their material development depend on the
stability of British rule. The very circumstance that the British
Grovemment is non-Moslem, and is consequently obliged to maintain,
in spite of a somewhat nervous dread of the so-called ^orthodox'
party, a neutral attitude towards the different sections, is regarded
as a strong factox* in the advancement of the people. At this moment
seventy miUions of Mussidmans acknowledge the sway of His Majesty.
In another quarter of a century, at the rate at which their faith is
spreading, the number will amount to considerably more. This
important conmiunity — as history goes probably the most important
only a short time ago — has suffered the most under British rule. It
has steadily decUned in wealth, prosperity, influence, and all the
elements which conduce to development and progress, and yet there
is no indication of a stop in the process of declension. The causes
of this deplorable state of things were traced by me in an article which
I contributed to this Review in 1882.- On the materials contained
in that paper the Cientral National Mahonmiedan Association, of
which I was secretary at the time, presented in 1883 a memorial to
the Indian Government. This memorial was finally dealt with by
Lord Dufferin in 1886, and the conclusions arrived at were embodied
in a resolution which is regarded by the Mahonmiedans of India * as
their Magna Charta.' But class interests in that coimtry are strong ;
and the Mussulman generally is not an adept in the art of ingratiating
himself with the official classes. Nor does he possess the means of
making his voice heard in powerful quarters. The very fact that he
has so far stood aloof from political agitations has caused him a dis-
service. As a consequence, preferment and honours rarely come his way.
In spite of the progress in English education made within the last
quarter of a century, their share of public offices is neither com-
' In the August number. The article was headed 'A Cry from the Indian
Mahommedans.'
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618 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Oct.
parable to their numbers nor to their legitimate aspirations. If the
Government of India were to insist on a stnot compliance on the
part of the local authoritieB with the principles and provisions of
Lord DufEerin's resolution, it would contribute to a material improve-
ment in their position.
But the Mahommedan problem cannot be solved by meiely giving
them a few more posts under Qovemment. Their ruin as a prosperous
and progressive community is due to far deeper causes, and needs
far more serious remedies. It b^^an with the confiscations of ihe
Inam Commission in the early part of the nineteenth century; it
has been completed by the recent pronouncements of British courts
of justice upsetting one of iheir most cherished institutions, which
is interwoven with their entire religious and social Ufe, and on which
rests the whole fabric of their prosperity as a people.
Under the law of inheritance prevailing among the Uahommedans,
the property of a deceased person is Uable to be divided among a
numerous body of heirs. An unqualified appUcation of tins rule
would mean the absolute pauperisation, within a short space of time,
of Mahonmiedan famiUes, and prove utterly subversive of national
and individual well-being. No permanent benefaction nor the con-
tinued existence of family influmce or prestige, without which progress
is out of question, would be possible. Accordingly, it was ordained
by the Lawgiver of Islam that a Mahommedan may lawfully * tie-up '
his property, and render it inalienable and non-heritable by devoting
it to pious purposes, or, to use the language of Mahommedan lawyers,
* by dedicating it to the service of Gk)d, so that it may be of beoiefit
to mankind.' This is the well-known rule of tpakf, universally recog-
nised and acted upon throughout the Mahommedan worid. The
endower is entitled to designate any pious purpose or purposes to
which it may be appUed ; and either to constitute himself the trustee
or appoint any other person. Now, the Mussulman law dedares
in the most emphatic terms that charity to one's kith and kin is the
highest act of merit, and a provision for one's family and descendants,
to prevent their -falling into indigence, the greatest act of charity.
Accordingly, family benefactions, or wakfs^ providing for the main-
tenance and support of the donor's descendants, either as the sole
beneficiaries or in conjunction with other pious objects, have existed
for the last thirteen centuries, and all sects and schools are unanimonB
in upholding their validity. The institution is traced to the Prophet
himself, who created a benefaction for the support of his daughter
and her descendants, and is, in fact, placed in the same category as
a dedication to a mosque. As perpetuity is essential to a lawful waift
when it is made in favour of descendants it is often expressly provided
that on their extinction the benefaction would be for the poor. But
even when there is no such provision the law presumes that the
poor are the ultimate beneficiaries. When the dedication is initially
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1906 AN INDIAN BETBOSPEOT 619
for the maintenanoe of descendants, provision is invariably made for
other pious purposes, such as the support of religious worship, per-
formance of religious ceremonies, and the upkeep of schools and
hospitals. From this it will be seen how utterly uncongenial, if not
incomprehensible, the Mussulman law of wakf must be to an English
lawyer. Perpetuity is the essence of a Mussulman dedication or wakf ;
perpetuities are abhorred by English law, and any settlement which
savours of it is bad on that ground. Charity to kith and kin is the
pivot round which revolves the religious and sodal Ufe of the Mahom-
medan, and is one of the most pious of purposes to which he may
consecrate his worldly goods. To an ordinary English mind, remem-
bering the phrase * charity begins at home,' it is a matter of ridicule ;
and to an English lawyer it has an appearance of fraud.
In India numbers of Mahonmiedan famiUes owed to the institution
of wakf their existence, wealth, and influence which preserved the
properties from disintegration and division, and protected them
from the hands of money-lenders. They maintained places of worship,
supported schools and dispensaries, and afforded material help to
Government in times of stress and difficulty.
The validity of family benefactions was accepted by the British
courts of justice until recent times, and eminent judges, Uke Sir
Edward B}ran and others, gave it emphatic recognition. But the
knowledge or appreciation of Mahommedan law became rarer and
rarer as we approached the 'eighties, and the fetish of the English
rule against perpetuities loomed bigger and bigger in the judicial
mind. The money-lender, who sits at the gate of every prosperous
&mily, watched his opportunity ; whilst the vakeel saw a rich harvest
before him ready for his legal scythe. The younger members of the
Mahommedan family pledged their right of maintenance to the mahajan,
who, on failure of repayment at the proper time, brought the inevitable
action to set aside the dedication, and have the shiure of the debtor
ascertained and sold for his debt.
The High Court considered that, not only was he entitied to his
money, but that the benefaction was liable to be set aside as con-
travening the English rule against perpetuities ! The matter came up
on appeal, and the Privy Council, differing from the lawyers of Islam,
who have upheld the validity of family benefactions for many centuries,
considered the Mussulman Lawgiver could hardly have intended
that a valid dedication could be made for the endower's descendants
under the name of wakf, when no charity was in reality contemplated.
It is clear that the whole difference arises from the use of the word
* charity * in the English and not in the Mahommedan sense. The
effect of this ruling, which has naturally caused great alarm, not to
say resentment, throughout Mahommedan India, has been most
disastrous. It has abeady swept away many Mahommedan families^
whilst the few still intact are in a state of jeopardy. But what ia
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most deplorable is that in pronouncing against famil7 endowments
the courts of justice have also invalidated the provisions for auxiliary
pious purposes.
The only way out of this impasse — ^the only way in fact by which
the further impoverishment and decadence of the Mussulman people
can be stopped — ^is for the Legislature, in their interests as well as
in the interest of the State, to validate by special enactment this
particular branch of the Islamic law, with any provision it may con-
sider expedient to safeguard against fraud. And the statesman
who succeeds in placing such a measure on the statute book will be
regarded by a nation as the chief instrument of its salvation.
Ameeb Au.
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SIR WALTER SCOTT ON HIS 'GABIONS'
Some 7ears ago I had the pleasure of publishing Sir Walter's account
of the antiquities and curiosities at Abbotsford, taken from a MS.
catalogue called by him The RdiquicB Trottoasienses.^ This MS.
contained also the following notes hitherto unpubUshed regarding
his books, which, though only a fragment, will, I think, be of interest
to many. I venture to repeat part of the description— given in the
article already published— of the library at Abbotsford to show how
his precious books, the most valued perhaps of all his gabions^ were
housed by Sir Walter. The word gabion is dediured by him
to mean * curiosities, of small intrinsic value, whether rare books,
antiquities, or small articles of the fine or of the useful arts,' and
with this definition in the absence of any more lengthy information —
such as might have been looked for from the pen of Mr. Jonathan
Oldbuck — ^we must content ourselves. That Sir Walter's love of
gabions was lifelong we have ample testimony. Already in 1771
his Uttle ^ den ' in Gtoorge Square * had more books than shelves —
a small painted cabinet with Scotch and Roman coins — a claymore
and Lochaber axe given him by old Invanahyle,' ftc., and thLs was
the germ of the library and museum at Abbotsford to which there
is constant reference in his correspondence in later years, and
which was a source of the greatest interest and pleasure to him.
During the sad days of failing health in 1830, when those around
him were anxious to persuade Sir Walter to rest from more serious
work, the preparation of a Catalogue Raisonni of his treasures, to be
called, as planned in happier days, The RdiquicB TroUoosienses — ^would,
it was hoped, interest without fatiguing him. For a short time the
result verified these hopes, and Sir Walter threw himself into the
congenial occupation with his old zest; too soon, however, he felt
it to be his duty to resume his harder task, and The Rdiquiof, unfortu-
nately for us, remained unfinished.
We must now, with Sir Walter, enter the Abbotsford Library,
which he thus describes :
> ReUquia Trottcosienses, or the Gabions of the late Jonathan Oldbuck, Esq,, so
called in playful allusion to the Antiquary, See article on * The Qabions of Abbots-
ford/ by Mrs. Maxwell Scott, in Harper's Magasine for AprU 1889.
621
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622 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Oct.
* The library is rather more than forty feet long by eighteen feet
broad. It ia in appearance a well-proportioned room, but mileas
varied by some angles it would want relief, or, in the phrase of woman-
kind, would be inexcusably devoid of a flirting comer. To remedy
this defect an octagon is thrown out upon the northern side of the
room, forming a recess which, corresponding to the uses of the whole
apartment, contains two book presses with doors of latticed wire,
lliese are meant to contain books of small size and some rarity which
would otherwise run the risk of being lost or mislaid. ... I have
found it the best way to reserve some five or six cases which can be
locked up at pleasure for the security of such books as are peculiarly
valuable as well as those which for any reason seem unfit to be exposed
to the general class of readers. ... To return to the description of
the library. Its roof— on a level with that of the Hall— is sixteen feet
high and the presses rise to the height of eleven feet, having a space
of five feet accordingly between the top of the shelves and the ceding.
This was a subject of great anxiety to me. A difference of six feet
in height all round a room forty feet long would have added gready
to my accommodations. But on the other hand, a bulky and some-
what ancient person climbing up to a height to pull a book down
from a shelf thirteen feet high is somewhat too much in the position
of a sea-boy on the dizzy shroud. Indeed, being one of those who
hold that good people are valuable as well as scarce, I have remarked
with anxiety that the lives of such worthies as myself are often em-
bittered, if not ended, by the consequence of a fall from the steps of
their own library staircase. ... I remember wasting my invention
in endeavouring to devise a mode of placing my volumes in an order
easily attainable for the purpose of consultation. But I never could
hit upon an idea more Ukely to answer than imagining a Ubrarian
who, like Tahs in Spenser, should be in point of constitution '' an
yron man, and made of yron molde.'' He should be a creature
without hopes, views, wishes, or studies of his own, yet completely
devoted to assist mine ; an unequalled clerk with fingers never weary,
possessing that invariable local knowledge whereby my volumes,
like the dishes at King Oberon's banquet, should draw near and
retire with a wish. I have never been able to find for myself a
mechanical aid of such a passive description, and the alternative to
which I am reduced is the working room and study, in addition to
my Ubrary, where I keep around me the dictionaries and books of
reference which my inmiediate needs may require me to consult.
The Library, properly so called, contains only one picture, that of a
young Hussar officer ^ nearly related to the proprietor, and whidi is
worthy of attention as it is painted by the eminent histOTical artist,
William Allan.' Here ends the portion of Sir Walter's MS. which
^ The portrait of Sir Walter's eldest son, the second Sir Walter Soott.
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1906 SIB WALTER SCOTT ON HIS 'GABIONS' 628
has been already published. We will now turn to the books them-
selves.
' Upon the system of utility there are many books/ says Sir Walter,
' the real use of which in an antiquarian collection is so small as to
reduce them to the class of gabions, volumes, that is, which are not
prized for the knowledge they contain but for some peculiarity that
renders the individual copy unique, like that of the celebrated
" Boccaccio." When we are informed that the facsimile of the celebrated
Boccaccio which sold for 1001. at the Roxburgh sale can be obtained
for about 51., and is different from the inappreciable original or true
copy only in the position of a single letter, we are tempted to suppose
that the curiosity is scarce worthy of the difference in price. Thus
the original will in no respect be more valuable than a broken earthen
jar or an old broadsword or javelin corroded with rust and disowned
by the modem fashion of the fight, but Valued because supposed to
have belonged to the Roman Agricola or the Caledonian Qalgacus.
Both are curious gabions upon Geoi^ Ruthven's system, and neither
is anything more. I do not intend to make a proper collection of
such printed gabions as I may happen to be possessed of, nor do I
think that Jonathan Oldbuck of Monkbams, although classed as an
antiquary, is at all fit to unveil the treasures which would charm
a bibliomaniac, or discover to the uninitiated the peculiar properties
upon which the value of the books in such a collection is likely to
depend. I have indeed some books worthy of being marked with
a twice or thrice repeated ** R." ' But, tell it not in Qath, I have often
forgotten the peculiarity which adds the choice flavour to the article,
as befell the man in the Arabian tale who forgot the charm of '' Open
Sesame." My treasures are useless to me, because the spell is lost
which ia the mainspring that gives acoess to them. I shall not, there-
fore, dip deep into this species of lore nor attempt to show my know-
ledge where it is possible ; I might only display my ignorance. In
branches of information I would only say that my collection of
historical works relating to England and Scotland in particular is
extensive and valuable. For example, few English chronicles are
sought for in vain, as indeed the reprint by the London booksellers,
although, owing to the giddiness of the public, it has somewhat failed
as a commercial venture, renders it inexcusable for any person terming
himself a collector to want any of those valuable and inexpensive
volumes. Nothing indeed is more apt to extract a sigh than the
recollection of the catalogues we have seen and the prices of former
days. For example, I recollect that a catalogue of black letter books,
chiefly beautiful copies of reminiscences of chivaby and chronicles
of black letter, was offered to me as curator of a library of considerable
extent and renown, and I am ready to gnaw my nails to the quick
• For lUre.
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624 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Oct.
when I remember what a lot might have been purchased for less
than 301. This sum wonld now be esteemed a price not more than
sufficient for one of the number. One of our curators was a man of
sense, taste, and interest, and from all these considerations his influence
had great weight when he objected to filling up our shelves upon the
principle of Don Quixote's coUecticm that perished in the celebrated
auto-da-fi in his native village. M7 proposition was not entirely
rejected, but being admitted only to the extent of 51. or 61. it served
to purchase a valuable sample of the works which were refused.
They were, in fact, the sweepings or remainder of the curious collection
of books formerly belonging to the celebrated Messrs. Foulis, printers,
of Glasgow.'
* In like manner Mr. Lamb, Vicar of Norham, in his reprint of the
curious and contemporary poem of Flodden Field, afterwards reprinted
by Henry Weber, has a lamentation upon the fate of a poor student
who is unable to pay 51. or 61. ; for the Chronicles of HoUingshead
and others, much to tdie affliction of Norham, were currentiy purchased
at the above prices by the late John Eemble, Esq., of Covent Garden
Theatre. There is, however, a way of viewing the subject which we
are convinced would have pleased the philanthropic clergyman.
Mr. Eemble, when the changeful taste of the pubUc and the unjust
persecution of a party of the town had injured a fortune honourably
acquired in his own art, was in his later days respectably provided
for by the sale of his collection. His library had been formed in his
more wealthy times by the assistance of considerable wealth added
to great scholarship, Uberality, and knowledge of the subject. This
curious library, being the most complete collection respecting the history
of the British drama, was purchased by the Duke of Devonshire at a
price so liberal as to insure the original proprietor the comforts which
no one who knew him would have endured to think of his wanting,
while they gained for the halls of Chatsworth a literary treasure
worthy of the house of Cavendish. To this great collection I had
the honour of contributing a copy which my friend Mr. Eemble had
never even seen of Settle's Emperor of Morocco^ the first English play
illustrated with prints. This circumstance was so offensive even to
the great John Dryden that, as his biographer Johnson observes, his
invidious criticism is thereby greatiy envenomed. It was given to
me by the Rev. Henry White, of Lichfield, and I question if there is
another fair copy in the world except that in the collection of the
Duke of Devonshire. I mention this because a collector founds a fame
not only upon the treasures which he possesses but upon those
curiosities which have passed from him. So I need scarce add that
I am happy that anything which has been mine should have changed
its destination so much for the better.'
' To begin with my remarks on those books which still remain with
me I must notice that the lower line of the Library is occupied by a
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handsome cabinet, also wrought out of Rokeby yew, and serving to
contain an exact cast of the poet Shakespeare tciken by Mr. Bullock
from his monument at Stratford-upon-Avon.'^ This, having been
erected by the players who were his companions in life and executed
under their eyes, was likely to be the most exact resemblance. The
interior of this cabinet contains some manuscripts of various value
and a small unadorned snuff-box, made of the wood of the celebrated
mulberry tree, enclosing the following inscription conmiemorative
of the kind friends who bestowed it on the present proprietor :
This box made out of the wood of Shakespeare's mulberry tree, originally
the property of David Garriok and by him given to Bobert Bensley, Esq., is
presented to by Mr. Thomfaill, who acquired it by inheritance.
This renmant of the Jubilee bears the arms of Shakespeare cut
upon the lid, and must be considered no doubt as a gabion of great
curiosity.
' Two presses on the left hand of Shakespeare's cabinet contain
a miscellaneous collection of dramatic pieces, being modem reprints,
as well as a great number in those small quarto forms which was
the original mode of publishing plays at the Restoration and for
several years afterwards. There is a complete collection of Congreve's
original pieces, and those of Dryden might, without much trouble,
be rendered perfect. One circumstance is to be remarked, that the
original offences quoted by Collier against the profanity and indecency
of the stage are completely verified by these copies of the edUtanes
principesy although even the second edition in its alterations from
the first shows some bungling attempts at repentance, indicating
shame at least if not remorse. It is believed that a small sum of
money and some time bestowed in runmiaging the London catalogues,
and some trouble given to collation and comparison of editions,
would make this branch of the collection an interesting and curious one.'
II.—' L'Antiquit£: Expliqu^ bt Bepb£8bnt£e en Figures
PAB DoM Bebnabd de Montfaucoh.'
' This superb copy of a most copious and valuable work, the merits
of which is acknowledged in all parts of the world, is here bound in
fifteen volumes, scarlet morocco, in which case it reached the author
as a present from his Most Excellent Majesty Oeorge the Fourth of
happy memory. Anyone who had the honour of having access to the
person of that most excellent prince will pardon the vanity which
recalls his kindness in this and other instances. " 'Twas meant for
merit though it fell on me." '
* The bust of Sir Walter by Chantrey now occupies Shakespeare's place.
Vol. LVm— No. 844 T T
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626 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Oct.
III.—* LiBRi Classici cum Nons Variorum.'
* This edition, which compiehendB all the approved daaaics with
many other Latin authors, with notes of the best commentatois
extending to 139 volumes and splendidly bound, was the gift of
Aichibald Constable and Company by way of handselling the new
Ubrary at Abbotsford. Between author and bookseller, such as they
were in our day, this exchange of courtesies might be compared to
that of Lintot thrusting upon Pope a well printed edition of Horace,
and requesting the bard to amuse himself by turning an ode during
the time of a temporary stop on the ride to Oxford. It must be owned
that the splendid gift was bestowed in the present instance on an
author not very worthy of it, for
Long enamoured of a barbaroiu age,
A faithless truant to the classic page,
Long have I loved to list the barbarous chime
Of minstrel harps and spell the Gothic rhyme.
I am, however, as sensiUe of the value of the treasure thus kindly
put within my reach as I was of my old friend Dr. Adams' words, who
used to say I might be a good scholar if I would give competent
application. At any rate, the superb present of Messrs. Constable
and Company set me up in the line of classical antiquities, and I may
add to it a few volumes of old favourites, companions of my earlier
studies, which I do not care to part with, although the place is amply
filled by this complete edition.'
IV.— Ballads and Populab Poems.
* My readers will probably expect that I should mention some
curiosities in a line which might be thought peculiarly my own.
Accordingly, on opening a locked press the first book in which I find
an immense quantity of such gear is six volumes of stall copies of
popular ballads and tales. The memorandum in the first leaf of
these which here follows appears to have been written as far back
as 1810, which throws the date of the collection to a period at least
thirty years earlier. ** This littie collection of stall tracts and ballads
was formed by me when a boy from the baskets of travelling pedlars.
Until put in its present decent binding it had such charms for the
servants that it was repeatedly and with difficulty wrested from their
clutches. It contains most of the pieces which were popular about
thirty years since, and I daresay many that could not now be
purchased for any price. W. S. 1810." To tins opinion the author
has great reason to adhere, especially when he considers how very
soon tracts become [obsolete ?], after having been degraded into stall
editions. In fact the very circumstance which seems to assure their
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antiquity is a sign of their being actually in a modem edition. This
may be gathered when we consider that the lower sort of printers
became stocked in the beginning of last century with all those black
letter types which were originally used by the artists of a superior
degree. This is the reason why the most ordinary tasks, dying
speeches, ballads, and the like were now performed with the black
letter, which has served the highest purposes of the trade from Miller
and Chaplin down perhaps as low as Watson. However, this desultory
and juvoule collection comprehends many articles, some not elsewhere
to be found, indispensable to the history of Scotch printing.'
V.
'This is WU and Mirth, or PiUs to Purge MeUmcbohfy being^a collec-
tion of the best merry ballads and songs that are now fitted to all
humours, each having their proper tune for either vdce or instru-
ment, most of the songs being new set. It is announced as being in
five volumes, the fourth edition. It is, however, made up copy from
more editions than one, though very tall and uniform, and, accordingly,
at the time when I became proprietor of it, a remarkable instance of
the insane degree in which the passion of a bibliomaniac sometimes
exerts itself. This appears from the documents which are bound up
with the volume. The following documents relate to the attempt to
condiddle, as it is technically termed, this copy of D'Urfey's Pills out
of Mr. , by whom it was disposed of with other stock of Mr. Black-
wood's in winter and spring 1819. The thief or condiddler had a
check of conscience, or rather was seized with an apprehension of
disclosure, which occasioned his returning the volume, of which I
became the possessor. The auctioneer's advertisement is long and
too tedious to insert. The letter of the unfortunate condiddler is
pecuUar and worthy of insertion. Copy of the letter received with
D'Urfey's KUs a
What demon possesBed the mind of ^litn who is now supplloatmg forgiveness
for the offence oommitted in caxrying off these volumes he cannot pretend to
say unless it was the mean and paltry desire of the perusal. But he humbly
prays that he may be forgiven for this almost atrocious act of deliberate
robbery, and hopes that Mr. will take no more notice of the subject,
and, thanking him for so kind and private an intercession, he yentores to sign
himself (once mean, but now, he hopes, reclaimed) — ^Villain.
It is impossible to pass this document without remarking how
often men in a moral point of view are willing to exchange popular
opinion and self-applause for an equivalent as adequate as a mess of
pottage compared with the birthright of Esau. The editor of D'TTrfe/s
Pills, as his collection is elegantly styled, enjoyed a certain sort of
half-reputation, and was partly celebrated, partiy ridiculed, by
Dawson, DrydeUi and other Augustan writers at the end of the seven-
T T 2
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628 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Oct.
teenth century. He was a musician as well as a poet, and his collec-
tion goes to prove two curious facts : first, that a variety of songs
falsely called Scotch— for example, ^Ttoas Within a Mile of Edinbaro'
Taun, and others besides — ^were, in fact, composed for the players ;
secondly, that it is a mistake to suppose that the English had no
style of national music, although they have suffered it to drop almost
out of memory. A great number of tunes which are of genuine
English origin are to be found along with the music in the Pills to
Purge Mdancholy, The tunes of the Beggar's Opera, so many of
them at least as are of English origin, go to establish the same pro-
position, and show in what a short time a nation may be buUied into
the abandonment of its own music'
VI. — 'John Bell's Ballads and Talks.*
' These ditties, of which there are some repetitions, are another
copy of reprints of the ancient stall editions of popular vaudeviUes.
The North of England has at all times afforded a rich collection of
such minstrel poetry, and Mr. John Bell, who, if not now deceased,
has at least relinquished trade as a printer and bookseller, had a
good deal of the spirit dear to an admirer of the old minstrelsy. He
called his little shop upon the quay at Newcastle his Patmos and his
Anchorite's Cell. The author of Chevy Chase was his Magnus ApoUot
and even his children were an evident token of his love of minstrelsy,
being christened by such chivalrous names as Spearman Bell, Percy
Bell, &c. Nothing could more gratify the father than the oppor-
tunity of preserving and reprinting some of the lines which of yore
cheered the heart or inflamed the passions of canny Newcastie. When
Mr. Bell retired from the business I became purchaser of his stock
in trade, which of course added no less than forty or fifty volumes,
valuable as reprints, to the contents of the locked press already men-
tioned.'
VII.
^ I find in the same crypt a collection containing three volumes of
old ballads collected from the best and most ancient copies extant,
with introductions musical and critical. This collection is the more
curious, as, excepting perhaps the commentary of Addison upon
Chevy Chaise, it contains the very first attempt to treat the produc-
tions of the popular muse, or in other words the ballad poetry, as a
proper subject of criticism. The public even in the time of the
Spectator was so far from esteeming Chevy Chase as worthy of the
pains which Addison bestowed upon it, that he was ridiculed out of
the intention of examining in the same manner the simple beauties
of The Babes in the Wood, to which modem poets have so often and
so justly paid a tribute of panegyric. The editor of the octavo coUec-
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1905 SIR WALTER SCOTT ON HIS 'GABIONS' 629
tion, therefore, is the first who boldly avowed the taste for ballad
poetry already sanctioned by Addison, and since his time correctly
and elegantly illustrated by Bishop Percy, who has been equally
careful in editing the fragments of it which remained and applying
the same to the illustration of Shakespeare and other legitimate
subjects requiring annotation. It cannot be said that the editor of
these three volumes has in any degree either the taste, learning, or
powers of composition of Bishop Percy, but he has exerted himself,
and man can do no more.'
VIII.—* The Tea-Table Miscellany, or a Collection ob" Choice
Songs, Scotch and English, in four volumes, by Allan
Ramsay.'
' This copy of a memorable work has for me the reconmiendation
contained in the following inscription, which the reader will hardly
fail to appreciate. " This copy of Allan Ramsay's Tea-Table Miscellany
belonged to my grandfather, Robert Scott, and I was taught Hardi-
kanute by heart before I could read the ballad myself." Automethes^
which I have also, and Josephus's History of the Jews, added to this
collection, made my Ubrary. HardikamUe was the first poem I ever
learned and the last I shall ever forget.'
' Having spoken of the Tea-Table Miscellany in some remarks upon
Scottish ballad poetry not long since published, I shall here only
observe that it is difficult to say whether the poetry of Scotland is
most obliged to Allan's memory for making verses (he and his ingenious
young friends) to known tunes, or to complain of him for rendering
these originally intended for the tunes no longer appUcable, and
consequently rendering them obsolete. The question is perhaps some-
what difficult of decision.'
IX.
* The three thin volumes which next occur are necessarily extremely
rare, being Lettish Minstrelsy collected by the Rev. Gustavus Fouber-
man, pastor of Ruien, in Livonia, printed at his own private press
and never pubUshed. The collector of these very curious popular
songs was a Livonian clergyman who had no more types than would
set up one sheet of his work at a time, which he afterwards wrought
ofi with his own hands. They are, therefore, extremely rare, as the
impression could not but be exceedingly small, and as, besides, they
were never designed for sale. I owe this copy to the friendship of
Bfr. Robert Jameson. These curious volumes were lately for some
weeks in possession of Dr. Bowring, who has made some translations
showing the tone and simplicity of Lithuanian reUcs. Mr. Jameson,
to whom I was obliged for this work, is a collector and editor of the
Popular Ballads and Songs from manuscripts and scarce editions, with
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680 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Oct.
translations of similar pieces from the ancient Danish language, and
a few originals by the editor. One remarkable discovery was origi-
nally made by Mr. Jameson, and has not perhaps been snffidentiy
attended to by the docU sermones utrkuque linguae. It is the near
resemblance between the ballads of the Scottish and those of the
Danish people, a resemblance so very accurate as almost to lead to
the conclosion that the bards of the one nation have simply been
copyists of the other. To this subject we shall have occasion to recur
when on the subject of Danish liCnstrelsy. Before quitting the press
with which we are now engaged, we may observe that it contains
almost the whole of the publications of Joseph Bitson, a most
industrious and zealous antiquary, though unfortunately he suffered
himself to be led far astray in some of the idle debates wherein
antiquaries are apt to involve themselves further than discretion
warrants. Some of poor Mr. Bitson's pubUcations which have been
lost by fire are here preserved, and this renders the collection
interesting.
' Turning north-westward from the depository of old ballad poetry
the visitor inspects the projecting space, which is described as an
octagon, having room for two presses, both of which are furnished
with doors and locks on the plan of the others. We must here notice
that though it would be a vain attempt to arrange a library of ordinary
size according to its subjects, yet this can be attained in a small degree
when the subjects treated of are handled in volumes of the same nze,
resembling each other in Height and taking their place on the same
shelf. The press whose contents were last treated of was chiefly
occupied by popular poetry, and that to which we now turn on the
right of the octagon is occupied by two sets of books of both of which
I have been a collector. The first of these presses may be distinguished
by the general term of Demonology, a subject upon which as much
wild nonsense has been published as on any other known to me.
But I do not mean to abuse the patience of the reader by going very
deep into the matter/
' Here is a very curious edition of a very curious book, being Satan* s
Inrisible World Discovered, or a choice collection of modem relations
proving evidentiy against the Sadducee and all Atheists of this present
age that there are devils, spirits, witches and apparitions, from
authentic records, attestations of famous witnesses of undoubted
veracity, to all which is added that marvellous history of Major Weir
and his sister, with two relations of apparitions at Edinburgh, by
Mr. George Sinclair, late Professor of Philosophy in the OoUege of
Glasgow.
Mr. George Sinclair is in respect of demonology much the same
sort of author that the Bev. Mr. Glanville was in England. Both
were persons of some sense, learning, and education, which gave them
a degree of credit beyond their powers of understanding. The vulgar
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1905 SIB WALTER SCOTT ON HIS 'GABIONS' 681
suppose that drcmnstances perfectly extrinsic are nevertheless essen-
tial to the (»edit of the witness. Thus, in Much Ado About Nothing,
Benedick says : ^ I should think this a gall, but that the white-beardei
fellow speaks it ; knavery cannot, sure, hide himself in such reverence.'
In the same manner the vulgar are naturally of opinion that they
have rendered their tale indubitable when they have said that their
authority was an Oxford Scholar. Glanville, I remember, was the
first author who by his mode of applying logic gave me some idea
of the practical use of that art of reasoning. Mr. George Sinclair,
the author of SatarCs IiwifMe World Diacovered, was a person of
considerable knowledge in relation to the manner in which he em-
ployed it, and his character upholds, among the ignorant at least,
in some degree the popularity of his metaphysical doctrine. Numerous
editions for the use of the common people have been at different
times, and some very lately, reprinted. I had never seen, though I
had long looked for, a copy of this edition printed by Beid in 1695»
which is undoubtedly the original, until Mr. David Laing most kindly
and handsomely made me a present of this copy. The following
articles in the first edition are omitted in the later ones :
First. The dedication to George Seaton, Earl of Winton and . . .'
Second. The copy of a Latin encomium upon the work and the
author by Patricius Sinclair.'
Third. A note of the author himself on the Cartesian Philosophy.
Fourth. A Preface to the Beader, consisting of fifteen pages,
concluded by what Mr. Sinclair calls Cofmen SteUtenHcon.
Of these variations one point is rather curious. In the dedication
the natural philosopher gets completely the better of the metaphysician,
for the professor of philosophy expands upon his admiration of Lord
Winton's family descent, his prudence and his heroic valour, and
also his extensive coal-mines, an extract from which passage may
amuse the reader, it being indeed an exquisite morsel — a morsel of
exquisite pedantry :
This treatise is called 8at<m*t Invisible World Discovered. Bat I hare
ascertained that by your transcendant skill you have discovered an invisible
world far beyond what any of yonr ancestors conld do — I mean your sub-
terranean world, a work for a prince. There Dadalns for all his skill wonld
mistake the way. What running of mines and levels. What cutting of im-
pregnable rooks with more difficulty than Hannibal cut into the Alps. Qui
monies ru^t aceto. What deep pits and air holes are digged. What diligence
to prevent damps which kill man suid beast in a moment. What contriving of
pillars for supporting houses and churches which are undermined. What
floods of water run through the labyrinths for several miles by a free level as if
they were conducted by a guide. How doth art and nature shine together,
which shall advance 3rour Lordship's interest most ? What curious mechanical
engines has your lordship, like another Archimedes, contrived for your coal
works and for drawing coal sinks. What a mollminous rampier hath your
lordship begun and nearly perfected for a harbour of deep water even at high-
tide. . , •
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* Mr. Sinclair has, besides the above morceauXy given another in-
stance in which he has mixed his dissertations upon the certain sciences
with visionary studies, and treatises upon hydrostatics, containing a
short history of coal, are mixed up with a cock-and-bull story of a
demon or fiend which haunted the house of one Gilbert Campbell,
a merchant of , in Galway. The book is dated 1672. With
regard to Bfr. Sinclair's collection of ghost stories, it contained what
has at all times been desirable in such matters — a curious and de-
tailed account of a good number of tales concerning Gothic super-
stition not to be found elsewhere, and some that are famous to this
day in Scottish history and tradition. I am informed that a copy
which came to the hammer sold as high as 42. ; and, in evidence of its
rarity, Bfr. Constable long regretted an example which he possessed
and which disappeared through the intervention, as was supposed,
of such a demon as we have formerly mentioned, such as at the present
day more frequently haunt the shops of booksellers than the huts of
weavers.'
X.
'The Disoovebt of Witches, an answer to several questions
lately delivered to the judges of assize in the county of
Norfolk and now published by Matthew Hopkins, Witch-
finder, FOR THE benefit OF THE WHOLE EiNGDOM, LONDON
1647.'
' This work I conceive to be scarce, as well as the print prefixed,
where may be seen Matthew Hopkins, by whose evidence a number
of old women were consigned to the stake, two of whom are pre-
sented in the portrait along with him, besides portraitures of their
imps, of which we are informed the names R. Hem Quazer, Pye Wackett
Peckt in the Crown, Grizzle, Greedy Gut, Sack and Sugar, Vin^ar
Tom, &;c., all of whom were drawn in such hideous shapes as show
the course of imagination of those who devised their names. For
Hopkins's character and fate, see Dr. Gray's notes upon Hudibras
Pomponatius, his work upon enchantments being full of abstruse
philosophy.'
'Basilar. The certainty of the World of Spirits fully
evinced by the unquestionable histories of apparitions,
Operations, Witchcraft, Voices, &c., proving the immor-
tality OF SOULS, THE MALICE AND MISERY OF DEVILS AND THE
DAMNED, AND THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE JUSTIFIED. WRITTEN
FOR THE CONVICTION OF SaDDUCEES AND InFIDEM BY RiCHARD
Baxter, London 1691.'
' This collection, which in point of authenticity may be classed
with th(X3e of Glanville and Sinclair, builds its evidence upon the
character of the worthy dissenting minister, Richard Baxter, whose
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doctrine was distinguished among the dissenters that no sect of religion
might be free from the disgrace attending follies of this nature. The
book has had its day of popularity, but the reverend author is now
rather pitied than credited for the prodigies which he has amassed
together. Those who collect books of such a nature will, however
hardly choose to be without one upon which a pen has been em-
ployed which, in its day, has been so celebrated.'
Here end the notes, and the further history of Sir Walter's gabions
remains untold.
M. M. Maxwell Scott.
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AN EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY EPISODE IN
VIENNESE COURT LIFE
The unique episode of Court life in the eighteenth century, that is
associated chiefly with the names of the Emperor Joseph II. and of
the Princess Eleonore Liechtenstein, is probably as little known
outside Austria as if the actors were not a great European ruler and a
remarkable member of the proudest aristocracy in the world.
The subject of this sketch belonged to a coterie of five great ladies,
who for more than twenty years enjoyed the friendship of the lonely
and sad-hearted Emperor. A collective friendship of this sort does
not at first sight appear either romantic or dangerous ; yet at one
time, through no conscious effort on her part, the Princess Eleonore
did awaken feelings of a more tender nature in the young Emperor.
It is not the least extraordinary feature of their mutual relations
that, without the usually inevitable alternative of a complete rupture,
the sovereign's attempt at courtship ended simply in his tadt accept-
ance of the fact that the lady would remain his friend only on condi-
tion of being nothing more.
The Princess Eleonore Liechtenstein was the daughter of Prince
Aloys I. of Oettingen-Spielberg, one of the numerous Qerman princes
who wielded almost absolute sway over their Lilliputian dominions.
He is described as a kindly and cultured man, but apparentiy he
did not concern himself much with his motherless daughters. His
wife, a daughter of Duke Leopold of Holstein-Wiesenburg, died soon
after the birth of Eleonore, leaving her husband, besides this infant,
only one other child, a daughter, L^opoldine. When Eleonore was
four years old, the sisters were sent to a French convent near Strass-
burg, where they remained nine* years. There they learnt French
and almost forgot their mother tongue, which Eleonore afterwards
much regretted. They did not learn much besides, except church
embroidery and to ^ set' relics, but the nuns' training must have
been wholesome, for both sisters afterwards gave proof under most
trying circumstances of sound religious principles and of a sobriety
and excellence of judgment not very common in that age. They
both, too, had that appetite for good reading which, if genuine, is not
in need of artificial stimulus. ^In 1758 they went back to the paternal
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^flchloBz' — ^in those days of bad roads, slow oommunications and
aristocratic isolation, scarcely a lively residence for young girls. Two
years afterwards a great change took place in their life. One of their
mother's sisters, who had married the Duke of Guastalla and had
no children, died, and left them, besides money, large properties in
Lombardy and Moravia. Th^ had suddenly become great Austrian
heiresses. Their father at once took them to Vienna and presented
them to the Empress Maria Theresa, who was their kinswoman,
her grandmother, the Duchess of Brunswick- Wolfenbiittel, having
been bom an Oettingen. The young girls found other relations
among the Austrian aristocracy, and were readily adopted in Viennese
fashion as the ^ Poldi ' and the ^ Lori ' by the young ^ princesses ' and
'contessen' of society. They naturally saw a great deal of the
charming family group of which the beautiful Empress was the centre.
Viedtors to Vienna will recall the countless portraits in public and
private galleries of Maria Theresa with her mild-faced husband and
some or all of her thirteen children, in which all these fair-haired,
handsome, stately, young people look so like each other that one
suspects that one brother and one sister must have sat for the rest.
In 1760 none were yet married, and the court was the scene of gaieties
of all descriptions, in which the Oettingens shared.^
Within the year both sisters were married : Leopoldine to Count
Ernest Eaunitz, son of the famous Chancellor Prince Eaunitz ; Eleonore
to Prince Charles Liechtenstein. The Liechtensteins were ^Reichs-
fiirsten ' (Princes of the Empire) and among the first noble families
in Austria. The head of the house (Prince Wenzel), uncle to Eleonore's
husband, was a great personage. His joint properties in Qermany,
Moravia, and Styria comprised twenty-four towns, 760 villages,
forty-six castles and 164 farms, and were inhabited by a million of
people. He had filled great offices under Charles VT. and Maria
Theresa, and helped to save the monarchy in the critical times of the
War of the Austrian Succession. His nephew was a brave and dis-
tinguished soldier, an honoiirable and fair-minded man, but absorbed
in his profession, fond of the company of men, and, though he appears
to have fallen in love with the young heiress, as he was intended to
do by persons interested in both parties, he was scarcely the man
to satisfy the natural cravings for sympathy of an ardent young
creature such as Eleonore was. It appears to have been rather due
to her sterling worth of character than to the existence of any very
ideal feelings between them that the marriage on the whole turned
out happily. Eleonore had the sense of duty and proud scorn of the
smallest breach of wifely loyalty that still characterise most of the
ladies of the old Austrian nobility. But she wore the stem panoply
of virtue with easy, natural grace, and from all accounts must have
* Aus dem Hqfleben Maria Theresias, Kach den Memoircn des Fiiraten Joseph
Eheyenhuller. Von Adam Wolf. And other works.
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been a very fascinating woman. She was not, indeed, a striking beauty,
but very pretty and, though small, perfectly well-proportioned in
figure. She had a lovely complexion and much play of countenance,
and combined great dignity of deportment with perfect ease of manner.
Her extreme liveliness, her eager interest in life, her easy flow of talk,
her impulsiveness, and the freshness of her thoughts and impressions
gave perpetual charm and variety to her society.
During her early married life the Princes Charles — 'die Karlin,'
as she was famiUarly called in society — spent some part of the year
in her own home, Meseritsch, a castle in Moravia, built on a rocky
eminence. She was often alone for months together with her husband
and the children, who soon bVought additional happiness and fulness
to her life. She loved an open-air life ; she was strong and active ;
rough roads and steep mountain paths had no terrors for her. She
often accompanied her husband on long shooting expeditions, and
occasionally had a shot at the big or small game that abounds in
that thinly populated country. Her strong taste for reading developed
in these quiet times, and we hear of her listening with delight while
her husband read out some current epoch-making book, such as
GU Bias or Montesquieu^s Esprit des LoiSy while, unsentimental as she
was, she confesses to having wept in secret over the sorrows of Clarissa.
It is from her volimiinous letters to her dearly loved sister that
these details are taken. Their correspondence was particularly
full and uninterrupted during the Kaunitzes' long residence at Naples,
where the Count filled the office of Austrian Minister from 1764 till
1778, the true reason of this appointment being that the discerning
eye of Maria Theresa saw in the discreet young Countess a fitting
guardian to her giddy daughter, the Queen of Naples.
It was during these years that a crisis took place in Eleonore's
married life, that put the utmost strain on her principles. A friend
and comrade of her husband. Count Odonell,^ became passionately
attached to her, and paid her the flattering homage of a man of rare
tact and delicacy. He was even older than her husband, who was
her senior by fifteen years, but an extremely fascinating and agreeable
man. Eleonore was flattered and touched, and suddenly became
aware that her own heart responded all too readily to the feelings
she had quite unconsciously awakened. She soon perceived that
her husband's jealousy was aroused, and though she was able to set
his mind at rest, her own remained a prey to secret thoughts of her
admirer and to the consequent reproaches of a sensitive conscience.
Her letters to her sister show the conflict through which she passed.
Those of L^opoldine are models of wisdom and tenderness. She cannot
bear to show the full extent of her anxiety, but still warns her sister
' I have been able to identify this gentleman with Connell 0*Donell (died 1771),
son of Hugh of Larkfield, co. Leitrim, who married Flora, daughter of John, Count
Hamilton, Austrian service, mentioned in Burke.
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against possible danger. * Do not think, dear sister, that an attach-
ment of this kind can remain imdecided ; it progresses without our
being aware of it. . . . Trust in God, keep very busy, avoid soli-
tude. . . . ' Eleonore acted on this advice, and she was finally
rewarded by a complete victory over herself. Count Odonell, when
he saw that his attentions were endangering the young couple's
happiness, behaved like a man of honour and sought safety in volun-
tary banishment from Vienna. The Empress, who probably had
some inkling of the matter and was not loth to meddle with the private
concerns of her subjects, at his request relieved him of his Court
appointment and sent him, as Governor of Transylvania, to the very
utmost limits of her empire. Three years later he returned to Vienna,
and then frequently met the Princess Eleonore, who no longer felt
any embarrassment in his presence. He died the following year.
Though Prince Charles appears to have been subject to occasional
fits of jealousy, his wife's conscience ever after this episode was quite
clear, and a few words of good-humoured banter on her part sufficed
to restore harmony between them. He must, however, have often
tried her patience severely, for though he was not at that time rich
for a man of his rank, he was very extravagant and lost large sums
of money at cards, so that they were frequently in financial difficulties.
His father's death in 1771 put an end to this. He succeeded to the
large ' seigneurie ' of Erumau, in Moravia, with a population of 22,000.
This became the usual sunmier home of the Princess and her children,
while the Prince joined them whenever his military duties would
allow.
The winter and spring were always spent in Vienna, where Eleonore,
both from her position and the natural ascendency of her cleverness
and exuberant vitality, soon became one of the leaders of society.
She shared this leadership, as has been said, mainly with four other
ladies. They formed a coterie so distinct and so well known in con-
temporaneous society that they were simply designated as ' the five
ladies ' or the * Fiirstinnen.' Professor Wolf gives a rather quaint
summary of the traits they had in common : * They were all married,
of unblemished reputation, pious, faithful to their husbands and to
their father confessors, fearless in speecb and action (' freimiithig '),
not averse to amusement, of lively parts and amiable disposition, and
closely united by bonds of blood and friendship.' *
Theirs, indeed, was the perfect ease and freedom of intercourse
that can only exist where people's antecedents are very similar and
they have many things in common. To some minds such intercourse
is more attractive than the greater variety and freshness of more
mixed society. It may be incidentally remarked that to this day
society in Vienna makes on strangers the impression of being merely
■ Fwrstin Eleonore Liechtenstein : 1745-1812. Nach Briefen und Memoiren ihrer
Zeit. Von Adam Wolf. 1876.
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A large ooterie of this description^ with a fringe of oataiden, belongmg
to the leaser nobility or to the official wodd, who are frigidly toler-
ated.
'The five ladies* were the Princesses CSary and Einsky, both
daughters of the * Reichsgraf * Hermann von HohenzoUem-Heckingen,
and cousins to the Oettingen sisters ; the Princess Leopoldine liech-
tenstein» fUe ^ Comtesse * Sternberg, whose husband, the eldest brother
of Prince Charles, became, on his uncle's death, the head of that great
house ; the Princess Eleonore, and, on her ccnning to Vienna, the Countess
Eaunitz, who afterwards became the Princess of that name. The
Princess Clary, whom to know was to love, as Eleonore said, had
been a great beauty in her youth ; she was the eldest of the society,
and in some sense its head and secretary, to whom the Emperor
Joseph usually addressed the letters he frequently wrote to the ' five
ladies.* The Princess Einaky, a good-humoured, gay, rather garrulous
lady, kept a great house in Vienna and entertained on a great scale.
The Princess Leopoldine Liechtenstein also saw much company;
her parties were reputed to be the most brilliant in Vienna. She
was of a more cautious and reticent disposition than the other ladies,
and a more immixed admirer of the Court.
The ladies lived close to each other in Vienna in the old aristocratic
quarter of narrow streets and hands(Hne though often dingy * palaces/
as the houses of the nobility are called. They met at least once every
week; later, when the Emperor had become an habitual visitor,
three or four times, usually between eight and ten in the evening.
Cards were never played, though this was the general custom in
A^enna as in most capitals at that time ; there was no music and
seldom any reading aloud, in no case when the Emperor was present.
The sole amusement was conversation, which, to judge from the
letters that have been preserved, ran on a great variety of tojncs :
current events. Court incidents, general conditions, the literature
of the day. A picture represents the five ladies as sitting at a round
table, the Emperor being in the act of entering the room ; they are
dressed very simply, each is engaged in some piece of needle-work,
and a small lamp on the table appears to give but scanty light to the
apartment.
The coterie naturally attracted general notice, the more so as
no other woman ever had access to it and the ladies' husbands kept
aloof on principle. The aged Prince Ehevenhiiller, the French Am-
bassador Durand and his successor Breteuil, appeared a few times,
but the ladies showed them very plainly that their company was
not desired. Prince Eaimitz idso made some vain attempts at
ingratiating himself. Only three men found favour with the ladies,
and they retained it as long as they lived : Field-Marshal Count Lascy,
Count Rosenberg, who held an important ^ace at Court, and the
Emperor Joseph.
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That monarch found one of the few pleasures of a singularly
unhappy life in the society and friendship of the ' Furstinnen.' The
general features of Joseph's strong and interesting personaUty and of
his chequered reign are known to all readers of history. Overwhelming
as were the difficulties with which he had to contend, impossible as
was the task he set himself of substituting the action of his sovereign
will for the slow processes of historical evolution, yet his difficulties
were increased by his personal failings. A man cannot conciliate
the instincts of an absolute monarch with the aspirations of an ardent
reformer, nor the strongest sense of justice in the abstract with the
arbitrary violation of old rights and liberties whenever they prove
inconvenient.
In the letters published by the historian Ameth^ and in those
now appearing under the auspices of the * Historische Commission der
Kaiserlichen Akademie der Wissenschaften,' ^ most of which by the
way are written in appalling French, we have interesting glimpses both
of the real nobility of his mind and of its perhaps inevitable limitations.
In writing to his brother Leopold, the Grand Duke of Tuscany, his
great friend and confidant, he alludes ^to the task God has given
him in placing him in the service of fifteen millions of men.'
The strain of optimism that generally runs through men of reform-
ing tendencies was apparently wanting in Joseph. The following
passage of a letter to the Grand Duke Paul of Russia — ^the later
Emperor of that name — ^and his wife, reveals the mind of a benevolent
and despondent autocrat, who, in spite of vaguely liberal tendencies,
caimot rid himself of the sense that his subjects are helpless minors
whom it is their sovereign's duty to make good and happy :
24 F^vrier 1781.
.... Vousvonlez bien aoBsi m'enoourager sur les diffionlt^s de mon nouvel
emploL L'id^ de pouvoir fedre du bien et de rendre henrenx ses sujets est sans
doute le plus beau et le senl o6t^ flatteur de la pnissanoe, tout oomme il est
raiguiUon le plus puissant pour tout &me sensible et honnSte, mais quand en
inline tems Ton S9ait que chaque fausse d-marche ocoasionne le oontraire, que
le mal est si facile et si rapide k faire, et que le bien est si difficile et tardif, et
que mdme de sa nature il doit Pdtre, ne pouvant s'opposer que lentement pour
dire solide dans un vaste Etat, alors oette douce illusion se diminue de beaucoup,
et il ne reste plus que la satisfaction qu'on porte avec soi, et par laquelle on a
la douceur incomparable de se savoir en bonne oompagnie quand on est seul,
et de le chercher, toute consideration personnelle & part, et de ne faiie que ce que
le bien g^n^ral de TEtat et du gruid nombre exige.
Another extract from this letter is worth quoting as expressive
of a wish to get beyond the shams of life and of that sense of having a
* Maria Theresia und Joseph II. Ihre Correspondetu sammt Brief e Josephs an
seinen Bruder Leopold, Herausgegeben yon Alfred Bitter yon Ameth. (1S67.)
* Joseph n. und Qraf Ludtoig Cobensl : Ihr BrieftoechseU Herausgegeben von
Adolf Beer und Joseph Bitter von Fiedler, wirkL Mitgliedem der Kais. Akademie der
Wissenschaften. Wien, 1901.
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Providential mission to fulfil that has possessed so many arbiters
of the fate of others :
S*il y a trop de philosophie k tout cela, si j*ai trop 6t^ le manteaa royal, la
couronne et le sceptre, et que j'ai fait voir 4 Vos Altesses Imp^riales le souverain
tout ddbhabilM et devant son valet de chambre, qu'Elles me pardonnent aux
principes que j'ai tonjours eu, de remonter & la source primitive de chaque
chose et de t&cher de voir sans fard et sans apprSt chaque 6tre et chaque chose
dans son ^tat natnreL Je ne m'en trouve pas pour cela plus malheiueux, non.
Chaque dtre, me dis-je, est cr^^ pour remplir ime place pendant un certain inter*
valle d'ann^s sur le globe. £h bien I Je suis une de ces marionettes que la
Providence, sans que j'aye pu choisir ni demander ni la rechercher, s'cst plu
& mcttre 4 la place que j'occupe, afin que jo fasse mon temps.
The reader of the life and letters of Jcxseph II. is frequently re-
minded of a great ruler of our own times. His strenuous activity,
his extreme mobility, his devotion to miUtary matters, his remarkable
versatiUty, his attention to detail, his fondness for the role of musical
and dramatic critic, above all a strange mixture of cynicism with
genuine idealism, are so many points of resemblance with William II.
of Germany.
In his domestic relations Joseph was no less unfortunate than
in his pubHc life. His first wife, Isabella of Parma, whom he truly
loved, died of smallpox after a three years' marriage, which would
have been happy but for the yoiing princess's singular presenti-
ment of an early death. He lost his only child, a daughter, at
the age of seven. He married a second time to please his mother,
but could not bear his second wife, Maria Josepha, a daughter of the
late Emperor Charles VII., who was a good, well-intentioned woman,
but perfectly devoid of any charm of person or mind. His caustic
answer to his mother, when she begged him to write oftener to his
wife during his frequent absences, speaks volumes for his poor estimate
of her :
Le 6 Juillet 1766.
Elle (Marie Th^r^sc) pardonnera si je n*^cris point k mon Spouse ; mais
vent et pluie ne sauraient seules remplir une page ; si jamais je trouve matike,
je le ferai.
When Maria Josepha too died of smallpox in 1767, it was popularly
believed that she was not really dead, but had retired to a convent
to escape the misery of her married life.
During the fifteen years in which Joseph shared the government
of the Austrian lands and of Hungary with his mother (1765-1780)
there was perpetual friction between them, with occasional crises of a
serious nature and proposals to resign from both sides. As early as
1765 Eleonore writes of him as,' that poor prince, truly to be pitied,
who never will be happy himself, nor make others happy.'
It was in 1770, when he was twenty-nine years of age, that the
Emperor, besides going a good deal into general society, b^an occa-
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1905 A VIENNESE COUBT EPISODE 641
sionally to frequent the little circle of ladies, which had already formed
itself, and in which he was at first only admitted on sufEerance. Gradu-
ally he got into the habit of coming more frequently till he became
the centre of the little company. When harassed and preoccupied,
as was often the case, he was not inclined for animated conversation,
and the ladies were at a loss how to rouse and amuse him. On other
occasions he would himself encourage them to speak their minds freely
on all kinds of subjects, and enjoy the lively repartee which was
never wianting when Princess Eleonore was present. While they
however, as good and true women, took themselves and their opinions
very seriously, it is well they were happily ignorant of the Emperor's
view of these conversational skirmishes, as expressed in a letter to
his brother Leopold in reply to the Grand Duke's evident caution
against female society :
Le 13 Mars 1775.
Je pense comme voub, et je crois aussi que de B*y attacher est le oomble du
malheur ; mais de les voir, de les frequenter, de voir leurs petites maniganoes,
cela est amusant, et j*avoue que je m'en dornie souvent la com^die. Ce sont
des brise-raison pour la plupart, et comme souvent elles ont de Tesprit, il est
plaisant de voir comment elles habillent leurs sophismes et pr^jug^s toutes les
fois qu^on vient, la raison k la main, leor d^montrer autre chose. G*est alora
qu'au moment qu*elles sentent qu'on les mettrait, oomme on dit, les pieds & la
mer, qu'elles s'emportent, . . . enfin tournent la conversation.
The Emperor, however, was not always as cool as in this letter
he represents himself to be. Eleonore was four years younger than
he was— a brilliant young woman at the most seductive age ; her
liveUness and gaiety cheered him, and her independent spirit was not
the least of her charms. He fell under her spell ; his manner changed ;
he was by turns reserved and cool, or eager and devoted, Uke every
man who truly loves and cannot declare his love. The Princess
became aware of the feelings she had awakened. She was both
flattered and startled, but this time only her vanity, not her heart
was touched. Countess Kaunitz was extremely alarmed, and sent
her much good advice, which the younger sister appears to have
always taken in good part. Her husband, who at this time was
usually with his regiment at Pressburg, showed signs of displeasure.
Eleonore behaved admirably; no crisis took place, no dramatic
scenes occurred ; with the natural dignity of every good woman and
the supreme ease of manner of one of high descent, she gave the
Emperor to understand that the only change which could come in
their mutual relations would be to place a greater distance between
them. Proud as she was of being the daughter and wife of German
' Beichsfiirsten,' she purposely emphasised her position as ^ subject '
with regard to Joseph. When the Emperor ventured to propose
a secret correspondence, she indignantly refused, adding that if he
wished to write it must be by post, and that the best news he could
send her would be that of her husband's promotion in the army.
Vol. LVin— No. 344 U U
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642 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Oct.
She did not join the annual party at the Imperial castle of Laxen-
bnig, and was much relieved when her husband took her to their
new home at Erumau. In 1772 the Ernest Eaunitzes came to Vienna,
and the presence of her sister was an additional safeguard to Eleonore.^
The best proof of the discretion shown by the Princess Eleonore
lies in the fact that she continued to enjoy the favour of the Empress
Maria Theresa, who frequently invited her to intimate gatherings
at Schonbnmn and Laxenburg. Eleonore was not as anxious for
these invitations as the Empress doubtless supposed. Though there
is no doubt that she was perfecUy aware of the prestige which the
Emperor's friendship gave her, she was all through Ufe impatient
of the artificiaUty and the restraints of Court Hfe. As a very young
woman she writes to her sister on receiving an invitation to Laxen-
burg : ' I would have liked to refuse, but could find no pretext for
doing so. For me to Uve at Court would be a sure means of sending
me to another world ; what gene, what embarrassment, what ennui !
One can never say what one really thinks or feels.'
In her letters from Laxenburg in 1786, where a large and brilliant
company was assembled and they were ' swimming in amusements/ as
she expresses it, she says : ' I am inmiersed in Court life. Wit, feeling,
and fancy are forbidden things at Laxenburg, but the whole world
is enchanted. . . . I would like to tell you something new, but nothing
breaks the monotony of our life. It is dreadful to be always with
^ sixty people, whose thoughts you don't know.' In another place
she says : ^ During my whole life the atmosphere of a Court was anti-
pathetic to me.' This antipathy was largely due to her proud and
independent character. On one occasion (1779) the Emperor came
to Eisgrub, the seat of the head of the Liechtenstein family, where
Eleonore was staying; she had some real or fancied cause of dis-
pleasure against him, and treated him with such coolness that he
left that same night. A lady of this description is not likely to feel
happy amid the prescribed round of pursuits and pleasures of a resi-
dence at Court.
The independence that was a saUent trait in the Princess was,
* Though Wraxall, the contemporaneous traveller and author of Memoirs of ihe
Courts of Berlin, Dresden, Warsaw, and Vienna, in the years 1777, 1778, 1779, is not
generally considered a reliable authority, there is no reason to doubt his testimony to
both the charms and the virtue of Princess Charles Liechtenstein. He says : * Her
person is pleasing, and though her features cannot be esteemed regular, their
expression is admirable. Her mouth is peculiarly beautiful, and over her wbole
figure is diffused an air of modesty, intelligence, and dignity rarely blended in any
woman. She possesses, besides an enlarged and cultivated mind, a fund of amnsing
conversation and powers of entertaining, as well as improving, very superior to the
generality of her sex in Vienna.' He adds that * her sense of what she owes to her
family and herself, added to a religious and serious turn of mind,' were her safeguards
amid the dangers of her position. * She is the object of his affection and friendship,'
but nothing more. * It is in her conversation that Joseph finds the most pleasing
relaxation from public business, as well as from private disquietude.'
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however, curiously blended with a remarkable craving for the shelter
and safeguard of her husband's presence and authority. In a letter
to her sister dated the 30th of June, 1772, she deplores her separation
from him, and says : ' It is a bad thing ; I get accustomed to a certain
independence while yet I am made to wear a yoke (" mit meinem
ganzen Wesen fiir das Joch gesohaffen bin ").'
Prince Charles was no less independent than his wife, and he
quarrelled more than once with his imperious sovereign. Eleonore
invariably took her husband's part. This added to the complica-
tions of her singularly chequered relations with the Emperor.
In 1780 the Empress Maria Theresa died, and Joseph was at length
able to execute fully his long-cherished schemes of reform. It does
not lie within the scope of this paper to enumerate the various daring
and radical measures taken by Joseph to introduce a strong central-
ised bureaucratic government, with equal justice for all, toleration
of the Protestant and Greek rehgious bodies, and German as the
official language of the Empire. These measures concern us only in
so far as they afEected the Emperor's relations with the ^ five ladies.'
As might be expected, they met with scanty approval. The Princess
Eleonore was the 'leader of the opposition.' Her mind and that
of the philosophical Emperor ever remained at opposite poles. The
movement known as the ^ Aufklarung/ which had so deeply influenced
him, always appeared to her as an emanation of the evil one. Clever
as she was, she committed the mistake which Anatole Prance quaUfies
as a mark of stupidity : ' rien n'est bete conmie de bonder I'avenir.'
Her attitude of mind towards the future was ^ sulky.' Besides,
as a German ' Beichsf iirstin ' she clung to the feudal and federal
institutions of the Empire, to the autonomy of its various States,
with their chartered privileges; her pride no less than hereditary
instincts revolted against absolutism and the mechanical rule of
a subservient bureaucracy. It is more surprising that her womanly
sympathies were apparently not awakened by the Emperor's
* passionate pity ' for the siifierings of the poor, to which all his
biographers bear witness. There is no reason to suppose that this
was owing to lack of kindness of heart ; it was probably due to the
same causes that make most of us more callous than we should be
to sorrows that do not come under our inmiediate notice, and also
in some measure to a recoil from the sickly sentimentality and unreal
philanthropy of the school of Rousseau.
The ladies were, however^ most deeply grieved by the attitude
of Joseph towards the Church. It ia^ perhaps, not generally known
how very near he came to playing a part similar to that of Henry the
Eighth with regard to Rome. As an instance of the strained relations
between the Vatican and the Emperor, his action on one occasion
may be cited. He sent back a letter he had received from the Pope
unanswered, with the remark that it could not possibly have emanated
u u 2
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from his Holiness, and thot he hoped the author of the forgery might
be duly punished. Although this particular incident may not have
reached their ears, the constant friction between Joseph and the
Papal See was apparent enough to fill the mind of devout CathoUcs
with alarm. Joseph the Second considered it his duty to sweep
away abuses in the Church as well as in the State. Here, too, he took
no half-measures. In eight years he suppressed 700 convents and
reduced the numbers of ' religious ' by 36,000. (True 1,324 convents
remained in existence, with 27,000 monks and nuns.) He opposed
the influence of the Papacy, and forbade his Austrian subjects to go
to the German college at Rome. He made severe laws against un-
worthy priests, reduced the incomes of the higher clergy, regulated
pubUc worship, and ordered the removal of side altars, votive offerings,
and unnecessary ornaments in the churches.
The ladies looked upon these and similar measures either as perse-
cutions, such as the early Christians suffered, or in any case as acts
of intolerable interference with Church matters. Perhaps VBgue
fear of a complete rupture with the Pope Uke that of the Church
of England in the sixteenth century added to their anxiety, for
Countess Eaunitz wrote to her sister (7th of July, 1781) : * When a
sovereign decides on dogmatic matters he establishes a royal primacy
like that in England.'
Neither her arguments nor the more passionate protests of her
sister ever had the smallest influence with the Emperor. It is worthy
of notice, however, that in her opinion of the Jesuits Countess Eaunitz
came nearer to agreement with Joseph than on most matters. In
1769, on the death of Pope Clement the Thirteenth, she wrote : * May
God give us a good Pope ! The Jesuite are intriguing to get a Pope
after their pattern. Truly it would be better for religion and peace
if they did not exist. God certainly does not need the Jesuits. Twelve
poor fishermen founded our reUgion. ... It is an insult to God
and the Church to believe that this or that order is indispensable.'
The Emperor had indeed good cause to distrust the Jesuits.
Their bitter hostility was one of the main causes of the revolution
in the Austrian Netherlands that broke out in 1786 and ended in the
final loss of that troublesome possession to the Austrian Crown in
1789. These latter years of Joseph's reign were crowded with mis-
fortune of all kinds.
His health, which had been slowly faiUng, broke down completely
during the unfortunate Turkish campaign in 1788. He insisted on
sharing in the hardships of his men, and suffered severely from ex-
posure, fever, and, more than all, from the want of success that attended
his arms. He was obUged to return to Vienna in the autumn of that
year, leaving the conmiand of the army to the far more competent
hands of Laudon. Hungary, which more than any other part of
his heterogeneous empire had resented the attempt at amalgamation.
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1905 A VIENNESE COURT EPISODE 645
was in an increasingly dangerous state. The unfortunate Emperor
was obliged in his ' paternal love,' by a formal act of repeal dated
the 28th of January, 1790, to cancel all the changes he had made
since 1780, and also to send back the crown of Hungary from Vienna
to Pesth. It is a melancholy thought that the same problems which
Joseph the Second vainly tried to remove rather than to solve more
than a century ago, have baffled the more patient and statesmanlike
efforts of Francis Joseph and his advisers, and that the decUning
years of that monarch are equally saddened by heart-breaking dis-
illusion and gloomy forebodings.
The repeated blows of fortime ' slowly pushed the Emperor into
his grave,' as an Austrian writer expresses it. In all history there
is scarcely a more i)athetic figure than that of Joseph the Second
dying in the prime of life— lie was only forty-nine — ^with the agonising
sense of apparent failure in almost everything he had undertaken
for the good of his people, shunned even by his brother Leopold,
who refused to come to Vienna and share the government with him,
by his sister Christina, who with her husband Duke Albert of Saxony
had been governor of the Austrian Netherlands and could not forgive
him the unwise poUcy which she believed had led to the revolution,
surrounded only by his nephew Francis, the gentlemen of his house-
hold^ and male attendants. The news of the taking of Belgrade on
the 6th of October, 1789, was the last ray of sunshine in his life. Yet
he writes sadly to his brother : ' Yesterday a Te Deum was sung ;
incredible numbers of people were in the streets and gave way to
rejoicings such as I have never witnessed. This lasted the whole
night; every house was illuminated, bands of musicians marched
through the streets, and I, unable in my miserable condition to rejoice
at anything, went to bed at eight o'clock, but my cough kept me
awake. In this way I spend my wretched existence.' And in
December he writes in a similar strain : ^ I am the most unhappy
of living men ; patience and resignation are my only motto.'
The five ladies assembled daily to discuss the reports from the
Emperor's sick-bed, and several of them accompanied the clergy
to the entrance of his room when they brought him the Sacraments
of the dying. The last note which he wrote was addressed to them
and brought by Count Lascy on the evening of the 19th to the house
of Princess Franz Liechtenstein, where they were gathered. Early the
next morning death released their imperial friend from his sufferings.
Even at this supreme moment the Princess Eleonore scarcely
did him justice. Her reference to him in a letter to her daughter
shortly before his death is painfully tinged with bitterness, for which,
however, she had special cause, as will be shown presently. Later
in life, when time and experience had softened the asperities of her
character, and also when she had learnt to judge him by comparison
with his feeble successors, she spoke with more appreciation. The
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646 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Oct.
following year already she wrote thus to her daughter : * The poor
late Emperor often made us furious, but what spirit, what Ufe, what
fire, what sense of justice he brought into everything ! At that time
there was always something new to talk and write about ; now every-
thing seems struck by i>aral]^s.'
The same campaign that certainly hastened the death of the
Emperor made Princess Eleonore a widow. When war broke out
with Turkey, Prince Charles got an important command in Croatia,
but his troops were insufficient ; he could not even rely on a portion
of them — ^the Croats. He accomplished little, and was obUged to
make one of those backward movements which the enemy is apt to
interpret as a flight. He fell ill and had to resign his command. Sb
wife, accompanied only by a man and a maid, undertook the diffi-
cult journey to Agram, where he was lying. He recovered sufficiently
to be taken back to Vienna, but his health was broken and he suffered
bitterly from the Emperor's evident displeasure. His appointment
as titular Field-Marshal without a word of mention of his forty-one
years of miUtary service could not allay his sorrow nor his wife's
anger with the Emperor. The Prince lingered on till the 21st of
February of the following year, when he died, to her great grief.
In a letter of condolence to Countess Eaunitz the Emperor, however,
spoke emphaticaUy of the loss that he and the State had sustained
in the late Prince.
The end of the reign of Joseph closed the brilUant epoch of the
Ufe of Eleonore. The ladies' soir6es continued for a time, but they
had lost their chief interest and significance. The Princess ceased
to play a conspicuous role in society. She, however, saw her old friends
very frequently, and remained in touch with the world of politics and
fashion by numerous personal Unks. Her sister's only child, Josephine
Kaunitz, married the then rising statesman, Count Clement Metter-
nich. The match was considered a poor one for the great Austrian
heiress, for the Mettemichs were * outsiders,' being of old West-
phalian nobiUty. The bride's aunt, however, was very partial to
the astute diplomat, who paid her becoming homage, but she did
not fully trust him, and scarcely approved of his appointment as
Chancellor at the early age of thirty-six.
As the mother of six children, of whom five were sons, there was
no lack of colour and interest in Princess Eleonore's widowed Ufe.
Her imperious disposition enhanced the difficulty of her relations
with her high-spirited sons, who objected to have their careers and
their wives chosen for them by their mother. They were aU bom
soldiers, but Prince Charles, the eldest, was forced into the civil
service, and Wenzel, the second, into the Church. Both were des-
perately wild. Charles settled down for a time after his marriage,
and held important appointments under the Emperor Francis, but he
afterwards got entangled in an affair of honour with a North German
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1905 A VIENNESE COUBT EPISODE 647
church digoitary whom he met at the house of the Jewish banker
Arnstein, whose wife, a charming and perfectly virtuous woman,
held a much-frequented salon, celebrated afterwards as a favourite
resort of Wellesley, Talleyrand, Humboldt, and Nessebode during
the Congress of Vienna. (That it was at the same time severely
shunned by the ladies of the Austrian aristocracy need not be said.)
Prince Charles was killed in this duel, leaving a young wife and child.
Wenzel, after being a scandal to his cloth for some years, at length
was relieved of his vows and became as good a soldier as he had been
a bad priest. The other three brothers at once adopted the pro-
fession of arms, and during the long series of wars with the French,
which with intervals of ignominious peace lasted for nearly twenty
years, the Princess was scarcely ever without a mother's poignant
anxiety for her soldier sons. In 1794 one of them — ^Francis, a lad
of eighteen — died of his wounds while in captivity with the French.
The others were frequently wounded or made prisoners. They
were all three in the army which capitulated at Ulm, that Austrian
Sedan, in 1805. It may easily be imagined what Princess Eleonore's
sufferings were during those terrible years, and how keenly her pride
and patriotism were wounded by the downfall of the German Empire
and the humiliation of Europe under the galling tyranny of Napoleon.
The chief joy of her declining years, as indeed of her whole
life after that child's birth, was in her only daughter, Josephine,
married in 1782 to Count Harrach, a distinguished and cultured
nobleman, who managed his large properties in Bohemia, Moravia,
and Austria proper in an enlightened and public-spirited manner.
His wife appears to have been a deh'ghtful woman, with a fine mind
and character, and marked musical talents. (The Emperor Joseph
was so charmed with her voice that he wrote a paper on the art of
singing, ' Reflexions sur le Chant,' especially for her.) The marriage
was happy but childless, and Josephine devoted much of her time
to her mother, who lost her dearly loved sister in 1795. In spite
of some differences of opinion, the relations between mother and
daughter were marked by the mutual tenderness that is a source
of exquisite happiness in the somewhat rare cases where it exists in
perfection. The expressions of passionate affection quoted by
M. Wolf put the reader in mind of Madame de SAvignA's letters to
the less responsive Madame de Grignan. A couple of extracts will
suffice to show this side of Eleonore's nature :
Only a word, my beloved daughter, to tell yon how heavy my heart is because
you are gone — you, my joy, my happin^s, my life.
God be with you on your journey, and make you happy. As regards myself,
you know that my thoughts and wishes are always with you. Our love, my
precious child, my only, my best friend, be our comfort, our support, our
refreshment, and all in cmd with God, for apart from Him there is no
happiness.
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648 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Oct.
In a woman of such healthy sincerity as ihe Princess Eleonoie,
there is no doubt that an utterance such as the last quoted was not
an empty figure of speech. Her religion was not merely a round
of outward observances. She was always an obedient daughter
of the Roman Catholic Church ; but if she had been a narrow bigot,
she could not have made the following striking statement : ' Wh^
one sees the bishops, how they think only of money and lands, one
must acknowledge that reUgion is only preserved by a miracle.^
Comparatively early in life she wrote (in 1792) : ' Happiness lies only
in ourselves; we seek it in vain in the bustle, the distractions of the
world, in rank and wealth ; as regards myself, I can sum up all philo-
sophical reflections on this subject in these two sentences : Gloria in
exceUis Deo^ et in terra pax homintbus bones volnntaiis.^ And in 1801 :
' I endeavour to make this my task, to look at matters with prayer,
gentleness, and consideration, and to promote whatever is good.'
She died peacefully, after a short illness, on the 26th of November,
1812. In spite of mental limitations and some faults of character,
she is, taken all in all, a noble figure, noble in her obedience to duty,
in her independence of judgment and conduct, in her life-long struggle
with those elements in her strong and passionate nature which she
knew to be hostile to the high principles that she professed with
unquestionable sincerity.
3. I. DE ZUYLEN DB NyEVELT.
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1905
BETWEEN TWO TRAINS
A smdli railway station, 10 a.m. A cold July morning. A group of
farmers possess the platform with their domirumt presence, A young
IcAourer, with a calf in a string, half hidden by the signal-box. An
old man is doddering up, bowed over his stick, A few village pas-
sengers on seat in shelter.
First Farmer {local dialect strong). Nasty oold maming as ever I
saw. / wam't coming out wi'out my top-coat, and so I tell 'ee ; and
I had a couple o' glasses o' whisky afore ever I got into the trap.
'Tain't weather to come out wi'out summut, be it, Mr. Moreland ?
Mr. Moreland (a very large farmer ; fifty ; in dress and manner a
good impersonation of a bluff country squire). Well, I took a glass
myself (indulgently). What, Mr. Hooper {to another), no great-coat ?
Second Farmer (huskily). Got it on in flannel. {Bell rings.)
Ten minutes late already. Why, here comes Mr. SteerweU !
[A smart, active man in clerical undress comes up with
pleasant greetings, for the mjoment interrupting the old
man, who was going to speak.
Mr. Moreland. You run it pretty fine, Vicar ! Lucky for you
she's a bit late.
Vicar. I was having a word with the road surveyor below, with
my eye on the signal.
Mr. Moreland. One eye on this world and the other on the next,
eh ? {AU laugh,) Well, 'lisha {to the old man), and what do you
want, then ?
Elisha Dax {ragged moleskins, very aged fancy waistcoat, frayed
cotton jacket). I d' hope, zur, as you'll do what you can wi' 'em so as
they'll let I stay. It do go agin my stomach fur to go into th' House.
Mr. Moreland {expostulatory). Now just you look here, Dax.
Your wife's dead, and there you are, alone, in a good two-roomed
cottage. Don't you be all for yourself like this. There are other
people in the world beside you. You've had it
EusHA. Fifty-one year come Michaelmas, zur, and ten on 'em
reared in them walls ; and rent paid reg'lar to the day up to last year,
as I got a bit behind along o'
Mr. Moreland. And you're six months back already. And
649
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660 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Oct.
Where's this year's lent coming from, I want to know ? Sons % Tau
ought to know 'em better than that ! It's job enough to get sixpence
a week oat of 'em towards your 'lowance, I can tell 'ee. Here I am
{with an air of injury) with two thousand acres o' land and not a
cottage as I can put another soul into ! And those — (coughs) — ^those
Radical papers going on about overcrowding !
ViGAB {gendy). Beddes, Elisha, you don't know how much better
off you would be. Mr. Welldone, the chairman, was
Mb. MoBBLAin). Oh, by the way, Steerwell, how did they settle
about that by-game at the Welldones ? Maud swears she was shunted.
What does Bfrs. Steerwell say ?
ViCAB. Oh, my wife is on Miss Moreland's side about it. It's to
be settled at the Hardings' this afternoon, I beheve.
Mb. Mobbland. You'll be there, of course ?
ViCAB {shakes his head toUh a smile). Been hiring Tallard's trap a
little too often lately.
Mb. Mobbland {loiih vigorow geniality). Nonsense, man ! Always
room for you and Bfrs. Steerwell in the waggonette. We'll call for
you at three. Can't get on wil^out you two. But I tell you what
it is, Steerwell. What with their tournaments, and Uieir visits, and
their dinner-parties, and the rest of it, my wife and Maud are fairly
run off their legs. I shall have to send 'em down to the sea to pull
'emselves together a bit, and come back fresh for the shooting parties.
Society is really too
ViOAB. Oh, of course, in your position, but {He indicates the
old man good-naturedly.)
Mb. Mobbland. Now, 'Lisha, just you take my advice. All your
life you've done as you was bid, and I'm sure you've come off well
wi' doing it. Don't you go getting nasty now. Just bringing ill-will
upon yourself for nothing !
Elisha. Ay, 'tis a bit late for I to begin wi' that game. But I
d' hope as you gen'lemen '11 have mercy
Mb. Mobbland {provoked). But, man, this is business ! Of course,
if I want the cottage
ViCAB {unth gentle reason). Of course, Elisha, if Mr. Moreland
wants the cottage
Mb. Mobbland. Here she comes ! Now, then, be careful with
that calf! {Looks angrily at young labourer, who has edged indis-
creetly fortmrd in his wish to overhear the conversation.) Where's
Hoffle, then ? Why isn't he here 1
Obobgb Dax (a big-Umbed young fellow of twenty-three, in cowyard
clothes, mucky to the knees). Please, sir
Mb. Mobbland. Well, some of you will hear a word about this
when I get back! You're coming back by the 11.40, too, aren't
you, Steerwell ? Organ again, I s'pose. Lord help our pockets I
In you get.
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1906 BETWEEN TWO TBAINS 661
ViOAR {getting in with a Icmgh), Nothing very bad this time, I hope.
[Passengers take their seats. The ocHf is put in. The train
moves offf leaving the only (ddghting passenger , a fair,
iveU-dressed, taHor-made young woman, wUh a smart
travelling-bag in her hand, confronting the young labourer
on the platform. The old man has turned his back, and
is hobbling slowly away. The two look at one another
with imperfect recognition.
Edith Barnes {About ttoenty. Two years'" service in a rich London
family. Quite capable of taking care of herself. After a longish pause.)
WeU?
George. Well, here you be, then.
Edith {itt-pleased). You can see that, I s'pose. And what brought
you here ?
Georoe. Got Jim Hoffle for to gi'e me the job o' taking down
that theer calf as I've bin and put in, just a-puppus for to meet 'ee.
Edith. I wish you hadn't, then. Haven't you better clothes than
them ? And the dirt ! Up to your knees ! And your hands !
Gborgb. Just you see I a-Sunday
Edith. Sunday ! Here, take hold of this, then. {Gives him the
hag.) Where is it they're living ? How's mother ?
George. Better a bit, she war this morning. Cross this here stile,
and it bain't but two fields.
[He makes an awkward attempt to put his arm round her at
thestHe.
Edith {indignant, and relapsing into her native tongue), k-done
now, will 'ee, ye girt fool !
George {sulkilAi). Ain't you got nothing better for to say to I
nor that, and me not seed 'ee going on two year ?
Edith. No, I haven't, so there ! If you'd made up your mind to
come to the train you might have made yourself decent, at any rate.
George {ruefully). A' couldn't get off fur to do it. 'Twas only
along o' Jim Hoffle ; and measter's main put out wi' ut as 'tis.
Edith. And serve you just right, too !
[They go on in silence, she in front, he following with the
bag, till atMtJier stile lands them in the village street.
He stops at the first house.
Edith. It isn't never here !
George {sulkily). 'Tis, then. I be off work arter five. You come
out, will 'ee 1
Edith {taking her bag). There ! Do go away. Here's someone
coining down the street.
George. 'Tain't only Miss Gollup at the Post. And what odds do
it make ?
[She turns from him and goes up a couple of steps to a
cottage abutting on the road. It is thatched, with waUs
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662 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Oct.
of timber and mbbk. A slight lean fortDord gives
it a look of senile decay, wMch is increased by the
patchy scaling off of whitewash and plaster. A stotU
woman comes out, with scanty hair uncombed and dress
half -open in front. She is yellow and shrunken, her
attitude that of a person unable to stand upright without
pain.
Krs. Barnes. Why, Edith, so you be come, then ! (She holds
out her arms joyfully.)
Edith {submitting to the embrace). I Uionght you was ill ! Oh,
yes, I'm glad you're better, but {Looks round with disgust.)
However did you come to get here ? So they hain't all of 'em at
home ?
BIrs. Barnes. Oh, yes, they be, my dear, all on 'em. There's
two wi' Mr. Moreland along wi' father ; and Jack, he's
Edith. Oh, there, mother, don't 'ee go on wi' ut ! AU of 'em !
And in this bit of a hole ! (Looks round small and squalid room,
humid with fetid exudation from walls and floor.)
BIrs. Barnes. But you've got your young man wi' ee, my dear.
Ay, he were round this morning a-axin' if you was coming ! Come
in, then, Jarge, along wi' her. Ay, there was tears at parting, wam't
there, then ? That was afore ever us thought o' leaving Middleham
for to come here.
Edith. And proper fools you was ! What ! For to leave a good
house like that
BIrs. Barnes. What could us do, my dear ? 'Twas along o' what
I wrote to 'ee. A handful it were, too. Just as much wheat as a
boy could put into 's breeches pocket. Well, right or wrong, us had
to pack. But there ! I've got 'ee back for a day and it'll be your
ault, Jarge, if you don't coax her over for to stay. Yes, I've bin
main bad, my dear. Summut wrong wi' my innards, as doctor says.
It's along o' being about a bit too soon arter a baby. There, I don't
vally a-telling of ut afore you, Jarge, seeing as
Edith (angry). DonH you go on Uke that, mother. All seven of
'em at home! And you and father! And where am I to sleep,
then?
Mrs. Barnes. Oh, we'll find room for 'ee, my dear, never you
fear. There's two bedrooms ; one ain't not so very big, but we do
call it a room. And
Edith. And where do Henrietta and Ellen go, then ?
Mrs. Barnes. Well, there's the biggest along o' we wi' the two
Uttle 'uns, and
Edith. And do you think as /
Mrs. Barnes (soothingly). There, my dear, you be tired. I'll
make 'ee a cup o' tea. I've a-got the kettle on, as I thought as you'd
come. And, Jarge, do you go outside for a bit, willj'ee ? She's a bit
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1905 BETWEEN TWO TBAINS 658
upset wi' ut all. I'll call 'ee in again so soon as she's had a drop
o' tea. We be like that, Jarge, all on us, whiles we be.
George (sullen). Ay, so it do seem.
[He goes out and stands leaning ^ round-shouldered, against
a fence outside. Eusha Dax hobbles up.
Elisha {with an assumption of authority). What be you a-doing,
then, Jarge ? You'll have the foreman arter 'ee. Why bain't you
in the yard ?
George {savagely). You mind your own business, then, will 'ee ?
Ain't it enough as father have a-got to pay sixpence a week for 'ee
already, wi'out your coming a-meddling wi' I ?
Elisha {indignant). 'Tain't no way fur to speak to your grand-
feyther, that bain't. Scores o' times I've a-gone wi' a pinched belly
for to put bread into the mouths o' your feyther and the rest on 'em !
George. Well, they didn't ax for to be bom, none on 'em, I'll go
bail. And if you'd a let 'em starve you'd a had the coroner down on
'ee pretty sharp, I can tell 'ee.
Elisha. What's come o' the Ten Commandments, then ? You just
teUIihat.
George. I do know 'em a sight better'n a drunken old fool, as
can't write his own name, ye can't. You talk to I as belong to choir
and Shut up, ye old Workus !
Eusha. Don't you call I tJiaty you young Umb, or I'll up an' tell
passon, I wull {crying).
George. And who's a-going to believe 'ee, d'ye think, ye spiteful
old toad?
Mrs. Barnes {at the door). Come in, Jarge. Don't you mind her
airs. Gals is Uke that. You take hold of her and give her a kiss,
like as you did when you parted. She'll come round.
Edith {as Oeorge comes in). Just let him come anigh me, that's
all ! I don't want no more of 'ee {to George), and so I tell 'ee.
A-coming down and disgracing me afore the gentry that way !
George. They was off in the train, everyone on 'em, afore ever I
come anigh 'ee ; and you do know it, ye false hussy.
Edith {furious). Just you hark to 'un, mother, a miscalling of I
afore your face ! {To George). Don't you never say a word to I
again, you
Mrs. Barnes {crying). Now don't 'ee go on like that, you two !
And me as was a-thinking as ther'd be a place for 'ee now, wi' your
old grandfather a-going to the House. And as you might have bin
guv out in church this next Sunday as ever is. {She sits down and
sobs.)
George. Ay, and I nigh as good as told
Edith {blazing up). You told ! You ! Then you just up this
minute and tell whoever 'twas as you be a drunken Ear ! You !
Look at him I
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664 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Oct.
George. Ay, hok^ if you be minded to look. I oome honest by
the clothes Pve a-got on my back. You be main fine ! Can you say
as much as that !
Mrs. Barnes {frightened). Tou be a-going a bit too far, Jaige.
Edith (white with anger). Mother, you hear 'un ? I swear as I'll
never speak one word to 'un again, not so long as I do Uve. Bain't
that enough for 'ee {to George) ! >iKj|
Mrs. Barnes. Oh, I've a-got that pain again in my innards ! Oh,
'tis terrible bad, it be ! {Bends forward in a cramp of agony.) Oh,
dear, dear! And I was a-thinldng as a bit of pleasantness was
a-coming to I. {She cries jnteously.)
Edith (frightened). Don't 'ee, then, mother. (To George.) (jet
out o' this, you swine, will 'ee 1 {She foUows him out, casting the
words after him into the street.)
George (goes down the steps doggedly). I never axed for to be bom.
I do know that.
\He walks away, then tuims rounds hearing a jeering laugh
bdiind him. A sturdy young woman^ almost in rags, is
walking up the street, a hay-rake on her shoulder and a
baby of a few months old cuddled against her boeom.
The white sun-bonnet shows forcibly the nut-brown tan
of her face and bare neck. She is a field-woman all
over. Her laugh flicks his temper like the swish of a
nettle.
'Liza Hack. Gi'ed 'ee the chuck, then, Jarge ? Don't sound like
coortin', that don't.
[George takes no notice. He looks dangerous, like a siUky
bidlock, capable of one vicious plunge. Then, as she
stops in front of him.
George. Keep off, then, I tell 'ee (savagdy).
'Liza. Don't be a fool, Jarge. / hain't afeared of 'ee. You ain't
the fust as a young 'ooman have a-throwed over.
George (bitterly). No ; you was made for that, the lot of 'ee. But
'tis t'other way about sometimes, it do seem {looking spitefully at the
baby).
'Liza {laughs and gives the baby a hug). So 'tis, then. Well, us do
get over it, and you'll get over it.
George. Ay, wi' an ounce o' sparrer-shot in my skull, same as
Jack Baxter.
'Liza. Now don't 'ee talk that way, Jarge. 'Tain't all black wi'
no 'un. And see ! The words wam't out o' my mouth when the
sun did pop out. See, then, baby ! Pretty sun !
George. Ay, 'tis the baby wi' you now. Much you do care for
the man.
'Liza {philosophically). Well, I were fond on 'un once, and 'tain't
no fault o' mine that he runned away from 's word. I dare say I'd
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bin as good a wife as another 'un. But th^e, 'tis life. Us ain't
a-going for to shut our eyes agin the sun, when the sun do come out,
be us, baby ? {Baby crows and dvichea at her gown,)
George (unable to resist the desire of expansion)^ 'Tain't the gal so
much as the chance. There's grandfather have a-got to trot, and the
cottage on measter's hands ; and he'd a-guv it to I, if so be I was
a-going fur to marry. 'Cos he do favour I, along o' me being bred up
wi' shorthorns and knowledgable like. And now he'll put in summun
wi' wife and childer, and there wun't be another cottage empty not
till the Lord knows when ! {The idea is too much for him. He turns
and kicks viciously ai a bit of dirt,) I'll go for a soldier, blarmed if
I don't.
'Liza. Hark ! There's the train. He'll be round in five minutes,
and then you'll hear summut.
George {recklessly). I don't care. 'Twas the one chance for I o'
having things a bit comfortable ; and I've bin and lost it.
'Liza. Now you listen to I, Jarge. Just you go back to your
work reasonable-like, afore he comes up. And next time as he's in a
pretty fairish temper you up and ax 'un for the cottage.
George. And a lot I'd get wi' doing that ! Tell me to go to hell,
as like as not.
'Liza. Not if you do do as I tell 'ee. Tou look a bit knowing,
as if it were all right wi' you and whoever the gal is. And ten to one
he won't ax.
George. And when he do come to find out as there isn't no 'un
there'd be a pot a-b'iling over, and so I teU 'ee.
'Liza {with good-natured contempt). Oh, you be a girt lumping
fool, Jarge ! Why, ain't there Mary Stone, wi' her eyes half out of
her head a-lookrog arter 'ee ?
George. Mary Stone ! I wouldn't touch her, not wi' that hay-
rake o' youm.
'Liza. Well, she ain't the only 'un. Flora Boyd, then.
George {coming closer to her). Thank 'ee for nothing, 'Liza, if
that's yer advice. Come, ain't there another yet, a bit nigher to I
at this minute nor either o' them two ? Be quick wi' ut. Here they
be, coming round the comer, measter and passon both; and that
dratted old wosbird of a grandfather o' mine along of 'em, as there's
no knowing what he wun't say for to get hisself let to stay. Out wi'
the word !
'Liza. And — and baby, Jarge ?
George. I'll take the pair on 'ee {largely). See how he do stretch
hisself to I, as you do hold un up !
'Liza. Well, I won't say no, Jarge.
[They look at each other. Her colour rises.
George {suddenly struck with a misgiving). But what'll passon
Bay i And me in the choir and all !
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'Liza. Never you fear he, Jarge. Speak to the measter, I tell 'ee.
Yon get the measter o' your side and the man '11 follow right enough.
And now I be off. [She slips away as the pofty of three come up.
Mr. Moreland {sternly). What are you doing here, Dax ? Why
aren't you at your work ?
Qeorgb. Please, sir, I had summut for to say as wouldn't keep.
Me and 'Liza Hack has made it up fur to ax you for grandfaUier's
cottage.
ViOAB (aghast). You and EUza Hack !
Mr. Moreland (laughing heartily). 0-h-h ! Thai's it, is it ? 'Liza
Hack ! / saw her steal away as if she'd heard the hounds. Well,
she's a likely heifer enough. You shall have it, Greorge. D'ye hear
that, 'Lisha ?
Vicar (serums). Well, (Jeorge, I suppose I must congratulate you.
(ToEusHA Dax.) Elisha, I am sure the young couple will have your
good wishes. I hope they may Uve to bring up a family like yours,
boys for my choir, regular attendants at church, and
Mr. Moreland. And good strapping labourers for my farm, boys
and girls. That's the ticket! Who's this coming out of Barnes's
cottage ?
George. I heerd say, sir, as Mrs. Barnes's daughter, as is in
service in London, was a-coming down to-day.
Mr. Moreland. Well, I'm How they do dress, these girls !
Edith Barnes (comes up, bag in hand, and bows slightly in the
direction of the tnca/r ; she speaks with the tips of her lips, mindngly
and sdf-respectingly). My mother wished me to leave word at the
vicarage that she would be glad to see the doctor, sir, in case you
should be going to the dispensary ; but, seeing you
Vicar (heartily). That's quite right. I'm going down, and will
leave word. I hope your mother is not worse. You are staying
with her, I think ?
Edith Barnes. She is not so well as I could wish, sir. I am sorry
not to be able to remain with her. I have to return to town to-day,
and am now on my way to catch the fast train at Cowham.
[She again inclines her head and walks on.
Mr. Moreland (to the old man). Well, 'Lisha, that's what I call
pleasantly settled. You go out, and your own grandson comes in.
D'ye hear that ?
Elisha Dax. Ay, I do hear. The young ain't no mercy on the
old.
D. C. Pbddbr.
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NATURE GARDENS
Thbbb are two main kinds of flower gardens in the United Kingdom,
just as there are two kinds of cricket, Amateur and Professional
cricket. There is the pleasure game and the pleasure garden, and
the business game — dull and monotonous — and the business garden,
also dull and monotonous. In other words there is the garden that
a man contrives for his own pleasure and recreation and the garden
which, when he is too busy, too lazy, or too wanting in initiative, he
pays his gardener to make and manage for him.
We all know what sort of garden that is. It was already in
existence in pre- Victorian days and it flourished greatly all through
the great Queen's long reign. It has been abated, but not sensibly
reformed, during the aesthetic renaissan& of recent years which
has done so much for other branches of our domestic art. Go where
we will, by road or rail, in these islands, we see the professional garden,
the gardener's garden ; flower-beds of various shapes, round, oblong,
square, slug-shaped and ribbon-shaped, cut out on an area of flat
turf. Into these unlovely receptacles are crowded, in mid-May, pot
plants which have been kept alive through the winter, under glass,
with artificial heat.
By the middle or end of June, these beds become dazzling masses
of colour, mostly very inharmonioudy combined on a background
of green turf. With tiie first firosts of autumn these great bouquets
of blossom fade and fail and are presently removed, and the bare beds
are dug over, neatly raked and so left — ^to remain objects about
as inspiriting as new-made graves in a green churchyard, till summer
comes round again. If the owner can stand the cost, the beds are
filled with bulbs and spring-flowering plants, to make a show in the
spring months, but the expense is considerable and the effect but poor.
I do not aUege that this is the only form of English gardening, but it
is still the main stand-by of the professional gardener, and I maintain
that it is expensive and that it is inartistic, for crude masses of colour
against green turf can never be beautiful in any aesthetic sense, that,
if it is a joy to any one, it is a short-lived one, for it only begins at Mid-
summer and is over in October. It therefore sins against the canon
of our greatest writer on the making of gardens, Francis Bacon, who
Vot. LVUI— No. 844 657 X X
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laid it down that Ver perpetuum should reign in the English garden,
perpetual Spring, and that it should be full of plant life from January
to December. Our English gardens of the sort I have described are,
moreover, damp under foot in wet weather, unsheltered in winds, and
quite unshaded from the sun.
After all, we must come back to the question, what do men seek
in a garden ? Do they want only a place where flowers grow and
blossom, a mere botanical garden, or do they desire to set apart
a piece of land in which they can take their pleasure at all seasons
of the year ? I think that is the best definition of the garden that
we love. It should be a place in which we can take the air at our
ease and comfort, in which we can walk, lounge, saunter, sit, talk,
read, and even take a meal : a roofless room, with flower-spangled turf
for carpet, shrubs and flowering plants for ornaments and pictures,
and the warm sun itself for fire hearth. Flowers in this garden should
be rather accidents than essentials. Such a garden deserves the name
it got from the old writers — ^it is a ' pleasance ' rather than a flower
garden, and one would like to see the word revived.
Let us define our * pleasance ' more at large. It should afford
shelter from cold winds and shade firom the sun in the summer heat.
There should be nooks where the pale suns of winter should be re-
fracted and others where the heat from the summer sky should be
intercepted. It should be dry underfoot, and the air should be free
of exhalations from a damp and ill-drained sub-soil ; the walking
should be smooth and soft, and the footstep noiseless, never on rough
gravel that grates underfoot. This acre of the earth's surface, or
this quarter of an acre, or this tenth part of an acre — for its size is
no essential consideration — should be a microcosm, a little world in
itself, a concentration, within its tiny limits, of all which the natund
world holds to delight us. The mountain, the wood, the river, tiie
lake, the waterfall, even the marsh, should all be repeated in little,
and on these mimic hills, in these tiny forests, and by tiiese miniature
streams, pools, and marshes, should grow and bloom the very flowers,
plants, and ferns which are natives of the rocky mountain range,
the lake side, the forest glades, the river bank, and the marshy plain.
They should grow as they grow in Nature, now profusely, now singly,
now in groups, amid congenial herbs and grasses, mosses, ferns, and reeds.
Two objections may be brought against a garden of this kind —
first, that it would be extremely costly ; secondly, that it is nothing
else than the gardening of Japan. The fiirst objection is not a real
one. The prime cost of laying the foundations of what may be called
a nature garden need be no greater than the levelling, draining^
turfing, and laying out of any other garden, and its up-keep would be
infinitely less. No greenhouses would be required, no artificial heat,
no highly paid staff of skilled gardeners, and no heavy annual expen-
diture for edirubs, bedding plants, and seeds.
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1906 NATUBE GARDENS 669
The second objection is better founded. It is in point of fact
a gaiden laid out on the lines of the Japanese. And what of that ?
If the Japanese have discovered the true principles of gardenings
and make their gardens on right lines, we have no alternative but
to follow them. We have adopted, before now, the gardening ideals
of many other nations : of the Italians with their balustraded terraces,
their rows of sky-pointing cypresses, their glistening marble statues
and broad, paved stairways, leading firom terraced walks to the garden
plane below. We have borrowed the Spanish way of gardening,
which, at its'best, is a garden of shaded walks, in the Eastern fashion,
amid the scent of jasmine and orange flowers and roses and clove
gillyflowers, with fountains and water runlets everywhere, and intricate
knots of box edgings to the flower beds. We have had Dutch gardens in
England, with their paved pathways and formal beds, fishponds and
canals, and box cut into grotesque shapes. All these gardening ideals
are good in their kind, but the Italian and Spanish gardens have never
found a congenial home under these Northern skies. They require
the climate of Spain and Italy. The Dutch way of gardening better
suits our climate, and perhaps its formality our order-loving tempera-
ment— ^it is the only foreign garden form that has been thoroughly
naturalised, for the stately gardening of the French Le Notre has
never been popular in England, and the most beautiful and famous
of our old country-house gardens are in the Dutch style, or in a free
English modification of it.
We need, however, have no shame in borrowing from any one, for
if we English have taken ideas from abroad, we have given as good
as we brought. The so-called ' English garden ' is known everywhere
on the Continent. The English garden as understood abroad is,
properly speaking, not a garden at all, it is a method of laying out the
whole of the grounds near a house in the free fashion supposed to suit
with our free institutions. It is, in point of fact, the system of land-
scape gardening which those famous English innovators, William Kent
and Lancelot Brown, better known as ' Capability Brown,' practised
and published to the world in the eighteenth century. Their idea was
to convert the surroundings of an English country house into the
semblance of a landscape by Nicolas Poussin or Oaude Lorraine —
the two most approved landscape painters of that day. The garden
itself made but a small part of their great schemes of reform — ^hillocks
which interfered with a picturesque point of view were levelled,
brooks were dammed into lakes, vistas were cut through distant
woods, rising ground was levelled into plain, shrubberies and tree
groups were planted where Poussin would have painted masses of
foliage. Artificial ruins were built in imitation of the broken
arches and towers that Claude sometimes puts in the middle distance
of his pictures.
If we come to look into it, this English landscape gardening is
zx 2
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nothing leas than doing on a large scale what the Japanese are daily
doing on a very small one. The Japanese strive to make of their
gardens a landscape in miniature, to repeat, in an area of a square
rood, all that charms tiiem in Nature at large.
There need therefore be nothing starUingly new in the idea of a
nature garden to Englishmen — we are but applying established
principles of our own discovery, and we shall certainly not blindly
copy the Japanese — ^for instance, we could not, except at enormous
cost of money and time, follow tiiem in employing the dwarf jnnes
and oaks which they use to mimic forest trees — ^nor should we
repeat the stone lanterns and other ornaments which they set at the
crossing of their garden paths, and which have a symbolical meaning
to them alone. These things, realities to them, would be as much
shams to us as when a London citizen sets up a plaster cast of Pan or
the Qod Terminus in his suburban back garden.
As to the making of a nature garden, it is of course a matter wherein
there is as much variety possible as in Nature itself, but the chcHoe
and preparation of the ground — ^the foundation, so to say, of the
superstructure — are the same in every case. As for size it may vary. I
consider half a rood — say twenty yards by thirty — a fair size — ^a larger
area involves much expense, and a much smaUer one is but a toy.
If the ground is a dead level, it costs the more to mould it into hill
and vaUey and plain. If it slopes to the north or east it is too cold
for successful gardening. The ground should not be in the neigh-
bourhood, and in the shadow, at any hour of the day, of tall trees.
If there is no protection to the north and east, something in the nature
of wind-screens must be raised — ^a wall, or paling, or a thick hedge of
evergreen, but this latter is slow of growth. The screen, of whatever
kind it be, should be six to twelve feet high, according to the size of tiie
area to be enclosed. All these requirements given, there is one more —
and that is a water supply. Every garden requires water, but, for a
nature garden of the kind here intended, a stream of water must trickle
through of not less than two to six gallons per minute. This will supply
a tiny meandering stream, a miniature lake, a marsh, and a cascade
that may be called a water-trickle, but it will serve to bestow a
certain air of reality and it will give life and verdure to those
mosses, ferns, and water-loving plants that will thrive nowhere but in
air sprinkled by drops of falling water.
The work of preparation cannot well be seriously begun until a
rough sketch of the garden has been made, or, better still, a model
in clay or plasticine, but, while this is being done, it would be well
to begin by paring and drying and burning the whole surface to the
depth of three or four inches. When this is done, the humus sur&oe
should be removed and heaped outside the limits of tiie proposed
garden. Then the lines of the paths and of the courses and situations
of the stream, lakes, pools, and marshes should be pegged out, and
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deep stone drams made underneath all the paths leading, with a good
fall, to an exit outside the plot of ground to be worked.
Now begins the real work, and I admit that it is neither easy,
nor work to be undertaken by any one not endowed with the artistic
spirit and some habit of observation and some imagination. If it were
a garden of my own that was in making, I would rather entrust the
doing of this part of the job to a boy or girl of fifteen, with a faculty
of sketching or modelling firom Nature, than to the best of professional
gardeners without that knowledge and talent, for it is nothing else
than the composing of a landscape, the moulding of it out of earth
and stones, the planning of the relative positions of rivers, lakes,
plains, hillock and mountain range — all in miniature — and aU so com-
bined that they will seem like a bit of Nature^s self, harmonious in
line and light and shade — as Nature always is — hova whatever point
of view it is regarded.
The tools wherewith the landscape is to be composed are the
labourer's pick and shovel, the materials the bare earth, and some
cartfuls of large rough stones, and the stream of water I have already
spoken of. When all is duly moulded into landscape shape, the
paths made, the water-courses, the lakes, marshes and cascades dug
out, every place where water is to run, or stand, must be lined with
a water-resisting cement.
The surface soil which has been heaped outside must now be brought
in and the ashes of the burnt weeds spread over it.
The paths are still to be carried across the stream, summer-houses
built, and seats and tables made. This is carpenter's work ; unless
it is desired to carry the paths over the water-courses across roughly
built stone arches, by no means a costly operation if the mason is
reasonable and will consent to work with unhewn stones.
I think that in a garden made in this manner in this country
care should be taken to avoid the note of Orientalism ; the bridges
should not be the high-backed little bridges of China or Japan, or
the summer-houses of the architecture that we see on porcelain cups
and saucers. A British nature garden should represent, imitate, and
interpret our British nature, and the water ways should be crossed
by such means as our own rustics use, sometimes by nothing but
a stout plank with a hand rail, sometimes, when the water is shallow
and broad, only by smooth stepping stones. When aU this is ended,
the water can be admitted and the labourers dismissed.
The easier work of planting and sowing now remains. It must
be borne in mind that, as the nature garden is a landscape in little,
so everything which grows therein must be in proportion and in
little too. The Japanese, as I have said, effect this by dwarfing
forest trees to the size of pot plants, and planting, on a mountain
side, a wood that can be covered by a dinner napkin, with the moim-
tain itself no taller than a man. The proportion is so duly maintained
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that the eye is deceived into looking at it as a forest-clothed mountain
range, and this is not so much artifice as art and somewhat in the
same line as the art whereby Turner shows us all th^ magnificence
of Alpine scenery with mountains no loftier than walnut shells, on a
canvas ten inches square.
We know nothing of the art of dwarfing trees in the Japanese
fashion, and the few specimens brought to us are said to have required
scores of years to arrive at the appearances of picturesque senility
they have attained. Gardeners, however, know that if a plant
be denied free root growth, afforded plenty of light and air, and is
rooted in poor soil, its growth is arrested while its health is in no
way impaired. Every one must have noticed how forest trees, de-
ciduous and conifer, seeding in waste and stony places, on rocky
cliffs, or the edge of ravines, with no lack of light and air, have grown
in years but not in size, remaining dwarfs while sometimes taking
on a very picturesque branch-spread and possessing the gnarled trunks
and knotted boughs of aged trees. I know of no one who has tried
the experiment, but I am pretty sure that nature-dwarfed trees of
this kind, removed into pots and judiciously pruned in roots and
branches, would continue to thrive if treated as Nature has treated
them so far. This is how I think woods and forests might be repeated
in our nature gardens.
Every plant and fern in the garden must be dwarfed in like manner
to the trees, and, to this end, two means must be employed : the soil
must be artificially made poor and stony, and plants must be selected
of an exceptionally dwarf habit. A plant drawn up into a tall, strag-
gling habit by deficiency of light, or developing into excessive luxuriance
in too rich a soil, will, so to say, throw the whole composition out of
scale, and be, in artists' phrase, ' out of the picture.'
So far as the choice of plants is concerned, there are two courses
open to the nature gardener. He can either use none but selections
from the flora of the British Islands, or he can procure hardy flowering
plants from every quarter of the world. The first course recommends
itself to me in theory as being in artistic accordance with an English
nature garden, but in practice it would be tame and would shut out
many families of plants indispensable to such a garden. For example,
we could use Alpine plants, many of which are dwarf by virtue of
long habit of growth under the very conditions mentioned above^
the stonecrops among many others, and the saxifrages. We have
but one narcissus in this country, the daffodil, and it is not of dwarf
growth, but in the mountainous region that looks on the Bay of Biscay
and the Western Atlantic are found some half-dozen species of this
genus, such as Triandrus, Johnsonei, and Bulbocodium, more delicate
in shape and colour than our native Lent lily and some of them no taller
than a snowdrop or a dog violet ; so too with the iris family, we have
but three or four kinds in these Islands and none of them dwarfs.
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To make a heap of stones and earth resemble a real momitain
it is nece8sar7 to do more than pile up several barrowfnls of stones,
rocks, and earth. Every mountain on the earth's surface has grown
to its existing shape through the long processes of time. The air,
the sun, and plant growth decompose the rock surfaces, and rains
wash their substance down towards the valley below in the form of
mud or sand. Hence almost invariably the upper cliffs on a moun-
tain are bare and precipitous, and the earth and broken rock accu-
mulate in a gentler declivity at their base. Where the soil is deep on
this talus, or slope, grow the Alpine forest trees, and sometimes these
sloping upland lawns are covered with turf greener than emerald.
Where the bare scarped rock first meets the slope of the talus is the
chosen habitat of many plants peculiar to the mountain side. Wherever
a river flows at the foot of a mountain it washes away this slope of
dSbris and the mountain side is left bare and rugged to the water's
edge, and plant growth is found oidy here and there in clefts and
crannies on its rocky surface.
All this must be imitated in the mimic mountains and valleys of
the nature garden, and flowers only planted in their appropriate
habitat. Let us suppose, for instance, that a range of hills is formed,
and at its foot a mimic river is made to flow. The stream would
flow, wide and slow and shallow, through a plain at the mountain
foot. Where the river runs at some distance from the mountain
side, the talus would reach down into the plain. The plain itself
would be marshy, with occasional overflow from the river, and the
water-course would narrow as it passes through a narrow gorge,
with the hill side on one bank, and a rocky eminence on the other.
Here the water might flow over a rocky ridge more swiftly, forming
rapids, having sliced off the talus and left the hill sides, on either
bank, precipitous and rocky. Such a valley, such a plain, such a marsh,
and such a gorge with a rapid stream flowing through are conmion inci-
dents of mountain and river scenery.
Each bit of hill and plain so laid out will serve as appropriate
habitat for its special plants. On the bare rock itself lichens will
establish themselves with time. Where it is damper, mosses could be
made to grow, and, in the clefts and crannies, all that peculiar vegeta-
tion which is found only on rocky surfaces. Dwarf mountain forms
of the sedums, the scorpion grasses, the star-worts, and saxi&ages
should be planted on the gentler slopes, green with the finer grasses,
and, mingling with them, place will be found for the flowers which
grow in the talus of lofty hills, the globe-flower, the sky-blue gentians,
the edelweiss, the silver thistles, the rampions, the mountain colum-
bines, the many dwarf campanulas, and the various mountain forms of
pinks and primulas, and in the marshes flowering rushes and sedges,
the grass of Parnassus, snake-weed with its rosy blossom, cotton grass,
reeds, and the yellow iris. The pools and deeper water of the marshes
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will afford congenial homes for water lilies of several kinds, and many
of those floating water plants whose blossoms have a strangeness
and a beauty that the flowers of the dry ground seldom possess.
The margins of the stream are fit haunts and habitats for scores of
river-bank haunting plants, notably for some kinds of iris that never
thrive so well away from water.
The choice of plants for a nature garden is indeed as universal as
the world itself. There is, however, one restriction to be observed —
a nature garden should contain none but natural plants. The so-called
*' florist's flowers,' charming and beautiful as they are in the artificial
garden to which they rightly belong, have no place here. All the
flowers which have been tricked by conditions not in Nature must
be omitted, however showy they are in comparison with Nature's
own children; all the hybrids, double flowers, and improved 'varieties *
must be kept out, not because they are not beautiful — ^but because
their presence in a nature garden brings in a false note. Even ike
rose and the carnation in their double form — the queens and
princesses among them all — ^must be kept out.
Our gardener's ideal of a flower bed is a ' fine display of bloom,'
of a single plant a ' nice shrubby growth.' These ideals are not the
nature gardener's. He gets plenty of bloom, but he strives not for
* display ' but for harmony. He gets colour with a steep river bank
crowded with yellow primroses in bloom and each individual flower
repeating its image in the water mirror below. He gets it when he
has planted a dell a yard across thick with squills and blue bells
among the grass.
Another law of the nature garden is that plants must not be re-
moved when they Jiave done flowering and a fresh succession * dumped *
down in their places. One object of the nature garden is to provide
the exact conditions of exposure, soil, dryness, or humidity which
suits a plant and there to let it live its life, there to let it put forth its
green leaves in spring and its blossom in smnmer, there to wither
and die down, if its way is to wither and die down, in winter.
To bring this about, to produce dryness of the soil in one place,
damp in anotiier, full exposure here and comparative shade there,
some of Nature's own processes must be imitated.
Hills and mountains are not, as casual people might suppose,
great heaps of earth and rock set down on the world's surface at
random. They are, for the most part, rocky formations thrust up-
wards by some internal force ; elevations which have slowly crumbled
down into their present shapes, and the soil, that covers them in part,
is but a skin. Wherever the subteiTanean stratification of solid
rock slants in one direction, in that direction will the accumulation of
the under-soil rainwater drain. So it comes to be that the higher parts of
hills are mostly dry and that water-springs, or even brooks, gush from
the lower declivities of the hill sides. This condition o& things may
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1906 NATURE GABDEN8 665
be easily imitated in little ; flat stones, jointed with cement, may be
laid haU way down in the centre of the stone heap which forms the
hill range, and set with a gentle inclination to one side in such a way
as to hold the water in a subterranean cistern and pour it out little
by little in springs and fountains — ^just as happens in Nature.
Nature is complicated and subtle in her contrivances and we have
as yet not nearly guessed all her cunning. In making a nature garden
we are entitled to use every artificial contrivance we can devise in
order the better to arrive at her effects. To this end I would carry
some part of the water supply underground in leaden pipes to the
highest point of the mountain range and let it trickle out through
perforations in the conduit. This will imitate the dew and rainfall
of the mountain top, always greater there than in the plain below.
In the sandy drifts and levels of river sides and by the sea shore
many curious and interesting plants grow that will thrive nowhere
else so well as when they can burrow with their roots deep into the
sand drifts on the river side, or the salted, shelly, sea-sand above
high-water mark. Here sea-pinks, the homed poppies, sea-lavender,
and many other plants still more beautiful, of foreign provenance,
will grow and thrive. I do not propose a brackish lake or pool,
though the thing is perhaps within the resources of an enterprising
gardener, but a few handfuls of bay salt mingled with sand brought
from the shore would give a soil in which many sea-side plants would
more than hold their own.
I have said that, in making such British garden pleasances as are
here suggested, British scenery should be reproduced, but to do this
need not narrow the gardener's scope — ^for every county in the United
Kingdom can supply its different landscape, every geological forma-
tion its scores of varieties. Limestone, red 'sandstone, chalk, granite,
oolite, and volcanic rock all give mountains of different formation and
different shape, and each has a more or less differing flora.
There remains now to be considered only the question of shade
from the severe heat and shelter from cold winds. The plot of ground
is too small for the natural shade of trees, which also, if of their full
size, would dwarf the whole garden ; therefore there is nothing for it
but a summer-house. It should be constructed as simply as may be,
with trellised sides, overgrown by honejrsuckle and wild roses, and
should have a heavy roof with low eaves, of thatch or shingle stone,
to intercept the sun's rajrs. The south of England cottager's porch
should be the model. It should be set on rising ground in the comer
where the eastern and north walls of the enclosiire meet. A second
summer-house with boarded sides and with a similar roof for shelter
from wind and rain should be set in the opposite comer of the garden.
As for extraneous ornament of any kind it is wholly inadmissible,
so likewise are iron seats or tables or any shams in the way of iron
edgings of paths, taking the shape of tree twigs. The seats should be
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666 THE NINETEENTH GENTUBY Oct.
of wood, not painted green, but left with a coating of boiled oil of
the natural colour of the wood. Sham rusticities such as seats and
tables left with the bark on are not to be thought of. A sun dial I
would have — ^it is near to Nature's own timepieces, the moving
shadows of hills and trees — ^but its gnomon and numerals should
rather be set and drawn upon a wall than fixed upon a pedestal
in the garden walk. As for the walks themselves they should resemble
in width and direction those footpaths and ways through field and
meadow which our forefathers have trodden out since the time of
the Heptarchy. I never could understand the virtue of gravel in
a garden. It not only grits most unpleasantly under foot, but is
never so harmonious with turf or flowers as the rich brown of the
natural earth. A foot-beaten, earthen pathway is dry underfoot in all
weathers, as well as pleasant to walk on, if a stone drain runs under-
neath it and if a little sand is mingled with the earth of which it is
composed.
This account of the nature garden, with the limited space at the
writer's command, is suggestive only. The possibilities of nature
gardening are almost infinite. No two such gardens need be alike either
in composition, or in contents, or in size. Although I have suggested
a garden hardly larger than a drawing-room, such a garden would
increase in interest and in beauty with every increase in its area.
The chief obstacle in the way of the popular adoption of the nature
garden in our country lies in the initial difficulty of laying it out,
and of engineering it when designed. I suggest that the design and
formation of such gardens should be a special subject of study
in the new school of women gardeners. Here if anywhere might be
found a new profession for women.
Oswald Cbawfurd.
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1905
QUEEN CHRISTINAS MINIATURE
PAINTER
In December last the Swedish Minister had an article in this Review
relating to Queen Christina, but there is one special interest that
the Queen has for English students to which but little attention has
been given, and which is not alluded to in that article. Queen Chris-
tina was a notable patron of art, and had attached to her Court several
portrait painters, one of whom was an Englishman. Comparatively
little has hitherto been known respecting this English painter, Alex-
ander Cooper by name, and some recently discovered facts respecting
him may be found of interest. He was a brother of Samuel Cooper,
the greatest miniature painter that the world has ever seen, whose
works are the finest ever achieved in this particularly English branch
of art.
Horace Walpole tells us that Alexander Cooper was the nephew
of John Hoskins, and the brother of Samuel Cooper, and that he
* went abroad, resided some time at Amsterdam, and at last entered
into the service of Queen Christina.' He adds that he 'painted
landscapes in water-colours, as well as portraits,' and refers to a
landscape with the story of Actseon and Diana, which was in his
time at Burghley, but is now no longer to be seen there. The great
connoisseur had in his possession a miniature of a lady which was,
he considered, the work of Alexander Cooper, and at the Strawberry
Hill sale it was sold for two guineas. The only other reference that
Walpole makes to Cooper is in connection with his note on Henry
Hondius, the engraver, where he states that Hondius, in 1641, en-
graved a print of William, Prince of Orange, from a painting by
Alexander Cooper. Beyond this information we can only gather a
scrap or two from the compilers of biographical dictionaries. One
tells us that the artist resided for a time in London with his brother ;
another that he was bom in 1605, and was therefore four years older
than Samuel Cooper ; and a third that he left England when quite
a young man, and never returned to this country.
To this somewhat meagre collection of statements we have been
able, lately, to add considerably, as the result of investigation in
667
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668 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Oct.
State archives in Holland and Sweden, and facts have been revealed
dealing with a part of the artistes life hitherto unknown. The
history of his career in Sweden commences in 1647, but we have a
little information concerning his work in 1632 and 1633. During
those years Cooper was resident at the Hague, and was painting a
series of portraits for the King and Queen of Bohemia. These
delightful little miniatures are now the property of the Grerman Em-
peror, and are set in a series of twelve circular discs, which fold one
over the other, and form, when folded together, a little {ole about a
couple of inches high. The top and bottom discs bear the royal
crown and monogram and the date 1633, in white on a black ground,
and at the back of each portrait, in the same coloured enamel, are the
name and age of the person whose portrait is contained in the disc
at the date, and also the record when it was painted. The edges of
all the discs are enamelled in the same way in a pattern of transverse
lines in the Bohemian colours. The portraits of the Elector Frederick
and his English wife are thus inscribed : ' Frederick R.B., aetat. 36,
16. August, 1632,* and ' Elizabeth R.B., »tat. 36, 9. August, 1632.'
The one of the King was painted in the very year of his death, as on
the 28th of November, 1632, he died of an infectious disease he had
contracted at Frankfort, which took him ofi at Mainz as he was
on his way into Holland to his wife and children.
The other portraits in the series represent the children of this
amiable and accomplished royal pair, but three of them, those which
should represent Prince Gustavus, Prince Edward, and Princess
Sophia, are no longer in their frames. It is quite possible that they
were never executed, but it seems more likely that they have been
lost. All the rest are, however, in their place, and are delightful
portraits of children, serious, thoughtful, and grave. On each one
is inscribed the age of the child and the date on which the portrait
was painted. The eldest son, Charles, was painted on the 22nd of
December, 1632, when he was fourteen years old. He was the prince
who was so enthusiastic a supporter of English drama, who quoted
Shakespeare freely, and translated and acted inBenJonson's£>6/ant<«.
Prince Rupert * of the Rhine ' was but twelve when his portrait was
taken on the 27th of December, 1632, and his brother Maurice, equally
distinguished in the English civil wars, was a year younger, and was
painted on the 6th of January, 1632. Philip, who was killed in
battle in Germany when twenty-three years of age, was painted on
the 26th of October, 1632, and was five years old at the time. Of
the other four sons we have no portraits. The eldest, Frederick
Henry, was never painted by Cooper, having been drowned in 1629 ;
the fifth son died in infancy ; and, as just stated, the portraitsof Edward
and Gustavus are missing. The disc that should contain the (me of
Prince Edward is inscribed '-ffitat. 8, 6th of October, 1632,' and that
for Prince Gustavus ' -^tat. 1, 4th of January, 1633.'
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1905 GHBISTINA'S MINIATURE PAINTER 669
There are portraits in the series of three of the daughters — ^Elizabeth,
the friend of William Penn and of Descartes, and the lady to whom
the latter dedicated his Prinoipia, painted when she was thirteen,
on the 26th of November, 1632; Louisa, afterwards Abbess of
Maubuisson, who was painted at the age of ten, on the 8th of April,
1632 ; and Henrietta, afterwards Princess of Transylvania, who was
but six when her portrait was painted on the 7th of July, 1632. It
would have been specially interesting to Englishmen to have seen the
portrait of the youngest daughter, Sophia, as she it was who was the
ancestress of the Hanoverian sovereigns, and of the djmasty that now
occupies the throne of England. The disc that should contain her
portrait is inscribed ' ^tat. 2, 14th October, 1633.'
These portraits tell us that Cooper was a pretty frequent visitor
at the lodgings of the ' Queen of Hearts.' It is probable that shortly
after that time he was in England, for there are two miniatures in
Holland by him representing James the Second as a young lad, which
must have been painted either about 1647 or when James was on a
visit to Scandinavia during Cooper's residence in that country. It is
probable that Cooper went to Stockholm in 1646, and in 1647 his
name appears as 'Abraham Alexander Cooper, the Jew portrait
painter.' This entry gives us two fresh facts respecting the artist.
Until it was discovered we were not aware of his first name,
nor of his Jewish nationality; but it is clear that his talent
counteracted any disadvantage of his Semitic origin. By the 5th of
July he had become portrait painter to Queen Christina, and the
orders to the Treasury appear in the archives, signed by the two
treasurers of the kingdom of Sweden, ordering payment of his
year's salary of 200 riksdalers. The payment appears to have been
made on the 10th of the same month, and the receipt in German
is still preserved; but it is interesting to notice that Cooper signs
it ' Alexander Cooper,' having, it is clear, dropped his first name.
There was another portrait painter employed by Queen Christina
at the same time, known as Dawid Beck, and in an entry dated th^
15th of September, 1647, there is a note of a payment to be made to
Cooper of 200 riksdalers on his present year's salary account, and
to ' Dawid Beck ' of 150, the two men being grouped together as her
Majesty's portrait painters. There are other entries in succeeding
account-books of similar payments, most of them being made 'on
account,' and it is clear from them that the artist's allowance increased
year by year, but that it was inconvenient to pay him his full stipend
at one time. In 1650 he appears to have had an extra sum given to
him as a signal mark of the favour of the Queen, the record being as
follows : ' October 16. According to the letter of Her Royal Majesty
our gracious Queen, dated the 15th of this month, orders are given
Secretary Samuel Nilson to pay portrait painter Beck 300 riks
dal^s silver, which her Royal Majesty has graciously appointed
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670 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Oct.
him for gala dress at her happy coronation. Mutatis Mutandis,
for Portrait Painter Cuper.*
From the date of this special payment information as to Cooper^s
connection with the Court has to be obtained from another set of
archives. His stipend in future was not paid throu^ the Treasury
as it had been hitherto, but through the Court cash accounts, and
this would seem to imply a somewhat closer connection between the
portrait painter and the Queen. He received 1,200 dalers for his
stipend in 1651, his companion Bock (or Beck) having 900; and
about that time he appears to have painted a portrait of the Queen,
which was presented to ' Adjutant-Greneral Niclaes Desmel, of General
Eonigsmark's army,' mounted in a gold chain and locket. It appears
likely that the artist painted several portraits of Queen Christina.
Two certainly were painted for one of the royal princes, and it seems
possible that the person who commissioned them was the nephew of
Queen Christina, who shortly afterwards became King in her place.
Amongst a bundle of papers marked with the date 1652 are two
accounts sent in by Alexander Cooper to Grypsholm, and filed amongst
the accounts of the royal household. They may be roughly translated
as f dlows :
What I have done for your Royal Highness, my gracious Prince and Lord.
For five paintings in miniature, at 40 riksdalers 200
For crystal glasses to them 28
For the case for the bracelet 5
For the other bracelet, diamond and gold 70
For wages to Mon. Duwall for work done by him 10
For Mr. Munckhofen's painting in oil 40
858
Tour Royal Highness's obedient and faithful servant,
Alexandbb Goopbb, painter for her Majesty the Queen of Sweden.
The other is as follows :
Another for your Grace, Highness, and Duke, for miniature and oil works.
One painting for your Highness and Duke, which Monsieur Taube received
and took with him into France 40
Two pictures of Her Majesty, which your Princely Grace received . . 80
Still another of your Grace for Count Magnus which you had ... 40
Still a small one for bracelet 40
Still two more, made ready for yon 80
Still one of the Queen in oil, for your Princely Grace .... 20
800
Alexandbb Ck>oPBB.
The Count Magnus mentioned in the foregoing account is evidently
Count Magnus Gabriel de la Gardie, whose portrait Cooper painted,
and to whom he wrote a very pathetic letter importuning the Count
that he would give orders for the payment to the artist of his salary
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1905 CHBISTINA'S MINIATUBE PAINTEB 671
for 1651 and for half of 1662, which was due to him. In tMs letter,
which is copied into the archives, Cooper states that he was, * through
the good will of God, ill and confined to his bed, and in the greatest
need of the money.'
Just before Queen Christina abdicated, Cooper was set to work
to paint a portrait of the new Eong, Charles the Tenth, and there
are many references in the minutes of the Treasury Board, to which
volumes we have now to go for the quoted references to the artist's
career, respecting presents of gold chains, medals, and portraits that
* ought to be given ' on the occasion of the ceremonial to the various
ambassadors. He appears to have prepared at least three portraits
of Charles the Tenth, two of which were set in diamond ^tuis, and
one of them, we are told, was given to the French Ambassador in
1654. After King Charles had been formally placed upon the throne
Cooper received further commissions, having evidently entered the
service of the new monarch. There is an original order, bearing the
signature and also the seal of the King, preserved in the Treasury books,
ordering Cooper to make three portraits of his Majesty, and dated the
3rd of July, 1655. All three appear to have been set in diamond etuis,
and were given away as presents in the following January — one to the
Swedish Ambassador to Russia, Gustaf Bielke, another to Major-
Qeneral Fleetwood, ' who went to England,' and the third to the Danish
Ambassador, Major-General \^^elm Drakenhelm. There are, so far
as can at present be found, no further references to portraits of Charles
the Tenth by Cooper in the Swedish archives, but there are a series
^ of applications for arrears of stipend due to him after Queen Chris-
tina's departure, for portraits of the Queen and for other work. A
receipt entirely in the handwriting of the artist is fastened on to one
of the pages of the book of accounts, and is, so far as we are aware,
the only scrap of paper in existence bearing the artist's own signa-
ture. It is as follows :
fit diUht^ 4^6i,'MuH
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672 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Oct.
During all this time Cooper was resident in Stockholm, and in
1652 tiieie is a reference in the tax-books of the city to his address.
He is spoken of as 'Mons. Caper,' who lived 'in the house of the
surgeon in the inner quarter of the city,' but he was declared as being
' free from all taxes,' and it is therefore possible that, as a Court
official, he was exempt from such charges, or in receipt of a special
favour from his Sovereign granting him this privilege. In 1656
he left Sweden for Denmark, and entered for a time the service
of King Christian the Fourth, painting the portraits of his four
children, now preserved in the royal collection, and executing other
commissions for the King ; but in 1657 he was back again in Stock-
holm, and there he appears to have resided during the remaining
three years of his life. He died in 1660, in the early part of the year,
somewhere before March, although the record of his decease does
not give the day nor the month of his death. It declares in pathetic
language that he died ' at his rooms in the inner quarter of the city,
alone, while at work, and with his brush in his hand.' It would
therefore appear as though he was overtaken by some sadden illness
while in pursuit of his professional work.
This is not the place in which to enter into any criticism of his
painting, nor is it needful that these pages should contain any Ust
of his works. It may, however, be stated that in many respects his
miniatures resemble those of his far greater brother, Samuel Cooper,
but they are stiffer and more formal in composition, and harder and
rougher in technique, than are the works of Samuel, while the colour
scheme is always somewhat weaker than that adopted by the greater
brother. For many years the works of the two brothers have been
confused, but when once the striking differences between them are
realised it is impossible for a connoisseur to be deceived. Very few
miniatures by Alexander Cooper are known, and those that exist are
for the most part in Holland or in Sweden. There are beautiful
signed works belonging to the Queen of Holland, and two in the
Rijks Museum at Amsterdam. There is a portrait of Gustavus
Adolphus, in the possession of the King of Sweden, which must have
been painted before 1632, as the King died in that year, and which
was therefore done before we have any trace of Cooper being in
Sweden. It is a signed portrait, and unmistakable in its character-
istics. Another portrait of the same monarch is at Gothenburg,
having been presented to the museum by the descendants of a general
to whose ancestors it was given by the King himself, and with it in
the same museum is the portrait of Count Magnus, to whom Cooper
addressed the letter that has been referred to. Two works by the
artist are in the Whitcombe Green collection; there is one in the
royal collection at Windsor, two or three are at Montagu House,
two belong to Earl Beauchamp, and there is one at Welbeck Abbey.
There are several of his portraits in Finland, and there is a series
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1905 CHBISTINA'S MINIATUBE PAINTEB 678
of pencQ drawings attributed to him in a private collection in London,
but beyond these works very few can be definitely attributed to this
little-known artist. It is curious that not one of the portraits that he
painted either of Queen Christina or of Charles the Tenth is known, and,
so far as we know, they do not exist in either of the important private
coUeotions in Sweden, most of which have come under our inspection.
It is possible that they were most of them given away to ambassadors,
and in the hands of their descendants they probably still remain,
although it is very likely that the name of the artist responsible for
these portraits is not attached to them. None of the portraits of
Queen Christina preserved in England can be attributed to Alexander
Gooper, so far as we can at this moment state. It would be interesting
to surmise the reasons that attracted him to the Court of Sweden,
and it is possible that the portrait he painted of Gustavus Adolphus
may have come under the notice of Queen Christina, and have led to
his receiving an invitation to work for her.
We know so little of the careers of the miniature painters of the
seventeenth century that, when fresh information comes to light, it
seems desbable that attention should be directed to it. Close in-
vestigation may perhaps some day reveal some similar scraps of
knowledge regarding the far greater brother, Samuel Cooper, so
frequently mentioned by Pepys in his Diary ^ and to whose hand we
owe the grandest examples of miniature painting that have ever
been executed.
May a word or two be added in this connection, expressive of a
great regret that in England there is no national collection of minia-
tures, no proper representation of this most interesting art ? The
half-dozen examples at the National Gallery serve but to reveal the
poverty of the great collection in this respect, and, although there ia
a collection at the Victoria and Albert Museum, it can in no sense
be considered as a representative one, nor does it include any of the
finest works of the greatest English masters. The collection at Hert-
ford House is fairly representative of French miniatmre painting, and ia
supplemented by the fine French miniatures and enamels in the Jones
Collection at South Kensington. There are, it is true, a few English
miniatures at Hertford House, one or two of quite excellent quality,
and there are half a dozen at the National Portrait Gallery, but there
is no national collection that will set forth the merits of this noble
art. The hope may perhaps be expressed that some day one of the
great art collectors will leave his miniatures to the nation, and so
give a nucleus around which other treasures can be gathered.
Gbobob C. Williamson.
Vol. LVni— No. 844 Y Y
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674 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Oct
HOW POOR-LAW GUARDIANS SPEND
THEIR MONEY IN SCOTLAND
A FEW notes and figures concerning the management of a Poor-honse
in Scotland may afiford a useful contrast to the description of
Poor-law administration which appeared in the last nmnber of
this Review.
The Poor-house in question is the joint property of sixteen rural
parishes ; there are no manufacturing towns in the district, which
is a purely agricultural one, with some fishing villages on the coast.
It is managed by a representative committee and provides shelter
and comfort for the inmates in a manner which is satis&ctory to
them and economical for the public purse.
The original cost of the building has been entirely paid off, and
the combining parishes have for some time been receiving an annual
bonus of \l. per share on each original share held by them — 1652.
was returned last year.
The accommodation of the house is not limited to the paupers
of the sixteen combined parishes. Other parishes may take advan-
tage of it to rent beds or send boarders ; but they are charged more
than the average cost of maintaining a pauper, so that the cost to the
combined parishes is considerably reduced. Thus whilst the average
cost of the ordinary paupers last year was 4«. 1(2. each per week, the
combined parishes were able to keep their ordinary paupers at a
weekly cost of 3s. 6(2. each, and the cost of a lunatic pauper to the
combined parishes was only 68. 7(2. per week against the average of
7s. 1(2. weekly.
Last year thirteen parishes not in the combination made use of
the house, and their contributions amounted to 7382. 98. 2(2. The
figures for the last five years show tliat the average number of
inmates was 110. The average inclusive expenditure over the same
period was 1,7142. lis. 3(2. This gives an average expenditure for
each inmate of 152. lis. 9(2. per annum#
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1906 POOR-LAW EXPENDITUBE IN SCOTLAND 675
£ s. d.
. 892 18 0
. 61 17 4
. 888 8 10
. 246 10
1
. 826 17
9 18
9
8
. 1,871 0
8
The following summary shows the total expenditure for the year
ending May 1905 :
Maintenance
Medical attendance and medicine
Management .
Upkeep of btdldings, famiture'i
Groimd rent, taxes, Ac. /
Special expenditure on Imiatics
Special charges (91. 12«. on fonerab)
Total
For this sum 106 paupers were maintained, of whom about forty were
lunatics.
The total cost for an ordinary pauper for the past year was
61, Ida. 6(2.; for a lunatic pauper 18^. 8a. 4<2. There has been an
incnrease in the expenditure of recent years. In 1900-01 an average
of 114 inmates cost 1,5512. 08. 2d. ; each inmate therefore cost 38. ^d.
per week or 7L 178. 6d. per annum.
In 1904-05 an average of 106 inmates cost 1,8712. 08. Sd. ; this
shows a weekly expenditure of 48. Id. for each inmate, or an annual
cost of 102. 128. 4d.
This increase of over l8. per week is almost entirely due to the
action of the Local Grovemment Board, which has insisted on an
increased dietary, with the result that the inmates of the Poor-house
are undoubtedly better fed now than the average working-class
families in the town where it is situated.
Even before the new dietary was introduced it was thought that
the inmates of the house were as well fed as many of the ratepayers
who were taxed for their support. Maintenance includes the usual
items; the total amount was 1,2102. 88. This includes a sum of
1202. 168. for fire and light ; clothing and bedding cost 1312. 138. ;
firewood used in the house, 92. 108. For shoemaking, including
wages and materials, the total was 442. 9s. Id. The rest of the
account is made up of bills for articles of food.
Of the total of 1,2102. 38. there was transferred to other branches
special provisions for lunatics, board of officials, &c., a sum of
3172. 108., leaving, as in the statement in a previous paragraph,
8921. 138. The extra provisions for lunatics cost 2002.
Management includes the salaries and wages of
Governor and Matron.
Chaplain.
Secretary and Treasurer.
Auditor.
Account Checker.
Organist.
Nurse.
Cook.
laundry maid. t y 2
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676 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Oct
The incidental expenses under this head — ^printing, advertising,
stationery, books, postage and receipt stamps — were under 222.
A piece of ground is rented near the house and the paupers find
a healthy, pleasant and profitable occupation in cultivating it. Last
year the expenditure, including rent of the ground, was 66Z. 18«. 4d.,
and the income was 1232. 98. 7({., showing a surplus in fiftvour of the
house of 562. lid. M.
The inmates who are able to work are also employed in chopping
firewood. Last year imder this head the income was 3162. 128. lOd. ;
expenditure, 2642. 28. 3i. ; profit, 622. 108. 7(2.
Enough has now been said to show that a Poor-house can be
managed without squandering the money of the ratepayers. The
admirable results. which I have described are entirely due to the
excellent management of tiie committee and officials of the house.
The paupers are well looked after and treated in a kindly and con-
siderate fiEushion. There is no exaggerated dread of the house
amongst the poor.
I have not dealt with the questions of vagrants and outdoor
relief, but I may say that they are treated in the practical and
sensible manner which prevails in the administration of the Poor-
house.
Alexander Baird.
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1906
THE WOOING OF THE ELECTORS
At the General Election the party in Office throws down its superb
challenge to the party in Opposition. * We appeal/ they say, ' to the
solemn judgment of the nation on the issues between us which affect
its most vital concerns/
This invoking of the final decision of the electors in the affairs of
the country, raises at once a question of poUtical morality as well as
of constitutional practice — ^the relations between a member of Parlia-
ment and his constituents. Is a member of Parliament a representa-
tive or a delegate ? Is he but an agent sent to Parliament to state
the views of his constituents, or may he exercise his own independent
opinion, even against the will of those to whom he owes his seat in the
House of Commons ? Edmund Burke dealt with this question of the
relations between the desires of the constituency and the votes of the
representative on the hustings at Bristol, during the Qeneral Election
of 1774, ia a speech that is memorable in political Uterature.
It ought [he says] to be the happiness and glory of a representative to live
in the strictest union, the closest correspondence, and the most unreserved
communication, with his constituents. Their wishes ought to have great
weight with him, their opinion high respect, their business unremitted
attention. It is his duty to sacrifice his repose, his pleasures, his satisfiEtction
to theirs ; and above all, in all cases, to prefer their interest to his own. But
[Burke goes on] his unbiased opinion, his mature judgment, his enlightened
conscience, he ought not to sacrifice to you, to any man, or to any set of men
living. These he does not derive from your pleasure ; no, nor from the law
«md the Constitution. They are a trust from Providence, for the abuse of
which he is deeply answerable. Your representative owes you not his industry
only, but his judgment, and he betrays instead of serving you if he sacrifices it
to your opinions.
Burke was elected for Bristol in 1774 for no higher reason than
that his poUtical opinions, so far as they had been publicly expressed,
were the poUtical opinions of the majority of the constituency. In
1778 he voted for two Bills, one relaxLog some of the restrictions on
Irish trade, the other removing some of the civil disabiUties of the
Boman CathoUcs. Both these votes were ydl conformity with Burke's
honest convictions. But they were directly in opposition to the
material iaterests and the religious opinions of the people of Bristol
677
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678 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Oct.
Accoidingly he fell into disfavour with his constituents, and, however
honourably his unpopularity had been incurred, it was inevitable that
he should be brought to account on the first opportunity. This was
afforded by the General Election of 1780. In a noble speech from
the hustings in defence of his action he exclaimed : ^ I did not obey
your instructions. No : I conformed to the instructions of truth
and Nature, and maintained .your interest against your opinions
with a constancy that became me.' He went on, in passages of
wonderful eloquence and rare nobility, to declare that he did not
stand before them accused of any venaUty or neglect of duty. ' No,'
he cried, ^ the charges against me are all of one kind : that I have
pushed the principles of general justice and benevolence too far,
further than a cautious poUcy would warrant, and further than the
opinions of many would go along with me. In every accident which
may happen through life — ^in pain, in sorrow, in depression, and
distress — I will call to mind this accusation and be coniforted.' But
the popular prejudice against Burke, a prejudice aroused by his
liberality and broadmindedness, was too strong to be resisted. The
great statesman and philosopher was compelled to retire early, badly
beaten, from the contest !
The electors of Bristol have been condemned for political intoler-
ance. A century and a quarter has passed since then—- one hundred
and twenty-five years of steady progress in poUtical enlightenment,
and in the growth of the sense of public duty — questions, less vital
and fundamental, arise for settlement, yet where to-day is the con-
stituency ready to elect a representative, however honest, however great
a genius, who is opposed to its political views ? There is nothing
more certain than that Burke would be expelled by Bristol in the
twentieth century as in the eighteenth, if his opinions were distasteful
to the majority of the electors.
In no constituency will the plea be accepted that the represen-
tative must be allowed to decide for the interest of the voters against
their prejudices. It is not only that in this conflict of one mind against
many the prejudices are more likely to exist in the representative
than in the constituents. There is someone wiser than Voltaire and
wiser than Napoleon, said a great man of the world, (Test taut le monde.
But our representative system is a check not on the people, but for the
people. The function of the House of Commons is to protect the
people's rights and extend their interests ; and as under our demo-
cratic system the people are absolutely free to vote as they please
and for whom they please, it is inevitable that they should constitute
themselves, in each constituency, the supreme judge as to the man
best fitted faithfully to discharge a trust that means so much to them ;
and their judgment, though often crude and vague, is also usually right.
It would be a travesty of the high sense of public moraUty and
public duty which now prevails to say that a member of Parliament
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1905 THE WOOING OF THE ELECT0B8 679
is expeoted to throw his honour and conscience to the winds, and
support measures which he abhors because they find favour with his
constituents. The representative stands not in such an attitude
of servility towards the constituency. He votes, of course, according
to his convictions. Once he is elected he may, if he pleases, entirely
change his poUtics, and cross the floor of the House of Commons
without referring back to the constituency as a delegate in a like
difficulty would be bound to do, and do immediately, to the body
or society of which he was chosen the spokesman. The constituency
has no control over him. They cannot at once deprive him of his
authority and position, as a society or other body can recall and super-
sede a delegate. But the representative who votes according to con-
victions which are out of harmony with the political principles of
the majority of his constituency must be ready heroically to pay the
penalty for this conflict of opinion and judgment — ^the penalty of
being summarily dismissed, like Burke, at the earliest opportunity.
In a word, the representative is discarded by the constituency for
the very same reason that the country discharges a Government at
the General Election — incompatibility of political temper.
Goldsmith, in his well-known lines, gently reproves Burke as one
Who, bom for the universe, narrowed his mind
And to party gave up what was meant £Dr mankind.
On the contrary, it would be truer to say that Burke was politi-
cally undone because he gave his great talents to the service of man-
kind rather than to party. Goldsmith uses the word * party ' in a
disparaging sense. His idea of party poUtics seems to have been
that it was a game unscrupulously played for the stakes of more power
and influence, greater wealth and station ; and there are, even to-day,
many who hold the same opinion. Undoubtedly the inspiring force
of party is a sincere desire to improve and benefit mankind. Of course
there are politicians, with little principles and few scruples, who become
party men for low and selfish objects. But all the party movements —
Conservative, Liberal, Radical, Nationalist, Free Trade, Protection —
are each an honest effort, however mistakenly, to effect the greatest
good of the greatest number. As to the ultimate object, all parties
are agreed. It is the secondary matter of the methods by which
this common end had best be attained that creates the fundamental
differences between parties, and excites mutual antagonisms.
' * Party,' says Burke, * is a body of men imited for promoting by
their joint endeavour the national interest upon some particular
principle upon which they are all agreed.' But Burke himself was
a most indifferent party man. He had that stem independence
of judgment which, as it refuses to yield even in details, is a prolific
cause of sectional differences, and is fatal to the imity of purpose
that is essential to a powerful and efficient party organisation. The
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680 THE NINETEENTH OENTUBY Oct.
theory advanoed by Burke that a member of Parliament onght to
be retomed onf ett^ied by political pledges, as it is his boonden duty
to exercise his free and independent judgment, irrespectiye of the
constituency's opinions and desires, on the public questions that
arise for decision, is an exalted counsel of perfection that perhaps
would make a demand too stem and unbending for human nature
under any form of constitution, however Utopian or perfect. In a
coimtry governed like ours by the party sjrstem it is impossible of
acceptance.
The coimtry being divided politically into two chief groups of
thought. Liberal and Conservative, the machinery for tiie promo-
tion of political principles and party interests by party organisa-
tion is mainly supplied by the great rival caucuses: the National
Conservative Union, and tiie National Liberal Federation, aided by
subsidiary bodies for the promotion of particular interests, such
as the Cobden Club and the Tariff Reform League. The systems
of these organisations are practically similar. There is a branch,
as a rule, in each constituency. The branches elect the council
in the borough or the county. These councils send delegates to the
central executive in London, which exercises supreme power. Each
body has its permanent political agent in every constituency. Each
body also has gentlemen continually ^ on the road,' political bagmen,
as it were, bringing round to the constituencies the newest and most
attractive samples of Liberal or Conservative principles.
The caucus, on its importation about a quarter of a century ago
from the United States, was condemned as a most mischievous element
in public life. It was contended that under it the free expression
of the will of the electorate would be impossible. Local initiative
and the independence of the constituencies would be crushed out
of existence by this formidable engine of political tyranny. The
electors would become a passive, unthinking mass, imder the dominion
of the central organisation, and would place not only themselves
but the destiny of the nation, the course of which depended on their
votes, in the hands perhaps of unscrupulous party leaders. In truth,
the highly developed and powerful central party organisation was an
inevitable stage of our political development. The necessary adjunct
of a constitutional system like ours, the two fundamental principles
of which are democracy and party government, is the party
organisation for the education of public opinion — that subtle power by
which politicians are controlled, directed, ruled — and for tiie purpose,
above all, of having its forces disciplined and ready to take the field
at the great battle of the Qeneral Election, on the outcome of which
depends the supremacy of the one party or the other in the House
of Commons for a term of years, and of the paramount influence
of the one set of political principles or the other in the government
of the nation. Moreover, the influence of party organisation has on
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1905 THE WOOING OF THE ELECTOBS 681
the whole been beneficent. To it is due the healthy political vitaUty
of the country. It has brought into politics, education, system,
discipline. It has aroused the democracy to an interest in pubUc afiEairs,
and by the awakening of thought and the propagation of ideas it has-
given the democracy coherent and steady poHtical convictions. Un-
organised public opinion, with its aimless ebbing and flowing, its ten-
dency to divide into numerous particular or sectional factions, with
wild and visionary schemes, would have led in time to the weakening
of the party system, and, in consequence, to the instability of the
constitution of which the party system is the foundation. But party
organisation has contributed to the strength and security of the
State by the convergence of the various streams of poUtical thought
into two main homogeneous channels, with settled principles and
with objects that are practicable and moderate. The fight for party
predominance is not, as I have already said, a sordid struggle for
the prizes of office. It is a contest for the power of putting into
operation the poUtical ideas which each party honestly deems essential
to the wellbeing of the community. It tends to a serious treatment
of political questions, and to the exercise of the franchise as a matter
of conscience and duty. By it voters, generally, have been taught
the supreme lesson that the nation is greater than the constituency ;
that local and sectional claims must rank subordinate to national
issues, that the great end is the solution of vital and urgent social
problems affecting the whole commimity.
The offices of the various party organisations are busy centres
during the Qeneral Election. In electioneering, as in military cam-
paigning, good generalship at headquarters is of paramount import-
ance. Large staffs of officials are engaged at each office all day,
and all night too, very often, under the direction of an able and astute
conmiander-in-chief , attending to the numerous messages, requesting
advice or more material aid, from the party champions in the con-
stituencies. Munitions of war, in the form of piles of posters, pam-
phlets, leaflets, squibs, and cartoons, of a general party character,
are despatched all over the country — ^the local needs of the contest
in each constituency, such as the address to the electors, the publi-
cation of facts, contradictions, and squibs of particular interest to
the constituency, being provided by the candidate. Most of this
enormous mass of general electioneering literature is distributed
gratis by the central bodies. If a charge be made, it is only what
suffices to cover the bare cost of production. Moreover, special
advocates, gUb of tongue, fully equipped with every fact that tells
in favour of the cause, are sent to constituencies which are either
weak in speakers or are hard pressed by the enemy, or where an
early victory would influence the final issue of the general campaign.
In the constituencies every wall, with its posters and cartoons, is
a profession of political faith. Election leaflets fall like snowflakes
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682 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Oct.
on every houseliold. It is a time of great local excitement and com-
motion. Earnest party adherents fill their windows with election
cards. In every street there \b an amusingly mixed display of the
cards of the rival candidates. Friendly neighbours, hitherto ign(»aat
of each other's poUtical principles, are surprised to find themselves
on opposite sides in the campaign. There are Uvely pubUc meetings
in the local halls ; at the street comers and in the bars of the public-
houses the merits of rival policies are eagerly discussed. From
house to house the candidates, each attended by his most influential
supporters, wend their different ways, introducing themselves person-
ally to the electors, canvassing for votes and influence with a per-
suasive blending of courtesy and familiarity.
Macaulay, it is interesting to note, was opposed to canvassing.
During his contest for the representaticm of Leeds in 1832, he refused
to ask a single elector personally for his vote.
The practice of begging for votes, is, as it seems to me [he said], abstird,
pernicious, and altogether at variance with the true principles of representative
government. The suf&age of an elector ought not to be asked or to be given
as a personal favour. It is as much for the interest of the constitnents to
choose well, as it can be for the intepest of a candidate to be chosen. To
request an honest man to vote according to his conscience is superfluous.
To request him to vote against his conscience is an insult. The practice of
canvassing is quite reasonable under a system in which men are sent to
Parliament to serve themselves. It is the height of absurdity under a system
in which men are sent to Parliament to serve the public.
Candidates, no doubt, would be glad to be able to dispense with
canvassing altogether. It must be a repugnant task to sensitive
natures to have to follow the traditional seductive ways of the candi-
date, to kiss the babies, or at least to pinch their cheeks or chuck
them under the chin. Indeed, there is a widespread feeling that
canvassing ought to be included in the practices which are declared
by statute to be corrupt and illegal at elections. But its effect on
the issue of the contest, especially in constituendes where the parties
are rather evenly divided, is sometimes decisive. The feeling of
many electors is that in their votes they possess a favour to bestow.
Accordingly they like to be asked for it, and the candidate who comes
to their houses, hat in hand, soUdting their support, gets it.
In days gone by even candidates with the highest sense of virtue
and honour, public and private, had to woo the electors by a lavish
expenditure of money. William \^berforoe, the champion of the
freedom of slaves, paid 9,0002. to the electors of his native town,
Hull, which first sent him to Parliament in 1780.
By long-established custom [he writes in his ' Memoirs '], the single vote of
a resident elector was rewarded by a donation of two guineas, four were paid
for a plumper, and the expenses of a freeman's journey from London avenged
lOL apiece. The letter of the law was not broken, because the money was not
paid until the last day on which election petitions could be presented.
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Loid Cochrane stood as a Whig for Honiton at a bye-election in
the spring of 1806 against Augustus Cavendish Bradshaw, who sought
'a renewal of the confidence of the constituency' on accepting a
place in the Tory Oovemment. Bradshaw had paid five guineas
a vote at the former election^ and on tUs occasion expected to get
returned unopposed at the reduced rate of two guineas, but on the
appearance of Cochrane in the field he was compelled to rcdse his
bounty to the old figure. ^ Tou need not ask me, my lord, who I vote
for,' said a burgess to Cochrane ; ^ I alwajrs vote for Mister Most.'
The gallant seaman, however, refused to bribe at all, and got well
beaten in consequence. How he turned his defeat to €kccount makes
an amusing story. After the election he sent the bellman round the
town, directing those who had voted for him to go to Us agent, Mr.
Townsend, and receive ten pounds ten. The novelty of a defeated
candidate paying double the current price for a vote — or, indeed,
paying anything at all — ^made a great sensation. He writes in his
^ Autobiography of a Seaman ' :
Even my agent assured me that he could have secured my return for less
money, for that, the popular voice being in my £ayoar, a trifling judicious
expenditure would have turned the scale. I told Mr. Townsend that such
payment would have been bribery, which would not have accorded with my
character as a reformer of abuses — a declaration which seemed highly to amuse
him. Notwithstanding the explanation that the ten guineas was paid as a
reward for having withstood the influence of bribery, the impression produced
on the electoral mind by such unlooked-for liberality was simply this— that if
I gave ten guineas for being beaten, my opponent had not paid half enough for
being elected; a conclusion which, by a similar process of reasoning, was
magnified into the conviction that each of his voters had been cheated out of
five pounds five.
In the October following there was a General Election. Cochrane
was again a candidate for Honiton, and although he had said nothing
about paying for his votes he was returned at the head of the poll.
The burgesses were convinced that on this occasion he was ' Mister
Most.' Surely it was impossible to conceive any limits to the bounty
of a successful candidate who in defeat was so generous as voluntarily
to pay ten guineas a vote! They got — ^not a penny! Cochrane
told them that bribery was against his principle. What the trustful
electors said about their representative would not bear repetition
here. But there was another dissolution a few months afterwards,
and the gallant seaman did not dare to face outraged Honiton.
It was not often, however, that the burgesses of old were out-
witted by a candidate. A story that is told of the Irish borough
of Cashel affords an illustration of how the voters usually scored.
The electors, locally known as 'Commoners,' fourteen in number,
were notoriously corrupt, and always sold their votes to the highest
bidder. It is curious to note, by the way, that it was for this
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684 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Oct.
constituency that Sir Robert Peel was first returned to Parliament in
1809. The usual price of a vote in Cashel was 202. The popular
candidate at one election, anxious to win the seat honestly and not
to spend a penny in corruption, got the parish priest to preach a sermon
at Mass on the Sunday before the polling, against the inmiorality
of trafficking in the franchise. The good man, indeed, went so far
in the course of his impressive sermon as to declare that those who
betrayed a public trust by selling their votes would go to hell. Next
day the candidate met one of the electors and asked what was the
effect of Sunday's sermon. ^Tour honour,' said he, Wotes have
risen. We alwajrs got 202. for a vote before we^ knew' it was a' sin
to sell it ; but as his reverence tells us that we will be damned
for selling our votes, we can't for the future*^ afford fto"^ take less
than 401.' The borough was ultimately disfranchised for bribery and
corruption.
Bribery did not always mean the direct purchaselof votes for
money down. Many whimsical methods were employed to influence
voters, without running any great risk from the law, which do'credit
to the ingenuity of candidates and their agents, if they'sadlyj^tamish
their reputation for morality. Cheap articles were bought frcnn
the voters at fancy prices, or a valuable commodity was sold to them
at a fraction of its value. At an election at Sudbury in 1826, a candi-
date purchased from a greengrocer two cabbages for 10{., and a plate
of gooseberries for 252. He paid the butcher, the grocer, the 1^er»
the tailor, the printer, the billsticker at equally extravagant rates.
At Great Marlow an elector got a sow and a litter of nine for a penny.
Brinsley Sheridan was so fond of peas, during his successful contest at
Stafford at the General Election of 1784, that he bought them at
21. 12«. 6(2. per quart. Candidates also developed curious hobbies
for buying birds, animals, and articles of all kinds during the house-
to-house canvass. Some were enthusiastic collectors of old almanacs ;
others were passionately fond of children's white mice. 'Name
your price,' said the candidate. ' Is a pound too much ? ' replied
the voter. * Nonsense, man,' said the candidate, 'here are two
guineas.' Rivers of beer were also set flowing in the constituencies.
The experience offthe Earl of Shaftesbury (the philanthropist and
friend of the working classes) was common. As Lord Ashley he
contested Dorset in the anti-Reform interest at the General Election
of 1831, which followed the rejection of the first Reform Bill, and
was defeated. His expenses amounted to 15,6002., of which 12,5252.
was paid to the owners of inns and public-houses for refreshments —
' free drinks ' — to the people.
In those days, when bribery was flagrant and avowed, no limit
could be placed to the possible cost of a seat in the House of Commons.
In many an election success was won or defeat sustained at the price
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1906 THE WOOING OF THE ELECTORS 685
of bankraptcy and rain. The most expensive ^'contest in the annals
of electioneering was the famous fight in 1807 for the lepiesentation
of Yorkshire. The candidates were Lord Milton, son of Ead litz-
william (Whig) ; the Hon. Henry Lascelles, son of Lord Harewood
(Tory); and \^^lliam Wilberforce (Independent). The poll was
taken in the Castle yard at York in thirteen booths, which, according
to the then existing law, were kept open from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. for fif-
teen days. \^berforce and Milton were returned. The total number
of electors polled was 23,007, and the three candidates spent between
them 300,000{., or about 132. for each vote polled. It is hardly
surprising then to read in the debate on the Reform Bill of 1832
the contention that a vote was private property, and that to take
it from a man without compensation was as much robbery as to
deprive a fundholder of his dividends or a landlord of his rents.
AU tins but emphasises the present purity of the wooing of the
electors. The various stringent Acts against bribery and corruption
carried in the latter half of the nineteenth century have not been
passed in vcdn. In 1854 bribery was made a misdemeanour. Formerly
election petitions were tried by a Committee of the House of Commons.
Often the decisions were partisan, and directly in the teeth of the
evidence. Under an Act of 1868 two judges of the High Court try
petitions, and report to the Speaker. After the General Election
of 1880 there were no fewer than ninety-five petitions impugning
returns on grounds of bribery, intimidation, or personation, and
most of them were sustained. After the (General Election of 1885
there was not a single petition. Between these electoral contests
a statute was passed — ^the Corrupt Practices Act of 1883 — ^which
has done much to make Parliamentary elections pure. It extends
bribery to payments to voters for refreshments and travelling expenses.
It fixes a TTrtfiTiTnmn scale of electioneering expenditure— varying in
amount according to the character and extent of the constituency —
and requires each candidate to make a statement of his expenses to
the returning officer within thirty-five days after the election. The
General Election of 1880 — the last election in which expenditure
within the law was practically unlimited — cost the candidates over
2,000,000?., or about 15«. for each vote polled. The General
Election of 1885, the first held under the Corrupt Practices Act of
1883, cost only 1,026,6461., or is. 5d. for each vote polled. The
tendency of the expenditure is still downwards. According to the
Blue-book issued in connection with the last General Election, that
of 1900, it appears that only 777,4291., or 214,1462. less than the
maximum scale allowed by the Act of 1883, which in this case was
991,5761., was spent by the 1,103 candidates who fought for the 670
seats of the House of Commons in that electoral campaign. As
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686 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Oct.
3,619,346 votes were polled out of 6,730,936 then on the register,
the aTerage cost per vote was 4«. 4d.
StQl the question is sometimes asked in all seriousness : Is elec-
tioneering really any purer now than it was in the days before the
first Reform Act ? It is admitted that ccMistitiiencies are no loDgbi
deliberately and frankly purchased. Bat it is said that the old
blunt barefaced forms of corruption have simply given place to newer
and subtler methods of bribery, which are just as dishonourable to
dispensers and receivers, and just as dangerous to public morals.
A candidate does not buy a constituency ; he ' nurses ' it. In o&er
words he tries to secure the good will and support of the electors
by liberal subscriptions and donaticms to various local objects. These
objects divide themselves into two classes — religious and philan-
thropic, sport and amusements. Is a new peal of bells required for
the parish church ? Does the chapel aspire to a Steele ? Is the
Toung Men's Christian Association in want of a gymnasium ? The
open-handed candidate is only waiting to be asked in order to supply
these needs. Then there are football dubs and cricket dubs to
which the candidate is expected to give financial assistance; and
give it he does, willingly and proudly, for, sajrs he, is it not the duty
of public men to encourage the national sports and pastimes ? It
would seem indeed as if the old tradition that a vote is a saleable
conmiodity, and that Parliamentary elections are held, not that the
country may be governed in accordance with the wishes of the peojde,
but that electors may get payment in one way or another for their
votes, still to some extent survives. It asserts itself, at times, in
very impudent forms. A candidate who was asked to relate some ol
his experiences during the contest says :
I have a vivid reooUeotion of one incident. I was visiting an outlying oom-
mittee'room when three men came up to me, one of whom said, * Look 'ere,
gav'nor, we're not going to vote without beer.' This observation aroused my
anger to such a pitch that I gave them this answer^' Now, we'll have a talk
about this. In the first place you'll have no beer. That's plain. But I'll tell
you what I'll do. I'll pend yon down to the polling-booth in the only carriage
that is available — it was pouring at the time-— on one condition. That condi-
tion is that you'll vote for my opponent.' The men were so astonished that
they actually walked to the polling-booth in the rain and voted, not for my
rival, but for me.
There are even audadous demands on the purse of the candidate.
They range from five shillings for getting a voter's clothes or tools
out of pawn, to a five-pound note for sending an invalid supporter
to the seaside. But these attempts to blackmail the candidate aie
indeed exceedingly rare. According as the franchise has been
broadened, according as the property qualification for a vote has
been reduced, the purer have elections become. This is due to some
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1906 THE WOOING OF THE ELECTOBS 687
extent no donbt to the risk that is run by the candidate in any attempt
to evade the law against coimpt and illegal practices, and to the
nature of the constituencies, which are now so large that the purchase
of a sufficient number of votes to decide the issue is beyond the capa-
city of any purse. But we possess in the sturdy pride and self-respect
of the working classes generally, as well as in their sense of public
duty, a guarantee that they do not petitionally extend their hands
for doles in return for their votes. Happily there is no gainsaying
the seriousness and disinterestedness with which the franchise is
now exercised. The electors go to the polling-booths animated by
a genuine and serious public spirit, which is reaUy one of the essential
qualities of a nation's greatness.
Moreover, party organisation, which, as I have shown, is the
dominant influence in our public life, makes a representative largely
independent of the whims and caprices of \na constituency. In
truth a member of Parliament in these days is not so much the repre-
sentative of a constituency as the delegate of a political party. What
is the first step that is taken by a man who has an ambition to enter
Parliament? He goes to the headquarters of his party and says
that he is ready to carry its standard in any constituency for which
it may get him accepted as the party candidate. He knows that
if he were to go independently to the constituency, and declare that
he belongs to no political party, that if returned to Parliament his
votes will be directed entirely to the good of the nation irrespective
of party considerations, he would be scoffed at and derided as a
crank. The self-chosen candidate, the man who says he is above
party, makes no appeal to the electors. It is the great party organi-
sations that bring into touch candidates in search of constituencies
and constituencies seeking candidates. ^Tou choose a member
indeed,' said Burke to the electors of Bristol ; ' but when you have
chosen him, he is not member fpr Bristol, he is a member of Parlia-
ment.' It is true to-day that the man who comes out at the head
of the poll is not member for Bristol ; he is a Liberal or a Conserva-
tive member, a Free-trader or a Tariff Reformer. He is the man
who best embodies the political opinions of the majority, and as such
he is elected to support the principles of one political party or the
other in the House of Commons. So generally is this recognised
that to give political pledges is no longer thought inconsistent with
the duty or derogatory to the character of a Parliamentary repre*
sentative. In truth, the atmosphere of a country with free Parlia-
mentary institutions is unfavourable to the return of representatives
unfettered by pledges. Occasionally, the representative may be
hard pressed by local interests and local calls, but as a rule these
are regarded as subsidiary to party interests, to the supreme aim of
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688 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Oct. 1905
each party to obtain control of the machinery of Gtovemment. The
secret of success in the wooing of the electors to-day is not the dis-
tribution of blankets or church steeples ; it is not even wit, wisdom
and eloquence in the candidate or complete independence of judg-
ment in public affairs ; it is staunch adherence to one party ticket
or the other ; it is conformity with the political opinions of the majority
of the constituency.
Michael MagDonagh.
The EdUar of The Nineteenth Centuby cannot wndertake
to retwm wn(iccepted MSS.
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THE
NINETEENTH
CENTUEY
AND AFTER
XX
XIX
No. CCCXLV— November 1905
GERMANY AND WAR SCARES IN
ENGLAND
Intra mnros peccatur et extra.
Englishmen and Qermans have never crossed swords in hostile array
on the battlefield. They have stood shoulder to shoulder, as allies,
in resisting with arms in hand the overweening ambition of Louis
the Fourteenth, the ^ Boi Soleil,' and of that modern scourge of man-
kind Napoleon the First. Sprung from the same stock, having
similar aims of culture, Qermans and Englishmen can do a great
deal, in peaceful rivalry, for the spread of general civilisation.
Nothing is, therefore, more to be deplored than the systematic
stirring up of jealousy, hatred, and downright enmity between
two kindred races which yet may, some day, have to meet a common
danger.
For the present, no doubt, the vaulting ambition of an autocratic
northern Power has fortunately overleapt itself in the Far East. But
historically it is a well-known fact that whenever foiled in the West,
Russia, after a short time, has turned towards the East ; and when
Vol. LVUI— No. 845 Z Z
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finding, for the nonce, great obstacles there, has once more made a
push towards the West and the North. This dangerous seesaw
policy, which has brought about the annexation and oppression of the
most multifarious races — among them many of a higher develop-
ment than her own — ^may yet be repeated, if the present internal
movement in Bussia does not achieve a thorough success. As it is,
the struggle between the two forces is still raging, undecided, in the
fiercest manner possible.
In spite of the most harassing financial straits, the Russian Govern-
ment has already decreed the employment of 20,000,0001. for the
rebuilding of the lost fleet. Before the war with Japan, that fleet
was numerically superior to that of (Germany. So was, and still is,
the French fleet. Now, geographically, Germany is wedged in between
France and Bussia. France, for more than four hundred years, has
never ceased to attack her eastern neighbour and to tear pieces of
territory from him, often basing her aggression upon German internal
dissensions. Of Bussia it is well known that, in spite of outward
friendliness between monarchs, her military and bureaucratic oligarchy
looks with an evil eye upon anything like real German unity and
power. Hence Moltke thought that his nation had to be prepared for
the possibility of ' a war with two fronts.' That attack, if it came,
would, of course, be made from the land side as well as from the sea—
in the Baltic and in the German Ocean.
Does it not stand to reason that a country so placed is in need of
a proper protection of its coasts ? What Englishman would, under
similar circumstances, object to such a measure for his own country !
— more especially so if the threatening Powers east and west of it
were positively in alliance with each other. Bichard Cobden, the
most decided opponent of large military armaments, once said that, if
it were necessary for the security of England, he would not hesitate to
grant a navy budget of 100,000,00W.
Germany has developed a considerable industry and oversea trade,
and has acquired a few colonies. That, too, makes for the necessity
of naval protection. It is often rightly said that England, in case of
a great war, must keep her communications at sea open, lest she should
be starved out in food. The same holds good for Germany, who has
to look to the inlet near Hamburg for free conveyance of provisions
from abroad. For all that, the German fleet is still not only at a
vast distance from the enormously superior English navy, but
even far behind that of France, whilst Bussia is intent upon
rapidly rebuilding her own. Yet, though France is the nearer
neighbour to England, and though numerous wars have been fought
between her and this country, nobody here has ever thought
of calling upon France to stop her yearly increasing navsJ
armaments.
Let it not be forgotten that the appeal for the creation of a German
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fleet has not originated with the present Emperor, but that it dates
back to more thaji sixty years ago, to the time when the great national
upheaval for the establishment of 6erman freedom and union was
nearing its revolutionary outbreak. We all then were agitating for
the creation of a navy. Our poets, Herwegh, Freiligrath, and others
of the Liberal and Democratic party, enthusiastically sang for that
cause. They even looked upon it as an additional means of freeing
the nation from the shackles of its petty princely tyrannies by widening
its political horizon.
Das Meer wird nns vom Herzen spiileu
Den letzten Boat der Tyrannei,
Sein Hanoh die Eetten weh'n entzwei
Und tinsre Wtmden ktihlen.
Das Meer, das Meer macht frei !
Eiihn, wie der Adler kommt geflogen,
Nimmt der Gedanke dort den Lanf ;
EtQin bliokt der Mann zmn Mann hinauf ,
Den Bfloken nngebogen.
Und in den Fnrohen, die Colmnb gezogen,
Qehi Deatsohlands Znknnft anf.
So Herwegh. And Freiligrath, in not less passionate words, saw
with his mind's eye, in 1844 — four years before the great German
Bevolution— the national colours (black, red, gold), wUch then were
treated as a symbol of high treason by our despotic princes, waving
from the masts of a coming Qerman fleet. £Qs prevision came true
when the nation burst its shackles. The National Parliament of
1848-49 decreed the formation of a navy; and blaok-red-gold
actually waved from the masts of the few vessels got together
amidst the storms of the popular upheaval
But what happened when a (German merchant vessel came to this
country with that national flag i The mob tore it down and trampled
it in the mire. And Lord Palmerston made a satirical inquiry &om
the English Consul at Bremen as to what ' pirate flag ' that banner
was!
When the Gretman movement for freedom and unity was drowned
in blood by reactionary monarchs, they, to their lasting disgrace,
brought the few vessels under the hammer. Only many years after-
wards, under urgent circumstances, a faint attempt of forming a
fleet was renewed in Prussia, until, under the present Emperor,
greater advance was made. It was not, and it is not done even now,
without much legislative difficulty — so Uttle does the nation think of
making the navy a means of offence ; least of all, against England,
whose poUtical liberties were often enough, in former times, held up
by German Liberal Constitutionalists as an example to be followed.
Did not Schiller already say, in his ' Invincible Fleet,' when celebrating
z z 2
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the trimnph of England, the happy possessor of tiie Magna Gharta,
over the Armada of bigoted Spanish tyranny :
Hast da nioht selbst, von stobsen Ednigen gdzwongen,
Der Beiohsgesetzd weisestes erdaoht ?
Dot gro$$e BlaU, dat deine Ednige zu Btlrgam,
Za Ftlrtlen deine Btlrger maoht ?
To-day, Qennans gifted with any statesmanlike foresight, and
otherwise out-and-out opponents of the Regi$ volunlas suprema lex
doctrine, must see that the men of 1848-49 had wisely anticipated
what is being done now — even as the (Jerman Parliament of those
days, which assumed sovereign power for itself, and which in 1849
was dispersed by force of arms, had, after all, to be reconstituted in
1871, though unfortunately with much-restricted privil^es. Aye, I
do not hesitate to assert that if a Republic were estabUshed in the
Fatherland, its naval policy would still have to remain the same.
n
Having lived in this country — which has become my second
home — ^f or the greater part of my life, I may be allowed to say that if
there were any intention on the part of the (Jerman Government to
attack England, I would be the first to denounce such a scheme. The
German people itself would rise against the mad att^npt.' Bat
there is no such intention, no such desire. Everybody in Germany
laughs at the false alarm.
At the same time, the nation will not permit itself being dictated
to from any Power abroad as to the measures it may, or may not,
take for its own security on land or at sea. Nor will it listen to the
suggestions, so often framed in more or less ofEensive language, con-
cerning the conditions of peace it had to insist on, in 1871, after a
life-and-death struggle with a Power from which Germany had sufieied
so often, and so deeply, for centuries past. Nothing contributes
more to an estrangement between (Jermans and Englishmen than the
incessant repetition of such importunate hints, coming from a countiy
which holds under its sway the sixth part of the inhabitable globe,
in all parts of the world.
It need scarcely be added that the repetition of suggestions about
the retrocession of Alsace-Lorraine has all the worse irritating effect
since the establishment of the ^cordial imderstanding ' between
England and France. It looks like a hidden threat of a future war.
For my part, I, with the vast majority of our countrymen, sinceirely
wish for friendly relations between Germany and France. And I
know that among the younger French generation, and among the best
and most thoughtful Republicans, the idea of revenge has gradually
been losing ground. That idea is cultivated now mainly by those
who wish to overturn the Bepublic in the Royalist, or Imperialist,
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and Clerical interest. True French Democrats know that any war
with Germany, whether successful, or — what is by far more likely —
unsuccessful for France, would either saddle her Commonwealth with
a military Dictator, who soon would ripen into an Imperator; or
bring about, through defeat, the overthrow of the existing free institu-
tions by way of revenge upon what would then be held to be Republican
inefficiency. Such an issue would be deplored by (German Liberals
and Democrats ; for they look upon the continuance of the neighbouring
Republic as a useful instrument for progress in their own country.
Let me add — strange as it may appear to many — that the very
fact of French military ambition having had its outlook on the Rhine
barred, since 1871, by an iron wall, has been a blessing in disguise to
the Republic itself. Its citizens have thus been induced to devote
their energies to the internal development of the Commonwealth
against the repeated contrary attempts of the Boulangers and the
Delcass^. In this way the very Treaty of 1871 has turned out a
benefit 'to the Republic. Into its reconstitution Bonapartist France
had only been beaten by defeats on the battlefield; and its final
establishment was decreed in the National Assembly by a majority of
but one I
For those in this country who often purposely, or unwittingly,
make bad blood in Germany by trying to revive the out-dying spirit
of 'revenge' and 'revindication' in France with their talk about
Alsace and Metz — of old, parts of the German Empire — ^it may not be
amiss to bring to recollection an important historical fact. It is,
that France imder Royal, Republican, and Imperial Governments
had for more than four himdred years made aggressive wars upon
Grermany, and exerted herself to loosen, or to dissolve, the bonds of
the national unity of that neighbouring country. All means to that
end seemed good enough. Whilst remaining herself attached to the
Church of the Roman Arch-priest, and having her nocturnal St.
Bartholomew massacres and ' dragonnades ' at home. Royalist France
egged on Protestants against Catholics beyond her frontier for the
purpose of mutual destruction. In the same way, Catholic France
encouraged the so-called ' infidel ' Turks to wars against the German
Empire, so that she herself might have things all the more easy in her
conquering designs towards the Rhine.
When revolutionary France arose in the name of the noble principles
of Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity, one of the early declarations of
her Assembly was to this efEect, that ' each State within the (German
Empire was a separate national body ' (' un Corps de Nation sipare '),
and that, consequently, no assent of that Empire was required for
annexing such a separate body to another country — namely, to
France. In accordance with that doctrine, the territorial ' enclaves '
in Alsace, which still belonged to Germany even after the annexations
accomplished by fraud and force under Louis the Fourteenth, were by
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a simple stroke of the pen deolared to be Fiench. It was the moderate
Girondists who carried that astounding measure. The Jacobins,
wishing to deal before all with internal affairs, at first resisted it.
When the violent act of seizure had been completed, France declared
war against a single German State; craftily trying, in this way, to keep
the remainder of the German nation from common defence.
The establishment of a ' Rhenish BepubUc ' was at first all^^ed by
France to be her sole aim. No sooner, however, had she thus got a
footing on the Lower Rhine than that RepabUc was annexed by her.
The Rhine had for centuries been asserted by her writers to be the
' natural frontier,' though by race and by speech, as well as by old
historical connection, Alsace had belonged to the (German nation, and
the Vosges mountains formed the real natural frontier ; a boundary
being always better constituted by dividing mountain ranges than by
water, which is an easy means of communication.
Under Louis the Fourteenth the so-called ^ j)r6 ca/rH^ the square
formation of France, was said to be her true and legitimate object
The Alps, the Pyrenees, the Atlantic, and the Rhine were to be her
boundaries. But when the arms of Louis the Fourteenth had become
victorious, he pushed his frontier even beyond the Rhine ; and then
the new theory was proclaimed that ' the plain of the right bank of
the Rhine was strategically necessary for France.'
Under Napoleon the First, the territory of the French Empire was
extended not only to the Rhine from its upper to its lower course,
but as far as Liibeck, on the Baltic. At the same time he established
vassal States of his Empire, like the Kingdom of Westphalia, and a
Grand-duchy composed of Frankfurt and neighbouring German
territories. To cap the whole, he formed the 'Rhenish League,'
which he gradually extended to Mecklenburg, on the Baltic, and to
Saxony, on the Russian frontier.
Napoleon being overthrown, there was a good chance for Grermany
recovering the possession of Alsace with its kindred population and
its strategical importance for future defence, in case of a renewed
French aggression. It was Russian and English diplomacy which
prevented that restitution. The Duke of Wellington was a chief agent
in the opposition to German claims.
Can we wonder, then, that the French hankering after the whole
Rhine frontier should have been expressed during the whole time of
the Bourbon Restoration, as well as under Louis Philippe % There
were secret negotiations between the Tuileries and the Czar, at the .
time of Charles the Tenth, for the object of gaining the Rhine frontier
for France, and — ^be it well marked — Constantinople for Russia.^
The Paris Revolution of July, 1830, stopped that intrigue. Yet, under
the ' Citizen King,' Bonapartists, as well as moderate Republicans of
the school of the ' National ' and of the Democratic party of Barbes,
' See Louis Blanc's History of Ten Years.
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1906 OEBMANY AND ENGLISH WAB SGABES 695
never oeased clamouring for the Rhine frontier. Often members of
all these incongruous parties were found combined in the same con-
spiracies against Louis Philippe, because he dared not venture upon a
war for that conquering design.
In 1840, when M. Thiers, the Orleanist statesman, was at the
head of affairs, there was suddenly an imminent danger of such a
war. A Syrian question, in far-off Asia Minor, was to offer the pre-
text for making a hostile movement upon the Rhine. In presence
of the explosive force of public opinion in (Jermany — as signified by
Nikolaus Becker's well-known Rhine Song — ^that French movement
collapsed. But it was destined, sooner or later, to come up again.
So it did immediately after the advent of Louis Bonaparte to power —
even as early as 1849.
In that year M. de Tocqueville, that academic political philosopher,
whose real character seems to be little known, actually accused Ger-
man Democrats of ^ opposing that tendency of the French people to
extend itself to the Rhine ' {ceUle tendance du 'pewpU frangais a 8*etendre
vers le Bhin). On that ground he literally defended the arrest and
imprisonment, contrary to the law of nations, of the diplomatic
envoy of a German democratic Government, which the writer of
this present article happened to be in June 1849. In a posthumous
work of Tocqueville's, Personal Reminiscences — written for his friends
and published only a few years ago, against his original wish — it
came out, moreover, that he, the alleged Republican, had secretly
been in constant relations with the RoyaUsts and the Ultramontanes,
and had even been in favour of a re-election of Louis Bonaparte
after his first term of presidential office.
I forgo entering into what happened previously to the declara-
tion of war by France in 1870, though I could say much on that, too,
from personal experience. Even among distinguished exiled French-
men, intimate friends of mine, whose Republican cause I defended in
public, I had privately often cause to reprove their aggressive in-
clinations. Be it enough to say that, after the war of 1870-71, a
man like the apparently mild Academician and once Foreign Minister
of the Republic, Barth61emy Saint-Hilaire, avowed to me, in a pro-
longed correspondence, that he, too, claimed the Alps, the Pyrenees,
the Atlantic, and the Rhine as the correct frontiers of France. In
vain did I point out to him that this meant the incorporation of the
greater part of Switzerland, all the German lands on the left bank of
the Rhine, all Belgium, and a slice of Holland.
Victor Hugo, also, had after the German civil war of 1866 —
which ended in the ejection of our Austrian provinces — already
claimed a ' territorial indemnification ' for France on account of the
^ aggrandisement of Prussia.' At the outbreak of the war of 1870 —
which, again, in accordance with an old would-be subtle policy was
declared by Napoleon the Third, not against Germany, but against
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the King of Prussia — a son of Victor Hugo wrote in lus paper that
the Prussians will be sent back across the Rhine ' aveo un coup de
pied dam le denriire.^ Years after the * Terrible Year' the poet
himself still asserted that, * before there can be a Golden Age of ever-
lasting peace, there must be a last war which will bring Mainz, Trier,
Koblenz, Eoln, and Aachen into French possession.'
I would not have gone into these significant facts were it not
that there are writers in this country who never cease busying them-
selves, even under the garb of friendship, with preaching the retro-
cession of Metz, or who write up anonymously the exploded doctrine
of the ' natural frontier ' of the Rhine. The effect upon the relations
between (Germany and England is a deplorable one.
in
In the face of the historical survey I have rapidly given above,
it will easily be understood what a feeling was created in Germany
in 1870 by the unfriendly, nay, in some instances, openly hostile
attitude of a considerable number of men in England, both among
the Conservative and among a section of the Radical party, which
latter followed a Positivist leader of the school of Auguste Oomte.
It was a sad sight, in those days, when at a meeting held at night
on Trafalgar Square the demand was formulated for sending out
40,000 English troops in aid of France. Amidst the lurid light of
torches the seething mass then rushed into the very enclosure and
into the arched passages of the Parliament Houses, where this demand
was repeated with wild outcries. I was personally present in both
cases, and nearly came into dangerous bodily conflict with some
ruffianly fellows who recognised me as a German. With a degree of
deep sadness I thought of the inconceivable folly of men who ^ged
the crowd on to a policy which, if adopted, would have sealed the
fate of those 40,000 English troops in a trice.
Need I say what an impression such occurrences made in (jer-
many, whose Press is always fully informed on foreign affairs ?
When Alsace and a small part of Lorraine were reunited to Get-
many — which, for the future possibility of a renewed attack on the
part of France, would mean the saving of perhaps 100,000 troops to
the German army — ^many voices in England were raised against that
provision of the Treaty of Frankfurt. Then Germans all the more
bitterly remembered what had happened after the overthrow of
Napoleon the First, through the influence of the Duke of Wellington,
to whose aid Bliicher had come on the field of Waterloo.
They remembered, too, the scene in the House of Commons during
the ScUeswig-Holstein war of 1863-64, when the news of an alleged
Danish victory at sea evoked a stormy outbreak of jubilation. Yet
the legislatures of Schleswig and Holstein had, for many years before
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1906 OEBMANY AND ENGLISH WAB 8CABE8 697
1848, often protested against the harshness of foreign dominion. In
1848 the (Jennan population of those Duchies raised an army of its
own for the purpose of recovering its ancient oonstitutional rights,
and its representatives had sat in the National German Assembly at
Frankfort in 1848-49. It was by the treachery of King Frederick
William the Fourth of Prussia and other unworthy German princes that
Schleswig-Holstein was once more surrendered to Denmark.
Again, in the 'sixties, the Diets of those Duchies resumed their
protests against the oppressive foreign ruld. Two chief leaders of the
Schleswig Parliament, Hansen and Thomsen-Oldensworth, wishing to
lay their grievances before the English Government, but fearing to
do so under their own names, lest they should be arrested under a
charge of high treason, sent memoranda to that effect, in secret, to
London, where I had to transmit them to Lord John Russell, the
then Foreign Secretary, and to vouch for their genuineness. Upon
this Russell addressed remonstrances to the Government at
Copenhagen, warning it of coming danger if it did not alter its
ways.
But when, in 1863, the storm broke loose, and the people of the
Duchies, supported by the whole German nation, demanded their
rights both on national and even dynastic grounds, the English
Cabinet actually approached Louis Napoleon for the purpose of an
attack upon Germany. It was Mr. Gladstone who, having been in
favour of that plan, himself revealed this fact years afterwards in one
of his essays. The French Emperor, however, nettled by a previous
refusal of the English Government to make common cause with him
during the Polish insurrection of 1863, declined the proposal of fighting
in the interest of Denmark in common with England. This, I am
sure, saved this country from another terrible risk ; for at that time
all (Germany, including Austria, which then was still an integral
part of it, was so enthusiastic for the deliverance of Schleswig-Hol-
stein that, if our princes had hung back, a revolution would have
brought them down on their knees, as in 1848. The millions of soldiers
whom Prussia, Austria, and the remainder of the German States had
at their command would, beyond doubt, have disposed even of a
combined French and English attack.
The efficiency shown in 1870 by the German army had one excel-
lent result as regards England. It was said of that army — ^with the
usual exaggeration of a smart epigram — that *the schoolmaster had
won its battles.' This saying was caught up here, and led to a better
system of popular education. The awful neglect which had pre-
vailed until then may be seen from the now almost incredible statistics
of previous years, as regards the schooling of those toiling masses
which constitute the vast majority and the backbone of a nation.
Suddenly Germany was, in this respect, pointed to as a model. That
turned out, so far, to the advantage of England. In Germany, where
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the desiie to learn from England whatever there is good there has
always been a zealous one, the reform of the English popular instruc-
tion was observed with much hearty interest. In such matters the
Teutonic temperament may truly be said to partake decidedly of the
cosmopolitan, really humanitarian, character without any admixture
of considerations of self-interest. Anyone acquainted with the tone
of the Glerman Press, or of (Jerman specialists in the various branches
of knowledge, and their periodical organs or works, will readily con-
firm this indubitable fact.
Again, however, it was to be regretted that though the efficiency
of the well-educated (German army had been the indirect, or rather
the direct, means of leading to a reform of the English school system
— ^which practically had, until 1870, been no system at all — ^there
followed very soon a series of alarmist outcries against an alleged
(Jerman invasion danger. Pamphlets and articles appeared in the
BaiUe of Dorking style. I made the acquaintance, years after-
wards, of the author of that pamphlet, a well-known English general
of considerable merit, but of somewhat eccentric ways. I have no
doubt that he meant to urge his countrymen to a reform of their
army system, which again may be described as very unsystematic
and unfit for a great modem war with better prepared nations. Having
myself often expressed a similar opinion for many years past, and
holding, on principle, that it is every able-bodied man's duty to
defend his country, I can easily understand the object of the writer
of the Battle of Dorking.
But the means he employed were questionable, indeed, in the
highest degree. He gave the watchword and the signal for a disj^y
of enmity against Germany, the echo of which has reverberated ever
since. In Glermany, it is true, these alarms were for many years
simply treated as amusing signs of an incomprehensible nervousness.
England has, imtil recently, been at issue with France on a good
many questions which, as in the case of Egypt and Fashoda, might,
under certain circumstances, easily have resulted in a hostile en-
counter. Even now, I should say, those err who believe that feelings
of the old kind are extinct beyond the Channel. With Russia, who
has pushed her frontier and her troops up to the very frontier of
A^hanistan, from which she even tore off a considerable bit of terri-
tory, in spite of the alliance of the Ameer Abdul Rahman with Eng-
land, a danger of a future conflict remains a permanent one. With
the United States of America the Government of this country had
been, but a few years ago, on the verge of war on account of a frontier
question in South America.
But where are the causes which would inspire Qermans with a
wish to invade England ? On the other hand, what legitimate reasons
could Englishmen have for an attack upon Germany ? Is it because
she takes proper defensive measures for her coasts on the Baltic and
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1906 GERMANY AND ENGLISH WAB SCARES 699
f
the (German Ocean, and for the protection of her mercantile fleet ?
Or because she develops her industry and trade for her teeming
millions of inhabitants ? If so, would that not be also a cause of
war between England and the United States of America, with their
rapidly swelling number of people, their vast increase of exports,
and their new claim, under President Roosevelt, of having a strong
hand in world poUtics ?
But if such considerations were to prevail, into what barbarism
of national hatred and hostility would all civilised nations be sunk
once more !
IV
I have discussed this matter of invasion scares with not a few
English friends and others, and have usually found the only excuse
for their expressed alarms in the extraordinary want of knowledge
as to simple facts and statistics. They generally repeated what they
had read in the writings of those mysterious political Mahatmas
who, under all kinds of fictitious names, sow enmity among English-
men against (Germany. Sometimes, perhaps, one and the same
anonymous prophet clothes himself in different masking raiment.
Then the poor reader says sorrowfully to his equally alarmed brother :
* Look here ! There must be a great deal in this invasion peril ; i or
do you not see how one patriotic wamer after the other turns up
with exactly the same views ? '
No doubt they are the same views ; but perhaps, now and then,
of the self -same man, only he has several aliases.
Among these professedly patriotic monitors the careful reader
could sometimes detect one who strangely makes light of Russian
designs in the Near and the Far East — ^nay, who has actually served
the cause of Russian advance in the direction of Constantinople, of
Afghanistan, of the Persian Gulf, and India. With a casuistry learnt
in, or worthy of, the most Jesuitical school of theology, such a non-
descript writer seeks to hypnotise Englishmen into a belief of a Ger-
man invasion danger, so as to give, in the meantime, free leave of
action to a real enemy of this country elsewhere.
A German proverb says : * Wie man in den Wald schreit, so hallt
es wieder heraus.' These never-ceasing excitements against Germany
as *the enemy' bring forth the bitter fruit of odious productions
on the other side. Among these must be reckoned a recent novel,
Der WeUkrieg, by August Niemann, which has appeared in an English
translation as The Coming Conquest of England.
To say it at once, however, this novel has been taken in (Germany
itself as little seriously as possible. No person in his right mind
dreams there of an invasion of this country. The (German Press has
treated the fanciful romance in question as a work to which not the
slightest political significance is to be attached. A great many of
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700 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Nov.
its elaborate details aie indeed simply exhilarating in their patent
impossibility.
In the party politics of his country the author confesses himself
an ultra-Bismarckian. ' Our (German self -consciousness/ he writes, ' is
not older than Bismarck.' For him the history of the (German Empire
of yore does not seem to exist. He has never heard of the patriotic
sentiments expressed by our Minnesingers, or by such a master-
singer as Hans Sachs. He does not know anything of men like those
who fought in the war of liberation against Napoleon the First for
the restoration of a whole, united, and free Germany ; of men who
suffered martjnrdom for that cause afterwards in prison and exile in
the time between 1815 and 1848; of men who bled in numerous
struggles during the storm and stress of the Qerman Revolution,
when a National Assembly sat at Frankfurt, in which there were
members of all the States of the Confederation, from the (German
Ocean and the Baltic to the frontier of Hungary and the Adriatic.
All these men had, no doubt, in the opinion of Mr. Niemann, no
patriotic feeling, no German self-consciousness. That feeling existed
alone in the man who once wished, during the popular movement in
Germany, to 'see all great towns, as hot-beds of rebellion, razed
to the ground ' ; who declared the national colours of the Fatherland
to be merely symbols of sedition ; and who in 1866 brought about the
ejection of one-third of the territory and population of Germany
from the common country, in consequence of which the Slav danger
has become a most threatening one in that Austria which for a
thousand years had been an integral part of Germany, as much as
Yorkshire is of England. Bismarck, who began as an ultra-reactionary
junker or squire-arch; who, however, was gradually driven, after
1866 — when Germany had been torn by him in what he himself after-
wards called a ' fratricidal war ' into three pieces^ — ^to enlarge the scope
of his designs and of his ambition; Bismarck, who, when he was
ousted from his post as Imperial Chancellor, tried his worst, from
feelings of angry disappointment, in interviews with foreign journalists
and in various speeches, to loosen once more whatever bonds of union
he had himself created in tiie Confederated Empire : he, forsooth,
first had alone the true sense of German SdbstgefuM !
Against such an assertion it is difficult not to write a satire. How
if an exile, who remembered having been tortured in prison and
narrowly escaped from court-martial bullets, had so acted from
personal feelings of anger ?
An extreme Bismarckian, the author of the WeUkrieg is also a
pro-Russian. In the Preface he speaks with high glee of how he
sees, ' in his mind's eye, the armies of Germany, France, and Russia
moving forward against the imiversal foe whose polypus arms encircle
the globe.' Then he begins his novel with a scene in the Imperial
Winter Palace at St. Petersburg, where the Grand Dukes, Ministers,
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1906 OEBMANY AND ENGLISH WAB 8CABE8 701
and other notabilities actually fonn the plan for the invasion of
England, in set speeches which remind one rather of the theatre than
of a political council. So he places Russia in the forefront of what he
approves as a design. Nor can there really be any doubt that, for a
long time past, Muscovite Autocracy has formed schemes for bringing
England down from the pinnacle of her greatness.
But when Mr. Niemann introduces the Russian Minister Witte as
one of those who advocate the war for the conquest of India and the
overthrow of England by means of an alliance with France and
Grermany, he makes rather a bad shot as regards the special poUtical
leanings of the cautious ex-Finance Minister and recent negotiator of
the Portsmouth Treaty. He even puts into the mouth of that cool
calculator the curious statement that * the Christian idea of mankind,
being destined to form one flock under one herdsman, has found its
first and most distinguished representative in our illustrious monarch,'
Nicholas the Second. Mr. Witte, as preacher of the universal dominion
of the Czar, is a somewhat unlikely portraiture.
In reality, The Coining Conquest of England is a love story between
a German officer, who, odd to say, has gone to India as a commercial
traveller, and an English lady, with a brute of a husband, and with
political ideas as unlikely in an Englishwoman as one could well
imagine. In that novel, the conquest of England by Russia, France,
and (Germany only takes place, so to say, incidentally ; and then the
world breathes freely again, being liberated from the incubus of what
once was British world-dominion. Yet, how the overthrow of England
was brought about by foreign armies— of this there is scarcely any
detailed indication in the bulky book. We hear of a battle between
the (German and the English fleet, and of a landing on the Scottish
coast ; also of the landing of a great French army and of some regi-
ments of the Czar near Hastings — ^a very original idea, no doubt.
But beyond a few words that these troops had appeared there is no
description whatever. It is all of the most shadowy kind.
However, the conditions of peace are : the cession of India to
Russia ; of Egypt to France, who also gets Belgium ; whilst (Germany
is content with the simple annexation of Antwerp. This, again, is
rather badly invented, seeing that the majority of the Belgians are
not French, but Flemish — ^that is, Low German ; and that the Belgians
as a whole do not want in the least to be annexed to France. Gibraltar
is to go to Spain. In Africa, Germany is to get some compensations.
The Netherlands are to form a Federal State of the German Empire.
The Boer States are to become independent once more, but under the
' suzerainty ' of Germany — ' in the same way as their relation formerly
was to England.' As to this latter point, the author evidently does
not know the text of the Treaty of 1884 and the declaration of Lord
Derby.
But enough of those wild fancies. Strangely enough, Mr. Niemann
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702 THE NINETEENTH CENTUB7 Nov.
uses repeatedly English, instead of German, words in the most sur-
prising manner. He speaks of a * camp ' instead of a Lager ; of ' Fischer
smacks,' where the German word is Schmacken ; of the ' Ckimparti-
ments ' of a ship ; of a ' luncheon ; ' of a ' Cirkassierin,' instead of a
Ticherkessin ; of a * mole/ instead of a Hafendamm ; also of the ^ Bal-
tische See/ instead of the Ostsee. How did this curious admixture
come into the German text ?
In his pro-Russianism, the writer of the WeUkrieg makes tiie
Minister of Foreign AfEairs at St. Petersburg speak of ' the troops,
accustomed to victory, of His Majesty the Czar ' — which sounds, just
now, a trifle overdone. Repeatedly he asserts that Holy Russia's
inmiense treasures in com, wood, and in all kinds of agriculture
cannot find a proper outlet, because Russia is not master of the seas,
and therefore cannot export her produce. As if there were any
hindrance to her exports! A hindrance to commercial intercourse
with other nations is rather to be found in the enormously prohibitive
tariff of Holy Russia.
On one point this otherwise fantastic novel may be taken as
correct. In a Preface, apparently written from personal experience,
the author says :
In my recollection, the Britiah Colonel rises, who told me in Calentta :—
* Three times I have been ordered to India. Twenty-five years a^, it was when
I was a Lieutenant ; at that time the Bussians were still at a distance of fifteen
hmidred miles from the Indian frontier. Then I came out here as a Captain,
ten years ago ; at that time the Bossians were only five hundred miles ofL A
year ago I arrived as Lieutenant-Colonel; now the Bnssians stand directly
before the passes which lead into India.*
Again the author makes the Russian Prince Tschadschawadse
say:
For more than a hmidred years we have oast our glance upon this rich
comitry— India. AU our eonquesU m OerUral Asia haoe India as their final
mm. Already the Emperor Paul ordered, in 1801, the Ataman of the Don
Army, Orlow, to penetrate with 22,000 Cossacks as far as the Ganges. It is true
such a campaign was then considered to be easier than it really is. The Czar
died, and his rash scheme was not carried out. Dming the Crimean War
General Eaofimann offered to conquer India with 25,000 men. Nothing, how-
ever, was done. Since then views have become different. We have fomid that
only an advance, step by step, can attain the aim. And we have not lost time.
In the west of India we have advanced to Herat, up to a distance of a hundred
kilometers ; and in the east, in the Pamir territory, we have come even nearer
to India.
These are facts of no mean importance, as I mjrself have often
pointed out, for ever so many years, in opposition to those who would
not believe in the designs of Muscovite Autocracy, and who, like
Lord Salisbury, once thought the best means of warding oS the
danger would be by ' calling upon a bookseller for a large map of
Asia.' Mr. Balfour, Lord Salisbury's nephew, has, however, declared
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1905 GEBMANY AND ENGLISH WAB 8CABE8 708
since tliat the policy of buying large maps of Asia could no longer
be considered a good means of defending India against a possible
danger.
Such reckless and irresponsible writing, of a merely novelistic,
sensational kind, as is contained in the book just described is cer-
tainly not to be regarded as typical of Qerman intentions. Its recep-
tion in the country of its origin proves that sufficiently. Its publica-
tion is to be regretted, nevertheless, even as the publications of the
BatUe of Dorking character were ; the latter even more so, because it
was an English general who first gave the impulse. Other writers who
followed thought they must improve the theme by raising against
Germany the cry : ' Delenda est Carthago.'* They manifestly forgot
that, in more than one country abroad, it was England who often has
been likened to Carthage.
Need I speak of the impression made in Germany by a speech like
that of a Lord of the Admiralty, still in office, who went so far as to
give a pretty plain hint that it might be best for England to smash
a certain fleet in the (xerman Ocean ofEhand, before a declaration of
war had even got into the newspapers ? Afterwards he had to
explain his words away. But he did it in a manner which was at
flagrant issue with his recorded speech in several journals, to the
correct report of which there were upwards of a hundred and twenty
witnesses present at the banquet in question. So it was stated, un-
contradicted, in the non-party paper of Mr. Arthur Lee's own con-
stituency.
It stands to reason that such menaces from an apparently official
quarter would only have the effect of showing to Germans the necessity
of still further increasing their own navy. Thus the thoughtless
originators of an invasion scare, and of threats of attack, without a
declaration of war, by way of forestalling an alleged foe, are working
for the very thing which they would fain denounce as a European
danger.
In order to induce their countrymen to a risky policy, they contra-
dict themselves in the most extraordinary manner. At one and the
same time they paint the (German nation as perfectly inflamed with
a desire for war and full of the lust of conquest, and yet attribute to
it a degenerate army ; declaring the nation itself to be eaten up inter-
nally with wretched poverty. Others, on the contrary, teke the
great increase of industrial and commercial prosperity of (Germany
as their text, from which to preach the sermon ^Oermaniam esse
delendam^ — as a London periodical literally said years ago, before
the existence of the present German navy. Between all these dis-
cordant allegations and yet uniform tendencies of hostility to (Germany,
the most astounding ignorance, even in simple geographical matters.
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704 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Nov.
is not seldom exhibited by writeis of that kind ; foj instance, when
Prossia and one of her provinces aie mentioned as separate States.
It is as if one were to speak of England and of Sossex as separate
States.
A favourite assertion is that Qermany intends annexing Holland
and thus getting possession of a Colonial Empire. I scarcely think I
need say that my own political principles and aspirations are as ht
away as possible from the present mode of Government at Berlin.
But I have no hesitation in qualifying the assertion in question about
a danger to Holland as the very contrary of fact and truth.
The Netherlands, like Switzerland, have historically achieved
their independence, and neither of them wants being reunited with
Germany. They prefer their independence and their Republican or
Constitutional government. Both were once part of our country,
the Dutch being a branch of the population of Lower Germany, and
the vast majority of the Switzers a branch of the population of Upper
Germany. They have separated from us, and there is no desire
whatever to force them back under the present Empire, which, by-
the-by be it said, exists without that former Austrian part of (Germany
whose connection with the conmion Fatherland had lasted for a
thousand years.
The assertion that Germany means to overrun Holland and annex
it, dates from the time of the successful German war of defence against
France in 1870-71. French agents and their co-operators in England
then spread, and have continued to spread, that false alarm ever
since. The Dutch themselves, averse as they are to reincorporation
with Germany, do not believe in the baseless tale. Their Queen has
not been deterred by it from marrying a German Prince. He is one
noted for his pro-Russian activity, who for several years has worked
up this Dutch scare, combining with it frequent attempts to rouse
France to renewed active hostility against her eastern neighbour,
and to incite the Danes also, in a similar manner, for the ulterior
purpose of a final general attack upon Germany.
These insidious efforts were doomed to failure. A friendlier
feeling has fortunately arisen, of late, between the Scandinavian
nations and their kindred Teutonic stock. As to the most far-seeing
French Republicans, they have f oimd out into what a perilous course
M. Delcass6 intended to drive them. Witness that which has been
wisely said by a prominent Republican spokesman in the pages of
this Review, when explaining the suddenness of the well-merited bdl
of the former Foreign Minister of France.
Germany has preserved the peace in Europe for more than thirty-
four years — ^a peace only broken in 1876 by Russia, when Constanti-
nople was in close danger of falling into the hands of the Northern
Autocrat. To uphold peaceful relations with France has been the
constant aim of the German nation and its Government. Of that,
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1905 GEBMANY AND ENGLISH WAR 8CABES 705
even the opponents of the latter at home are quite aware. To bring
about war, in alliance with England, has been the pretty well avowed
aim of M. Delcass6's Moroccan policy. This fact was known months
ago, immediately after his fall, to those who had a trustworthy report
of what had occurred in the Cabinet Council at Paris, which ended
in the instantaneous dismissal of that Minister. M. Delcass^ himself,
in an interview afterwards, made a tolerably frank confession in the
same sense. He prided himself on his fatal design.
For my part, my hearty wish is to see two nations representing
the highest state of civilisation on the Continent henceforth only as
rivals in the arts of peace. Right glad would I be, too, if the people
of England, Germany, and America, kinsmen in blood, were to culti-
vate among themselves corresponding relations of goodwill and
friendship.
Ea£l Blind.
Vol. LVIII— No. 346 8 A
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706 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Nov.
THE
EXCESSIVE NATIONAL EXPENDITURE
It seems at first sight somewhat surprising that though our national
commerce continues to flourish, the home trade languishes, pauperism
increases, and employment diminishes.
That our commerce is increasing satisfactorily a glance at the
following figures will at once make evident :
Total ExparU
omdlm'poTta
1895 .
1900 .
1901 .
£
. 702.000,000
. 877,000,000
. 870,000,000
1902 .
1903 .
1904 .
. 878,000.000
. 903,000,000
. 922,000,000
As so much is said about the exports being the really important
item, it may be well to give them separately.
Exports of British Produce
£
1895 . . . 226,000,000
1900 . . . 291,000,000
1901 . . . 280,000,000
£
1902 . . . 283,000,000
1903 . . . 291,000,000
1904 . . . 301,000,000
an increase of no less than 75,000,0001. in ten years.
I am sometimes told that though our foreign trade may be in-
creasing it is not doing so in proportion to the population. Tlie
following figures, however, also taken from the Statistical Abstract,
show that, on the contrary, our commerce has increased somewhat
more rapidly than the population, the figures being for
£ B. d.
1894 17 11 1
1904 21 10 11
Moreover the returns for the present year are so far eminently
satisfactory.
On the other hand, that pauperism increases is, alas ! equally
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1906 EXCESSIVE NATIONAL EXPENDITURE 707
evident. The Statistical Abstract gives ^ the number of paupeis in
receipt of relief in the United Kingdom on one day in the winter and
on one day in the simmier, with the proportion per 10,000 of the
population. I give the winter figures.
No. of Paupers
1903 . . . 1,040,107
1904 . . . 1,061,314
1905 . . . 1,127,570
and the proportion per 10,000 of the population was
No. of Paupers
1895
. 1,014,691
1900
. 1,000,644
1901
990,815
1902
. 1,015,843
1895 . . 260
1900 . . 244
1901 . . 240
1902 • . 243
1903 . . 248
1904 . . 250
1905 . . 263
It will be seen that the results were improving till 1901, but for
the last four years have been growing worse. The difference is not
very great, but it is significant and unsatisfactory.
It is not so easy, though it would be possible, to bring the dimi-
nution of employment to the test of figures. This is, however, not
material, as the fact will not be denied.
The main explanation is, I think, to be found in the enormous
increase of expenditure, both national and municipal.
In the 'sixties the local expenditure of the country was about
36,000,000{. ; but in 1901-2, the latest year included in the StaOstical
Abstract^ this sum had grown to the vast total of 144,000,0002., four
times the expenditure of forty years ago, and a sum quite equal to
that of the imperial finance itself, whereas forty years ago the local
expenditure was only about half the imperial.
Perhaps it may be said that the 'sixties were rather too far to go
back. Let us, then, take the year 1891-2, ten years from the last
completed returns. At that time the amount was 76,000,0001. ; in
the last recorded year it was 144,000,0001., so that in ten years it
had risen no less than 68,000,0001.
No doubt in this period the population and rateable value have
increased, but, as the Industrial Freedom League has pointed out, while
the average rate per head of population has risen in England and
Wales in the last twenty-two years 62 per cent., the average debt
per head has risen 95 per cent., and the average rate per £ of valua-
tion 61 per cent., so that we are not only paying a higher rate but it
is on a higher assessment.
The local rates paid by railways in the United ELingdom were
2,246,000!. in 1891 and 4,493,0002. in 1893, representing an increase
of 2,247,0002., or 100 per cent. In the course of twelve years
* Statistical Abstract, p. 298.
3 A 2
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708 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Nov-
the sum total has doubled, and is advancing at the rate of a quarter of
a million each year, and yet the railway companies have absolutely
no control over the expenditure to which they contribute so largely.
This is manifestly unjust, and quite contrary to the wise principle
that representation and taxation should go together, which, when
I was young, was regarded as an axiom by the Liberal party.
These increases, of course, fro tamto diminish the amount avail-
able for dividend, so that we are hit three times — first, by the increase
of assessment ; secondly, by the increase of the rates ; and, thirdly,
by the reduced dividends received from investments.
These figures are very grave ; but they are not all. Though we
are paying so much we are not paying our way. The local authori-
ties are running head over heels into debt.
The burden of this great increase in rates is aggravated by tiie
portentous and ever-increasing weight of taxes. The following figures,
taken from the Statistical Abstract of 1905, show how rapid the increase
has been:
National Expenditure
£
1890-1 88,500,000
1894-5 94,500,000
1899-1900 133,700,000
1904-5 142,000,000
Between the two latter periods came, of course, the enormous ex-
penditure of the South African war. But this is not alL Though
no doubt the above figures are correct, they are not complete. The
matter is even worse than it appears. Of course in any exact com-
parison various allowances would have to be made, which it would
take now too long to go into completely. On the whole, moreover,
they would only make the matter really worse. For instance, in
1884 the amount allocated to the national debt was 29,650,0002. In
1904 it was only 27,000,0002. If we had applied as much to debt in
1904 as in 1884 our expenditure would have been even greater.
Indeed, we have to add, as Mr. Bowles has shown in a very
able and convincing pamphlet, the revenue intercepted and not paid
into the Exchequer, which is not included in the 154,000,0002., but
which is really expenditure, and which last year amounted to no leas
than 22,600,0002., of which 9,700,0002. was paid directly by the col-
lecting departments to the local taxation account ; while 12,300,0001.
were what are technically termed 'appropriations in aid,' and are
taken and spent by the departments in addition .to the sums voted
to them. In fact, the total State expenditure was not 154,000,0001.,
but in reality 176,953,0002., showing an addition of over 80,000,0001.
in ten years.
I am glad to see that there has been some diminution this year
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1906 EXCESSIVE NATIONAL EXPENDITURE 709
in the navy estimates, nearly balanced, however, by increases in other
departments.
Recent changes have very much weakened the House of Commons'
control over national expenditure and the opportunities of enforcing
economy. The proportion of permanent votes — i.e. those levied
under standing Acts of Parliament and not requiring to be annually
voted by the House of Commons— has greatly increased. Appro-
priations in aid have much increased. These do not require a House
of Commons vote. The amount for capital expenditure for works
is found by loans authorised under various Acts, once for aU. In
fact, so far from our annual expenditure requiring the annual sanction
of the House of Commons, as I believe is still popularly supposed, a
comparatively small part of it now does so. In these and other ways
the power of the House of Commons over expenditure and the forces
tending to economy have been fatally reduced.
The extent to which the State has itself become a manufacturer
is, I believe, another mistake which is made. Cobden, we know,
always opposed the system of Government workshops, dockyards,
and manufactories, which he maintained were uneconomical and
unwise. Unfortunately, however, the system has been extended by
successive Governments, and the expenditure in Government factories
and workshops now amounts to 14,000,000!.
Moreover, even with our enormous taxation we do not make
both ends meet. The aggregate gross liabilities of the State, which
in 1900 * were 639,000,0001., are now 796,736,000?. The main increase
is, of course, due to the South African war, but if we take last year
as compared with the year before there has been an increase, as shown
in Sir E. Hamilton's return, of 2,238,0002. — ^that is to say, our national
expenditure exceeded our national income by this amount.
Now, how has this enormous increase arisen ? The Civil Services,
including education, have increased 9,500,0002., and the collection
of revenue 8,300,0001. That the cost of the Civil Services should
increase is inevitable, but the actual growth is excessive. Sir M.
Hicks-Beach on more than one occasion called attention to, and
deplored it. The cost of collection of revenue also demands the
serious attention of the Chancellor of the Exchequer.
But the most serious item of all is undoubtedly the increase in
our miUtary and naval expenditure, which has risen from 36,600,000!.
ten years ago to no less than 86,600,000!., an increase of 50,000,000!.
I am glad to see that there is this year some reduction in the naval
estimates. There have, however, been increases in the army and Civil
Services, and as we always have supplementary expenditure it is
safer to take actual results.
The increase is so portentous that I give the figures, omitting the
years of the South African war :
' Statistical Abstract .^,\i.
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710 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Nov.
£
£
1893-4
. 33,327,000
1897-8
40,093,000
1894-5
. 35,144,000
1898-9
. 43,997,000
1895-6
88,117,000
1904-5
65.968,000
1896-7
. 40,377,000
80 that OUT naval and military expenditore, as shown in the Siatigtioal
Abitrcui — ^that is to say, even without the extra sums which, as
Mr. Bowles has shown, ought to be included — are 22,000,0001. more
than in 1898-9, and 30,000,0001. more than they were ten years ago.
The army expenditure has risen since 1898-9 by the immense sum of
9,166,000?.
And yet Lord Roberts told us in the House of Lords, and repeated
in the City, that in his judgment — and we could not have higher
authority — * the armed forces of this country were as absolutely un-
fitted and unprepared for war as they were in 1899-1900.* If, then,
we are no more prepared than we were five years ago, what has
become of our 9,166,O0W. ?
Mr. Balfour proved in his admirable speech on national defence
that we are absolutely secure against invasion ; why, then, these
immense increases f
As regards the protection of commerce at sea — not only ours, but
that of the whole world — the real remedy would be the extension of
the Declaration of Paris and the placing of private property at sea on
the same footing as property on land. This policy, has, I understand,
been now adopted by Mr. Roosevelt and the Gk>vemment of the United
States, who have proposed it as one of the subjects to be considered
at a conference of the Powers. I trust our Gk>vemment will give him
their support — at least I know that the late Lord Salisbury would have
done so— and I hope that France and Germany will also agree
One result of our enormous expenditure is that we have to a con-
siderable degree lost the elasticity and financial reserve which were
so great a strength to the country. Moreover, as we are spending
177,000,000?., paying Is. income tax, and borrowing over 2,000,0001.
in time of peace, what is the prospect in time of war ! The only way
to remedy this state of things is to reduce these crushing burdens
and lighten the springs of industry. Mr. Atkinson, the eminent
American economist, has truly said :
The burden of national taxation and of militarism in the competing eountriee
of Enrope, all of which most come out of the annual product, is so much
greater that, by comparison, the United States can make a net profit of about
5 per cent, on the entire annual product before the cost of militarism and the
heavy taxes of the European competitors have been defrayed. Such is the
burden of militarism, which must be removed before there can be any com-
petition on even terms between European manufacturers and those of the
United States in supplying other continents, and in sharing in the great
commerce of the world.
This was written some time ago, and matters are now far worse
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1906 EXCESSIVE NATIONAL EXPENDITURE 711
The difierence now probably gives manufactuieis in the United States
and our Colonies an advantage of something like 15 per cent, over those
at home. If Germany, France, and the United States had not, un-
fortunately for themselves, adopted a pohcy of so-called protection,
and deprived themselves as far as they could of the advantage of cheap
materials, it would have been almost impossible for our manufacturers
to have competed with them in neutral markets.
The Committee of the Cobflen Club are, I believe, quite correct
when in their excellent volume on The Burden of Armaments they
say:
The financial stability of the country has been seriously impaired by the
enormous increase of taxation rendered necessary by these excessive armaments :
this country has lost to a great extent the element of strength which dis-
tinguished it above all other countries in Europe — the capacity to raise vast
sums by loan. With an income tax at 12d, in the £, and with the duties on
tea, sugar, tobacco, beer, and spirits at their present level, it will be impossible,
without difficulty and widespread suffering, to increase taxation in an emer-
gency either for the direct expenses of a war or for the interest on money
borrowed for the purpose. The interest on the 160 millions borrowed for the
purpose of the late war is but a small burden in comparison with the twenty
millions added to our yearly expenditure on armaments in the last five years.
Lord Beaconsfield once spoke of our * bloated armaments.* What
words even in his rich vocabulary would he have found strong enough
to describe them now ?
We did not murmur at the taxation in time of war, but the present
expenditure and the present income tax in time of peace are altogether
excessive. Of course it is necessary to be well armed But assuredly
the present portentous expenditure is exc^ive and unnecessary. We
have no important question open with Bussia. She is not likely to
pick a quarrel, and her fleet has been seriously weakened. France
is friendly ; she knows that we are her best customers, and that no
other nation would take her clarets and her sUks. There can surely
be no question of war between us and Germany. Yet we are arming
as we have never armed before. In doing so we not only weaken our-
selves, but incur the moral responsibility — ^I might say the guilt —
of additional armaments in Europe.
It is often said that our increased expenditure has been forced
on us by that of foreign countries. Those who say so have evidently
not studied the figures.
In 1899 Mr. Goschen, then First Lord of the Admiralty, and speak-
ing on behalf of the Government, threw out an important suggestion
to other European States. He said :
We have been compelled to increase our expenditure, as other nations have
increased theirs, not taking the lead, not pressing on more than they. As they
have increased so we have increased. I have now to state, on behalf of Her
Majesty's Government, that, similarly, if the other great naval Powers should
be prepared to diminish their programme of ship-building we should be pre-
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712 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Nov.
pared on our side to meet each a procedure by modifying oars. The diffi-
ooltieB of adjustment are no doubt immense, but our desire that the Conference
should succeed in Ughtening the tremendous burdens which now weigh down
all European nations is sincere.
That was a wise and statesmanlike suggestion. Unfortonately,
however, it has not been acted on.
If other countries were increasing their armaments as we are, there
might be some justification for the course we are adopting. But this
is not so. What are the figures ? In Italy the expenditure on the
army has increased in ten years from 264,000,000 lire to 296,000,000,
and of the navy from 118,000,000 to 124,000,000, or, taking the two
together, an increase of 37,000,000 lire— 1,500,00W. In Russia the
expenditure on the army has increased from 280,000,000 roubles
to 343,000,000,* and of the navy from 66,000,000 to 100,000,000 ; taken
together, an increase of 107,000,000 roubles, or about 10,800,OOW.
In Gtormany the expenditure on the army has risen from 618,000,000
marks to 649,000,000, and on the navy from 78,600,000 to 222,000,000,
an increase of 174,000,000 marks, or about 8,700,00W. In France
the expenditure on the army has risen in ten years from 648,000,000
francs to 726,000,000, and of the navy from 274,200,000to 344,000,000,
an increase of 149,000,000 francs, or about 6,000,00W.
In our own case there has been on the army an increase of
24,800,0001., and on the navy an increase of 25,000,0001. ; or, taking the
two together, in round figures an increase of no less than 50,000,0001.,
of which, however, only 39,000,0002. is shown in the ordinary estimates.
In other words, while Italy has increased her naval and military
expenditure by 1,500,0002.; Russia, 10,800,0002.; Germany, 8,700,0001.;
and France, 6,000,0002., we have increased ours by 50,000,0002.
Thus these four great countries put together show an increase of
27,000,0002., while ours by itself is 50,000,0002., or nearly double
that of Russia, Germany, France, and Italy put together. What justi-
fication have we for this enormous increase ?
Of course toe know that we are not going to attack any foreign
country. We are sincerely anxious to maintain the peace of the
world. But let us suppose for a moment that France or Germany
had increased their armaments as we have increased ours. What
should we have said ? What an outcry there would have been ! If
one nation increases its armaments others follow suit, and so on.
I have more than once quoted Gambetta's saying to me that, if the
military mania of Europe were to continue, we should all end by being
^ beggars in front of barracks.' Little did he then think, little did I
think, that we, who claim to occupy a position in the front rank among
civilised nations, should incur the responsibility — ^I had almost said
the guilt — of setting so evil an example to the rest of the civilised
world. The position of Europe is most serious. Even without any
* This was the amoant just before the late war.
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1906 EXCESSIVE NATIONAL EXPENDITURE 718
gieat war European nations will be crushed under the weight of their
own armaments.
We do not sufiBciently realise what great interests European
nations, and indeed the whole civilised world, have in common.
Take Russia, for instance. There seems to be a feeling in Russia that
we are unfriendly. But that is a great mistake. We deprecate,
no doubt, the foreign poUcy of Russia. Her treatment of China and
her behaviour to Japan have seemed to us unjust. But we wish her
people progress and prosperity. Apart from any question of Christian
feeling it is natural that we should wish well to Russia, because our
material interests in that country are very great. The French no
doubt hold more of her national debt. But our merchants have very
large capitals invested in Russia; we hold immense amounts in
Russian railways, the petroleum fields, &c. If Russia prospers it is
good for us also : if her people suffer we lose also.
In Ai^entina, again, it is said that we have 50,000,000Z. invested,
and it is the same more or less all over the world. The expression ' foreign
countries ' is misleading. In one sense there is no foreign country.
The Governments no doubt are separate and independent, but our
interests are all interwoven. If France has a good vintage we get
better wine at a lower price, and the French are thus able to buy more
of our produce. The greate^t British interest is the peace, and I may
add the prosperity, of the world.
Our gigantic armaments injure us in three ways — ^firstly, by the
increased taxation they involve ; secondly, from their effect on the
moral character of the nation ; and, thirdly, by tempting other countries
to follow our example we impoverish them and cause them to be
less valuable customers for our products. People often speak as if the
war in the Far East was an expense to Russia and Japan only. This
is a great mistake. It has caused great losses to other countries also.
France has suffered severely, and it would be an interesting inquiry
how much it has cost us.
Moreover, the enormous increase in expenditure of recent years
affects all classes, the poor perhaps even more than the rich. It has
been a surprise to many that while our f ofeign commerce is so flourish-
ing, and has risen more in proportion than our population, still pauper-
ism is increasing, and employment apparently diminishing.
The main reason, however, is obvious enough. If 130,000,000?.
in rates and taxes is taken from the pockets of the public more than
was deemed necessary ten years ago the public have 130,000,000!.
less to spend. Legislation may transfer the spending power from the
individual to the State, or the Local Authority, but it is an incon-
trovertible truth, elementary indeed, but too often forgotten, that
for every pound more spent by pubUc authorities a pound less must
be spent by private individuals.
Can we wonder, then, than pauperism is increasing and employment
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714 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Nov.
diminiflhing ? We are paying 68,000,0001. a year more in taxes, and
about the same more in rates than we were ten years ago, so that
between the two we are paying 130,000,0002. a year more. Under
these ciroumstanoes we can hardly wonder if employment has been
less. We may for the moment hope for a redaction ; but unless some
serious effort is made not only can we not hope for any permanent
diminution of rates and of taxation, but we must be prepared for
continuous additions to our present very heavy burdens.
The Government have brought in a Bill to enable local authorities
to provide work for the unemployed. How will it operate ? Suppose
under it 500,0001. is distributed. So far as the work done is concerned,
by the hypothesis the money will be unnecessary, or nearly so, for
useful work can be carried out without the Bill.
But how will it afiect the wage-earning class ? The money will
come from the ratepayers and taxpayeis, who are already heavily
burdened. They will therefore have 500,0001. less to spend, most
of which, almost all of which, would have directly or indirectiy
gone in wages. I say indirectly, because if the ratepayer bought
furniture, or improved his house, or spent it in almost any way, the
bulk would ultimately go in wages. The Bill may do good in some
ways, but the evil will outweigh it. The Bill will not increase the
amount spent in wages, but the money will be diverted from those
who have found work for themselves to those who have not ; from
useful to useless (or nearly useless) expenditure ; and, worst of all, the
recipients will be made more dependent and less independent ; they
will be taught to rely on otheis and not on themselves. The proposals
do not go to the root of the evil. If the Government and municipali-
ties will not exercise more economy, if taxpayers and ratepa3^ers
do not insist on a reduction of expenditure, we must expect that
pauperism will continually increase and employment will continuaUy
decrease.
A Japanese statesman is reported to have said that as long as
they only sent us beautiful works of art we looked on Japan as a semi-
barbarous country ; now that they have shot thousands of Russians
we recognise them as a truly civilised nation. We claim that Europe
is Christian, but the really ruling Deity is Mais — ^the heathen God
of War. Europe is an armed camp ; we have most of the evils of war
(except bloodshed) even in times of peace. In fact we have no real
peace, it is only a truce, embittered by jealousy and suspicion.
I do not wish to exaggerate, nor to maintain that we are going
down hill. But our progress has been checked, and if we are not wise
in time worse will follow.
We sometimes hear of ' Little Englanders.' I hope we shall not
let ourselves be stung into extravagance and war by any such taunt.
There are many who have strong views as to what constitutes the
true greatness of a country. It is not wealth, but the application of it ;
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1906 EXCESSIVE NATIONAL EXPENDITURE 715
not the numbers of the people, but their character and well-being ;
not the strength, but the use made of it. We do not wish for England
the dangerous power of dictation or the seductive glamour of conquest,
but that our people may be happy and contented ; that we may do
what we can to promote the peace, progress, and prosperity of man-
kind ; and that we may deserve, even if we do not secure, the respect,
the confidence, and the goodwill of other nations.
Being once more, happily, at peace with all the world, our financial
policy should be to reduce expenditure, pay ofi debt, increase our
reserves, and lighten the taxes which now press so heavUy on the
springs of industry.
AVBBURY.
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716 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Nov.
THE CAPTURE OF PRIVATE PROPERTY
AT SEA
For a long time past there lias been much concern in this country
with regard to the position of our supplies of food and raw
material in time of naval war. An Association headed by powerful
and influential persons has long been in existence with the object of
securing some means of protection by State action against the appre-
hended dangers. The Duke of Sutherland's Association (to give it
the name by which it has been familiarly known) has succeeded in
this, at all events, that it procured the appointment of the Royal
Commission which closed its sittings only a few weeks ago. This
Commission, appointed in the spring of 1893, consisted of eighteen
members (one of whom was the Prince of Wales), with Lord Balfour
of Burleigh as Chairman.
The Commission was directed to
inquire into the conditions affecting the importation of food and raw material
into the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland in time of war, and into
the amount of the reserves of such supplies existing in the country at any given
period ; and to advise whether it is desirable to adopt any measures, in addition
to the maintenance of a strong fleet, by which such supplies can be better
secured and violent fluctuations avoided.
The Commission held fifty meetings and eicamined ninety-three
witnesses, and its report, with the relative evidence and documents,
forms a bulky Blue-book of three volimies. The inquiry extended
to the raw materials of industry as well as to food, but we limit our-
selves now to food, and take, as the Commission did, wheat as the
typical item to be considered.
The finding of the Commission on this head may be shortly sum-
marised. As illustrating the preponderance of wheat, it is stated
that the average consumption per head of the population in the five
years ending 1903 was 342 lbs. per annum, while the annual con-
sumption of meat amounted to only 120 lbs. per head. Moreover,
for the supplies of wheat and flour we are more dependent on imports
than in the case of any other food stuffs. The present annual con-
sumption of wheat is put at thirty-one million quarters, or about six
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1905 NAVAL CAPTURE OF PRIVATE GOODS 717
hundied thousand quarters per week. Seven million quarters are
produced at home, of which the amount available for food is taken to
be six million quarters.
Four-fifths of our wheat supply has to be imported and only one-
fifth is produced at home. The quantity of wheat grown in the
United Kingdom has fallen more than one-half in the last thirty years.
Imports, on the other hand, have more than proportionately increased.
They amounted to less than nine million quarters in 1870 and to
nearly twenty-eight miUion quarters last year. Thirty years ago we
imported about forty per cent, of our wheat supplies, now we import
over eighty per cent. These supphes come in varying proportions
from the following countries : United States, Russia, Roumania,
Argentina, British India, Canada, and Australia. In 1901 nearly sixteen
million quarters came from the United States ; last year less than four
and a half. In the same period the Russian supply to this country
rose from little more than half a million quarters to more than five
and a half. A similar increase took place in the case of British India
and Argentina. The Canadian supply has fluctuated between two
millions and three and a half miUions.
The Conmiission further find, as the result of a long inquiry, that
the amount of wheat stuff held in this country (all kinds of stocks
being taken into account) never falls below six and a half weeks'
supply, and this only in the month of August. Similar figures are
given in the case of other imports ; but neglecting these, we may assume
that the main question before the Conmiission was whether this
situation is satisfactory ; if not, what remedy should be devised ?
The Commission accordingly proceeded to indicate the various
measures by which, in time of naval war, the importation of supphes
to this country might be in danger. These are
(1) The seizure by the enemy of ships and cargo belonging to this
country.
(2) The possible establishment of a blockade of our coasts ; and
(3) The possibiUty that certain foodstuffs might be held by certain
nations to come under their definition of contraband.
Of these, the first is by far the most important. The all but univer-
sally accepted rule as to contraband is that provisions are to be so
regarded only when they are on their way to a port of a naval or
miUtary equipment, or to ships at sea, or for the relief of a besieged
port. As to blockades, the Commission proceed on the beUef (shared
by the Prime Minister) that a blockade of British ports is no longer
possible.
In the course of the inquiry the Conmiission entered into com-
munication with the Admiralty, in the correspondence which is
printed as an annexe to the report. The Commission asked whether,
asBuming this country to be at war with any two great naval Powers,
the Admiralty were of opinion that our supphes of wheat and flour
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718 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Nov.
would practically be the same in volume as in time of peace. The
answer of the Admiralty was ' Literally No ; practically Yes.' They
could not guarantee that no captures would be made, but tiiey
believed that there would be no material diminution in the supplies
of wheat and flour reaching the United Kingdom. In answer to other
questions, the Admiralty say that if a portion of the naval forces at
their disposal were deflected from the main operations of the war for
other purposes of whatever kind {e,g. the special protection of ships
canying foodstufis to this country), the general conduct of the war
must suffer in its entire course, and might be injuriously affected.
The Admiralty would never allow their action to be influenced by
pressure in the direction indicated, and yet remain responsible for the
conduct of the war.
Other information was supplied by the Admiralty which has not
been published in the official report, and therefore cannot be alluded
to here. On the whole the Commission came to the conclusion that
there would be wme interference with trade in time of naval war, and
9ome captures, but that there is no risk of all supplies being stopped,
and no reasonable probability of serious interference with them unless
we suffered a reverse which would cost us the command of the sea.'
They consequently do not apprehend any risk of the actual starvation
of our people into submission, but they regard with concern the
effect of war upon prices, and especially on the condition of the poor.
It is not so much the economic rise produced by the increased cost of
transport and insurance that has to be apprehended as the panic rise
due to the excitement of the moment. Much suffering would be the
result in the case of a sudden rise of this sort, continued over any
length of time. It is this consideration, and practically this alone,
which has influenced the Commission as a whole to make itself respon-
sible for the few recommendations contained in the report. They,
as a body, reject all proposed schemes whereby the Government might
become involved in the actual purchase and sale of f oodstufb ; they
condenm also the schemes for subsidising merchants or millers to carry
a permanent stock over and above their ordinary stock. They submit
that if on full consideration it were thought desirable to resort to any
plan for increasing stocks of wheat, the least objectionable would be
a scheme for providing storage room rent free. Even this they regard
as a proposal of doubtful utility, but in a very guarded paragraph
they suggest that it would be ' well worth the consideration of the
Government whether a public invitation should not be made, on the
authority of some Department of State, for the purpose of seeing what
offer would be made in response to it and on what terms, with the
object of ensuring the holding of larger stocks of grain within the
United ELingdom than is the case at the present time.' This limited
recommendation is minimised by the reflection that it may not yield
any decided result, and that the experiment would have to be tried on a
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1906 NAVAL CAPTUBE OF PRIVATE GOODS 719
very coiuddeiable scale. The one suggestion in {avoni of which the
Commission had a practically unanimous and decided opinion was the
proposal of a sjrstem of national indemnity against loss from capture
by tiieenemy. The word ' indemnity ' is used here in its proper sense.
Ilie Government is to make good to shipowners and shippers some or
all of their losses by capture in war. Such a system the Commission
believe, for reasons which need not be discussed here, would operate
both as a security to the maintenance of over-sea trade and as a
steadying influence upon prices.
Such is the general result of the report of the Commission, but it
must be observed that whilst the report is signed by all the surviving
members, no fewer than fifteen have put their names to reservations
dissenting from the report or qualifying their adhesion in material
particulars. Five members take a much more serious view of the
danger of the situation in case of war between the United Kingdom
and any great Power. They think that the rise in the price of bread
would be great and possibly immense; that the suffering among
the poor might be prolonged, and might lead to pressure which would
embarrass the Government at moments of crisis. The remedy they
suggest is a system of free storage, on lines which they have laid down.
These are the views of what might be described as the ' Alarmist wing *
of the Commission. On the other hand, six members reject even the
exiguous recommendation of the report in favour of an experiment
by the Government. They hold that such proposals are not justified
by the real exigencies of our probable situation in time of war, and they
regard them rather as suggestions for mitigating public uneasiness.
The suggestions which we have cited do not exhaust the proposals
which were laid before the Commission by members or witnesses.
One group favoured a scheme for inducing farmers to keep their grain
on the rick for a longer period than at present by a subsidy of 4^. 6(2.
per quarter, of which 1$. would be net profit to the farmer. Others
were in favour of the (Government purchasing wheat and storing it
in Government granaries. Some schemes proposed, by inducements
of various kinds, to transfer the storage from the country of pro-
duction to the United Kingdom. Others again, instead of the indem-
nity favoured by the Commission as a whole, suggested that the
Government should become under-writers and insure shipowners
and shippers against war risk at moderate premiums, or should at any
rate reimburse the shipowner or merchant for the special cost of
insuring against this risk.
Enough has been said to show that the Commission was far from
being unanimous, either as to the extent of the danger to be reasonably
apprehended or as to the proper measures to be taken to meet it. The
reconmiendation contained in the report, that the Government should
make an experimental offer in order to see what answer it would receive,
was in fact not approved by the majority of the Commission. Both
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720 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Nov.
the ' Alarmist wing ' and the opposite extreme most be taken, I think,
not to assent to this proposal, the one believing it to be inadequate
and the other believing it to be unnecessary.
In the discussion which has been proceeding in the public Press
since the publication of the report, attention appears to me to have
been concentrated on the one positive recommendation, namely, that
a system of indemnity should be tried and that an expert Commission
should be appointed to work out the details. It is evident, however,
that even on the least ' Alarmist ' theory the question is still one of
doubt. The whole Commission admits that there will be danger to
the security of our imports in time of naval war, that the price of food
must rise and may continue high for an indefinite period, that the
result may be great suffering on the part of the poor and great embar-
rassment in the conduct of the war. All the members of the Com-
mission have reported that something ought to be done, and even
if nothing more were attempted than the scheme of indemnity already
described, that alone would mean a considerable expenditure during
the war. Its great advantage over other schemes, of course, is that,
unlike them, it involves no outlay in time of peace.
It is certain that the limited reconmiendations of the official
report will not satisfy those who, in the past, have sought to keep
this question before the public mind. There is nothing in the
report itself which would be likely to tempt any Oovemment to
far-reaching experiments ; but that the Commission will succeed in
allaying the agitation of which it was the outcome is another matter.
That brings me to the question which I desire to raise in this article.
Why should our food supplies be in any danger at all in time of naval
war ? Why should there be panic and consequent rise in prices I
Why should there be any need for considering any of the numerous
and costly experiments which the Commission has had under con-
sideration ? The answer is that the danger arises almost entirely
from the perpetuation of the usages of ' International Law ' permitting
a belligerent to seize and hold the defenceless and inofEensive private
merchantman plying his beneficial trade on the high seas. The
Commission have placed this fact in the forefront of their report in the
following paragraph :
We have felt bound (they say) to deal with the rules of international law as
they now are, bat we do not ignore the possibility of changes therein which
would materially affect our conclusions on the questions submitted to us. The
President of the United States has tentatively invited the Powers to join in a
new conference for the purpose of revising the roles of international law in
time of war, and your Majesty's Government have, in general terms, accepted
the invitation. The two points with which we are mainly concerned — that is
to say, the definition of contraband and the practice of attacking and capturing
floating commerce— will, it may be assumed, come up for careful consideration
by this conference. The Oovemment of the United States suggest, as one of
the most important heads of discussion, the propriety of ' incorporating into the
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1905 NAVAL CAPTUBE OF PBIVATE GOODS 721
permanent law of civilised nations the principle of the exemption of all private
property at sea, not contraband of war, from capture or destruction by belli-
gerents.' We merely take note of these facts at this point of our report, and
proceed to discuss the questions submitted to us, on the assumption that the
rules of international law remain unchanged.
This paragraph (No. 114) was intended to lay the foundation for
a corresponding statement in the ^ conclusions ' which come at the
end of the report. No such statement, however, does in fact appear.
I trust 1 am not going beyond the limits permitted to me as a member
of the Commission in saying that paragraph 114 was inserted on a
division by a majority of one, and that the corresponding paragraph
in the conclusions was rejected by a bare majority of those present.
The substance of it, however, appears in the Blue Book in the form
of a reservation signed by Mr. John Wilson and myself, which, after
reciting the American proposal, argues that
if the proposed conference were to result in the abrogation of the existing rule
all the difficulties we have been instructed to consider would disappear, and all
proposed remedies would become unnecessary. The Commission decided not
to call evidence on the question whether it is desirable on grotmds of naval
policy to adhere to the rule, but in our opinion the evidence laid before us
tended to show that the rule no longer does, if it ever did, subserve the real
interests of this country. We desire accordingly to qualify our acceptance of
the report by the reservation that a full consideration of this most important
question should precede the adoption ef any suggested remedy. And we may
add that the severity of the existing rule had much effect in inducing us to
accept the conclusions of the report on the subject of indemnity.
I believe that I am justified also in sa3ring that the opposition to
this conclusion was based to a large extent on the belief that the
suggestion it contained was somewhat beyond the scope of our refer-
ence. I cannot quarrel with any one who entertains that view,
though it appeared to me to be strictly within the reference. The
contrary opinion, however, being held by a majority of the Commission,
it was impossible to obtain the naval evidence which would have been
necessary in order to enable us to deal effectively with the question
of principle involved. There is no limitation of reference, however,
in public discussion, and I desire on this occasion to make good my
contention that before any remedies, however meagre, are considered
we should see whether the root of the evil cannot be eradicated.
The question then is whether it is desirable under all the circum*
stances to maintain the Law of Capture, having regard to its general
character, the opinion of civilised mankind, the extent of its useful-
ness to ourselves, and the disadvantages by which it is attended.
It will not be necessary for me to go at any length into the
question — which was not before the Commission — of the moral
validity of the usage. There are of course two schools. I do not
know that the general case against the capture of private property
has ever been better stated than in an essay by the late Professor
Vol. LVIU— No. 345 SB
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722 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Nov.
of Intematioiial Law at Oxford, Mr. Hontagne Bernard — writing,
by the way, before the Declaration of Paris.^ Mr. Bernard traces
the growth of the laws and usages of war, attributing the difEerence
between land and naval warfare largely to the conservative tendenciee
of the legal tribunals which have had to administer the laws of war
on the sea. Private property, which is sacred on dry land, is lawful
booty at sea. The defenders and apologists of the rule would probably
dispute the magnitude of the alleged difference. Requisitions and
forced contributions on land, they say, are as cruel in their effects,
as much an outrage on private property, as the seizure of ships and
cargoes at sea. There appears to me to be a material difference in
this, that private property on land is not now subject to confiscation by
the enemy as a matter of course. ^ The progress of civilisation,' says
Wheaton, * has slowly but constantly tended to soften the extreme
severity of the operations of war by land ; but it still remains un-
relaxed ' in respect to maritime warfare, in which the private property
of the enemy, taken at sea or afloat in port, is indiscriminately liable
to capture and confiscation.' The burden of proof, says Bernard,
is on those who advocate right of capture at sea. So fur as I know
their arguments they come to this, that destruction of ccnmneroe
will mercifully shorten hostilities, and that the abolition of the usage
would be an undue preference to shippers and shipowners, who ought
to bear their share of the inconvenience of war like other citizens.
Private property must be subject to capture at sea, because on the
sea there is nothing else to capture. The State consists of citizens, and
in ruining the individual citizen you pro kmto injure the State, which
is the object of all war. At bottom the difference is one between
those who believe in making war as hurtful as possible, and those
who would like to make it as humane as possible. I venture to side
with the latter on this issue. The abolition of this usage would be in
line with other conventions mitigating the hardships of war, which,
indeed, some of the advocates of the rule do not hesitate to condemn.
It is admitted, I think, that <m the general issue there is, outside
of Great Britain at any rate, a great ^ponderanoe of opinicm on the
side of abolition. And even in this country many who maint»ain the
moral validity of the rule are now inclined to doubt its utility to
Great Britain.
I proceed to the more practical question of tiie value of tiie existing
rule to Great Britain.
On the bare question of utility the Commission decided not to
invite the Admiralty to express its views. We had, therefore, no
authoritative exposition of modem naval policy on this point. But
it will be seen from the passages cited below that the mere destruction
of cinnmerce does not count for so much in naval strategy as many
outsiders have supposed. The first business of the Britiedi Navy is
' Oxford Essays, 18^6. ' Except by the Declaration of Paris.
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1906 NAVAL CAPTURE OF PRIVATE GOODS 728
to seek and destroy the enemy's ships of war, as we have been told in
more than one Admiralty memorandum. No force available for that
purpose is to be deflected to any other, neither to the special protec-
tion of our own commerce nor to harassing the commerce of the
enemy. If this policy be good for us it will be good for every other
well-advised naval Power, and the conclusion is suggested that com-
merce will be in no very great danger — ^at least, until the command of
the sea is established on one side or the other. That, I presume, is
the meaning of the assurance given by the Admiralty that substanti-
ally there will be no great diminution in the volume of our sea-borne
supplies. On the other hand, the evidence of business men tended
also to minimise the importance of this vaunted weapon. These
experts seemed to assume as a matter of course that the commerce
of the enemy would very speedily be transferred to neutral bottoms,
and that the sea would be denuded of what Sir Archibald Alison
describes as the rightful rewards of naval victory. I do not know
whether the recent action of our Admiralty in laying up and selling
o£E so many cruisers, of considerable power and no great age, has any
bearing on this question. Many of these vessels were at any rate
good enough for attacking merchant ships, and were equal, if not
superior, to the ships that would have to be employed by foreign
navies for that purpose.
One point, the extent to which the weapon is likely to be used,
is clearly elucidated in the report. The Commissioners say, as the
result of communications with the Admiralty, some of which, for
obvious reasons, could not be published :
Even if such an attack (i,e. on commerce) were attempted, it probably could
not last long, since the vital importance of obtaining sapremaoy at sea is now
80 well imderstood by all maritime nations that it seems unlikely any of them
"would deliberately expend their strength in attempting such an enterprise as a
general attack on commerce before the main issue has been decided. It there-
fore appears to us that the regular attack on commerce, if it takes place at all,
-will be a second phase of the war, after one side or the other has obtained the
pre-eminence.
Another most important point is that, since the Declaration of
Paris of 1856, the rule, in the opinion of most authorities, must tend
to transfer our vast carrying trade in time of war to neutral flags.
The terms of the Declaration of Paris must here be kept in mind.
These are :
(1) Privateering is and remains abolished.
(2) The neutral flag covers enemy's merchandise^ with the excep-
tion of contraband of war.
(3) Neutral merchandise, with the exception of contraband of
war, is not capturable under the enemy's flag.
(4) Blockades, in order to be obligatory, must be effective.
3 B 2
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Itifl cuBtomary to say that this instrument is not part of the Law
of Nations, inasmuch as all the Powers are not parties to it, and its
terms are therefore binding only on the signatories. The objection is
frequently based on a wrong idea of the Law of Nations — attributing to
that collection of international conventions and usages an immutable
and transcendental character which it does not and never did possess.
There are still, it would seem, people who believe that a British Act
of Parliament must not and cannot contravene a rule of the Law
of Nations, and that ' the Courts * would very smnmarily rule any
such statute to be null and void. Of course this is all nonsense.
The Law of Nations at the best is only a collection of usages, more or
less well ascertained, which the civilised nations of the world have
formally or informally agreed to observe in their mutual dealings. If
all the civilised peoples of the world had agreed to the Declaration,
nobody would hesitate to rank it among the most certain and authori-
tative sentences of International Law. The chief abstention was
that of the United States, which only the other day formally announced
its determination to abide by its rules in the Spanish war.
Attempts have been made by the apologists of the existing rule to
make it appear that the attitude of the United States is one of doubtful
significance. When they were asked to give in their adhesion to the
Declaration of Paris of 1866, their reply was that they were not willing
to debar themselves from the right to use privateers, as their policy
was to have a small Navy and they always had a large and much-
exposed oonmierce ; but they would agree to the articles if all private
property at sea should be held exempt from capture. * This, known
as the Marcy Amendment, was well received by the other parties to
the Articles of Paris, but was prevented from being adopted -by the
opposition of England. Subsequently the United States withdrew
its proposal, seemingly unwilling to renounce the right to use privateers,
even on the terms of the exemption of aU private property.' ^ It has
been said that the Marcy Amendment was a statement on the part
of the Executive Power, unsupported by the sanction of the Senate,
whose assent is necessary to Treaty stipulations, and that it was not
pressed by the Executive which had proposed it. When the Spanish
American War broke out in 1898, the Government of the United
States signified to the Powers its intention ' not to resort to privateer-
ing, but to adhere to the rules of the Declaration of Paris.' There
is here, it is said, no hint of a desire to revive the old proposal of Mr.
Marcy, that private property should be exempt from capture at sea,
and the inference is accordingly drawn that the replies so often made
by the United States when invited to accept the Declaration were
insincere — implying no belief in the practicability of the suggestion.
The recent action of the Government of that country, including
■ Wheaton's International Law, 476 n.
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1906 NAVAL CAPTURE OF PRIVATE GOODS 725
the Legislature as well as the Executive, belies these inuendoes. The
President's invitation was based on a joint resolution of both Houses
of Congress, and it was made at a time when the United States had
abandoned the policy of a small Navy. The Marcy Amendment
of 1856 remains the expression of the deliberate doctrine of the United
States, now about to become one of the greatest, if not the greatest,
of naval Powers. It.is impossible to exaggerate the importance of this
new factor in the controversy.
One reads now with some surprise the speech in which John Stuart
Mill in the House of Commons denounced the whole Declaration.*
I think he has been proved to be wrong in his anticipations of the con-
sequences of the Declaration, and entirely wrong in his conception of
American policy. But he puts with great force the argument that
having approved of the Declaration, we ought to go still further, ' that
private property at sea and not contraband of war should be exempt
from seizure in all cases.' Assuming that we were at war with one of
the parties to the Declaration, he argues that
if onr commerce would be safe in neutral bottoms, but unsafe in our own, then
if the war were of any duration our whole export and import trade would pass
to the neutral flags, and most of our merchant shipping would be thrown out
of employment. A protracted war on such lines would end in national disaster.
It will then become an actual necessity for us to take the second step and
obtain the exemption of all private property at sea from the contingencies of
war.
He suggests a doubt, however, whether we could now induce other
Powers, * having thus got us at a disadvantage,' to consent to this
alteration. I have known many persons who, not knowing, as Mill did,
the history of the question, cannot imagine that other nations would
for a moment consent to abrogate a rule which is so manifestly dis-
advantageous to this country. The answer to the philosopher as well
as to the man in the street is that we have the opportunity at this
very moment, and that we owe it to the very Power — the United States
— of which Mill says that in case of war the destruction of its enemy's
commerce will be its most potent weapon. As we have already seen,
the dependence of our people on foreign supphes has vastly increased
in the forty years that have elapsed since Mill spoke. It must not be
inferred that Mill in any way favoured the situation that would be
created by the aboUtion of the right of capture. It would be, he
declared, naval war coupled with commercial peace — a combination
which he regarded as ridiculous and wrong. The whole speech is
evidently coloured by the conviction that naval power will always be
found on the side of freedom, and that the destruction of conmierce is
its most potent weapon — both extremely doubtful propositions.
* Hansard, August 6, 1867.
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726 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Nov.
In 1862 a Select Committee of the House of Commons reported
thus :
Our shipowners will thereby \i,e, by the Declaration] be placed at an immense
disadvantage in the event of a war breaking out with any important European
Power. In fact, should the Declaration of Paris remain in force during a
period of hostilities, the whole of our carrying trade would inevitably be
IransfiBrred to neutral bottoms.
They argue that
We must either secure the general consent of all nations to establish the
immunity of merchant ships and their cargoes from the depredations of both
privateers and armed national cruicers during hostilities, or we must resort to
the maintenance of our ancient rights, whereby, relying upon otir maritime
superiority, we may not merely hope to guard unmolested our merchant
shipping in the prosecution of their business, but may capture enemies' goods
in neutral ships, and thus prevent other nations from seizing the carrying trade
of the kingdom during a state of hostilities.
These views of a former generation are amply confirmed by the
representatives of trade who gave evidence before the Commission.
Take the following sentences as an example :
It is, no doubt, a point in favour of the Treaty of Paris that it will enable
ns to receive supplies, free from risk of capture, tmder the neutral flag. This
advantage is, however, completely outweighed by the prejudicial effect on our
shipping, which is now exposed, on the outbreak of war, to being starved out —
for nobody, either British or neutral, will ship his goods by a British vessel
which is liable to capture, so long as he can ship them by a neutral vessel
which is not liable to capture. By British subjects especially British ships
will be avoided, seeing that both ships and cargo will be exposed to confisca-
tion, while on neutral ships they will run no risk. By neutral subjects they
will be avoided, because, if the ship is captured, delay, loss of market, damage,
and expenses will accrue to the cargo. The Declaration of Paris is, in fact, a
* Declaration of Transfer of Belligerent Commerce to Neutral Vessels.'
It is difficult to overrate the seriousness of the danger to our shipping.
There is, so long as private property at sea remains liahle to Jwstile capture,
no single complete way out of the difficulty.
It is to be borne in mind that the province of the Commission was
limited by the fundamental assumption of the reference, that the
British fleet is to be a strong fleet. We were only entitled to consider
what measures were requisite, in addition to this prime security.
And it will be seen by reference to the Report that after considering
all possibilities and discussing a great variety of devices we were
reduced after all to the admission that for the real protection of our
position we relied mainly on the Navy. Wisely, as I venture to
think, we made no attempt to manufacture or obtain a definition of
the governing phrase of our reference. The nearest approach to
such a thing is the declaration suggested to and accepted by the
Admiralty that a * strong fleet ' must be strong enough to give
the enemy enough to do in looking after himself, so that he would
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190B NAVAL OAPTUBE OF PRIVATE GOODS 727
have no force to spare for the depredation of our commerce. This
fundamental but quite indefinite assumption is at the bottom
both of the estimates of. danger and of the suggestions for reEef.
The fleet should be strong enough to make our commerce immune ;
but, to meet possible deficiencies, other devices may have to be
sought. Those who doubted the capacity of any fleet to provide
absolute security favoured strong measures. Most of us took the
medium view that there might be danger, or the apprehension of danger,
and that some provision was advisable. But the ' strong fleet ' on
which we all relied means at least an expensive fleet. In the time
being our Navy costs us not much less than forty millions a year.
What makes us willing to bear this huge burden, and what m^kes other
nations willing to submit to similar sacrifices? The fact or the fear that
otherwise our and their vital supplies will be cut off. The * strong fleet *
is the heavy price we pay for the maintenance of the law of capture.
The C!ommission refers to President Roosevelt's invitation to the
Powers to resume the consideration of the topics left over from the
first Hague Conference. I understand that the President has now
handed over the initiative to the original author of the Conference,
the Czar, who will accordingly summon the second Conference as he
summoned the first. Whether the Russian circular will be in the
same terms as Mr. Hay's letter of last year remains to be seen, but it
can hardly fail to include among the subjects for consideration the
capture of private property at sea in time of war. It may be remem-
bered that the Conference of 1899 succeeded in framing a Convention
for the regulation of hostilities on land. It did not attempt to frame
a similar code for naval war, but it left on record a remarkable expres-
sion of opinion on the point now in question in the following words :
'The Conference expresses the wish that the proposal which
contemplates the declaration of the inviolability of private property
in naval war&re may be referred to a subsequent Conference for
consideration.' ^
The situation as it is left by the Report of the Royal Commission
on Food-supply may be summed up thus :
(1) The Commission has ascertained the extent of our dependence,
for supplies of food and raw material, on foreign sources. The prime
fact is that we import four-fifths of the wheat we consume, and that
our stocks on hand may run down so low as seven weeks' supply.
(2) The Commission was not instructed to deal with exports,
but it is true both of our exports and our imports that on sea, when
they are the property of British subjects, and are carried in British
ships, they are liable to seizure and confiscation by an enemy in time
of war.
* The regulations respecting the laws and customs of war on land include the
following : * It is especially prohibited to destroy or seize the enemy's property, unless
such destruction or seizure be imperatively demanded by the necessities of vmr.*
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728 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Nov.
(3) It is quite clear that this condition of things necessitates what
is called a strong fleet, and that, even with a strong fleet, trade will
be to some extent endangered, supplies to some extent interrupted,
prices to some extent increased. To what extent the Commission
were divided in opinion.
(4) The Commission accordingly, or rather various sections of
the Commission, have suggested various remedies, all of which would
involve serious public expenditure. But the Commiasion has not
found it within its province, as understood bj the majority, to deal
in any way with the rule of International Law which the report
declares to be the cause of all the apprehended dangers.
(5) This rule has been retained in International Law mainly by
the refusal of Qreat Britain to consent to its abolition, at a time when
her economical and even her naval position in relation to other nations
was quite unlike what it is now.
(6) The rule has been gradually falling into discredit — partially in
this country, generally in most others.
(7) There is good ground for thinking that the right of captoie
is of no great value to us, and also that it will not in fact be exercised
to any great extent until the closing stages of the war.
(8) There is also ground for thinking that, apart from the mere
question of supplies, the rule, taken in connection with the Declaration
of Paris, must have the eflect of transferring a large portion of our
vast carrying trade to neutral flags.
(9) At this very moment the rule has been formally challenged
once more by the United States Government in its proposals for the
new Hague Conference.
In the face of all these considerations I submit that no Government
will be justified in accepting even the most attenuated suggestions
of the Conmiissioners, or their witnesses, until it has made up its mind
whether the ort^o mali can be and ought to be extirpated altogether.
Edmund Robertson.
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THE DEANS AND
THE ATHANASIAN CREED
SoBfB few weeks ago an address signed by a considerable majority of
the deans of the provinces of Canterbury and York was presented to
the two archbishops. The address expressed satisfaction that the
archbishops and bishops had lately been making a serious efEort
towards solving a very difficult problem. The problem is how to
preserve intact the statement of the Catholic faith set forth in the
Athanasian Creed, and at the same time to relieve the consciences
of those who object to the recitation, in the pubUc services of the
Church, of what are known as the 'damnatory clauses' attached
to the Creed in question.
The address expressed neither approval nor disapproval of the
particular suggestions made by the bishops with a view to the solution
of the problem, but it hailed the fact that the bishops were not only
alive to the seriousness and difficulty of the problem, but had actually
attempted to face it and to cast about for some method of attacking
it, with a courage that went far to disprove the old saying, ' Episcopi
anglicani semper pavidi.'
But there were some of the deans who felt themselves unable to
sign the address, and stood aloof from the action of their brethren.
Possibly they saw no problem that needed solution, or more probably
they despaired of any solution being found, and accordingly thought
it wiser and better that the matter should be let alone altogether.
The Dean of Lichfield, however, wrote a letter to the Times news-
paper, in which he gave his reasons for not joining with the majority
of his brother deans in signing the address ; and we may take his
letter as an expression of the grounds upon which he and those whom
he represents think it best that no attempt should be made towards
reUeving the consciences of the vast number of clergy and laity who
object to the public recitation, as part of a religious service, of words
which, in their printa fwAe meaning, affirm what no sober-minded
person believes to be true.
Now what are the reasons given in the Dean of Lichfield's letter
for the attitude in the matter so strenuously taken by those whose
729
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780 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Nov.
viewB tbe letter espouses ? The attitude taken is that of * N<m
possumos/ Nothing, they think, can be done, and therefore nothing
should be attempted. Let the matter alone. Let it drift. In spite
of the distress of so many, in spite of the strongly expressed opinions
of many learned divines of unquestioned orthodoxy, still let us shut
our eyes and refuse to see the stumbling block in the way. Our
wisdom is to sit still and let things alone.
What are the reasons which the Dean of Lichfield's letter gives
for such an attitude as this t
(1) The first reason given is that, even if any change in the use of
the Athani^an Creed were in itself desirable, yet the present time
is inopportune for making any such change. * Just now,' the letter
says, * there is a widespread unsettlement of faith even in fundamental
principles,' and there is a * fear that any relaxation of the legal obliga-
tion to recite this Creed will be interpreted^ by wavering spirits at
least, as encouraging the idea that the Anglican Church ^s loosening
its hold on the Catholic hith. Tn short the present time seems singu-
larly inopportune for change.'
We are very &miliar with tiiis argument, if argument it can be
called. When people dislike the idea of a proposed change, one of
their first cries usually is that it is not the right time for the change
to be made. It is an easy thing to assert^ for of course it is entirely
a matter of opinion
To one man it may seem ^singularly inopportune' to advocate
any change in the use of the Athanasian Creed because of ' the wide-
spread unsettlement of faith.' But to another man it may seem
that the unsettlement of foith is itself partly due to the recitation,
in connection with a creed, of words which in their plain meaning so
few can accept, and that therefore it is most opportune to ami at some
change. The truth is that when men have come to the conclusion
that no change ought ever to be made in such a matter, then as a
matter of course whenever a change is mooted the time is in their
view * singularly inopportune.' The argument of inopportnneness
can accordingly have very little weight, and may at once be dismissed
from consideration.
(2) The next argument adduced in the Dean of Lichfield's letter
deserves closer attention. The argument is thus stated :
Under the existing relationship of Church and State, the directions of the
Prayer Book can only be touched by civil legislation. The rubric ez\joining the
recitation is part of an Act of Parliament, and can only be altered by another
Act. Many of onr most loyal Churchmen feel that it would be a most perilons
course to make the experiment. They have been assured by those who know
the temper of the House, that any Bill proposed to modify tlie use would
almost certainly be amended to abolish it altogether from public worship. And
what would be the consequence ? It would lead at once to a very serious
agitation on the part of not a few leading and influential Churchmen, both lay
and clerical, for the severance of Church and State, and with such a (Govern-
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1906 DEANS AND THE ATHAN ASIAN CBEED 781
ment as is largely expected a majority in favour of it would be far from
impossible. Is the matter of sufficient urgency to run this risk ? «
The statement here is that the rubric which enjoins the recitation of
the Athanasian Creed in public worship can orAj be altered by Act
of Parliament, and the fear is expressed that any attempt to alter
a rubric by Act of Parliament would be full of peril, and would almost
certainly lead to the severance of Church and State. And the question
is asked whether it would be worth while to run so great a risk for
the purpose of relieving sensitive consciences.
There can be no doubt that there is some ground for the fears thus
expressed. No Churchman can regard with equanimity an appeal
to Parliament with the view of altering a rubric. But yet, is it not
possible that the fear may be exaggerated ? Is *t quit** certain that
if Hie Convocations desire an alteration in the rubric prescribing the
use of the Athanasian Creed Parliament would be unwilling to sanction
the change desired ? Is it quite certain that even if Parliament
were to abolish altogether the rubric in question there would be any
considerable number of leading and influential Churchmen who would
at once make common cause witii the Liberation Society, and advo-
cate Disestablishment and Disendowment ? The chances are surely
greater that whatever the Church, speaking through her Convocations,
asks for in the matter of this rubric Parliament would be willing to
grant. And it is hard to believe that there would be any large number
of influential Churchmen, who, if Parliament were to sanction the
disuse of the Quicunque vult in the public services of the Church,
would for that reason at once join with the enemies of the Church,
and help them to inflict so grievous a wound as Disestablishment and
Disendowment would be upon the Church of their baptism. Influen-
tial Churchmen acting in this fashion would prove themselves to
be no true sons of the Church of England. They would be more
like sons who had turned traitors to their own mother. Surely they
would be few in number, and they would be utterly condemned by
the vast majority of the true and faithful sons of the Church. Possibly
they might secede. Threats of secession are sometimes heard from
the ranks of those who will tolerate no change m the pubUc use of
the Athanasian Creed. If secessions were to take place, in the event
of any change being made, they would be deeply mourned, and a
serious wound would be inflicted upon the Church. But the wound
would not be fatal. The Church of England survived the secession
of John Henry Newman. And she would still live, even if she lost
the use of the Athanasian Creed m her public services, and even if
she lost at the same time the support and love of some of her prominent
members.
But it must be pomted out that it is not in accordance with facts
5o say, as the Dean of Lichfield says in his letter, that the rubric
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782 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Nov.
enjoining the recitation of the Athanasian Creed oan only be altered
bj Act of Parliament. Technically, no doubt, the dean is right.
Practically he is wrong. Is it not the case that more than one rubric
in the Prayer Book has already been practically altered without any
Act of Parliament at all ? There is, for instance, a rubric enjoining
what is called the Long Exhortation in the service for Holy Com-
munion. That rubric has been practically ^altered/ m the sense
that it has ceased to be observed and has fallen into desuetude ; and
Parliament has had nothing to do with the change. The Ornaments
Rubric, supported by the Advertisements of 1566 and by the
Canons of 1603, and as interpreted by the Privy Council, enjoins
the use of the cope by the * principal minister' at the celebration
of Holy Communion in cathedral churches. That rubric has been
* altered ' in the sense that it has ceased to have force, without any
interference of Parhan\ent. The same is the case with other rubrics
that might be cited. What is to prevent the same thing happening
in course of time to the rubric enjoining the recitation of the Atha-
nasian Creed I
If the feeling grows and spreads that the ^danmatory clauses'
do, in their prima fade meaning, go beyond what is warranted by
Holy Scripture, as the Upper House of the Convocation of Canterbury
has affirmed that they do, it is quite possible that the rubric enjoining
the public recitation of such words may gradually fall into disuse;
in which case the rubric would be practically ' altered ' without any
reference to Parliament. This is one of the conceivable ways by whidi
some change in the use of the Quicunque tHib might be effected,
without any appeal to Parliament. So that it is not correct to state,
without qualification, that ^ the directions of the Prayer Book can only
be touched by civil legislation.'
If the change desired by so many is in itself right and is in the
interests of truth the difficulties in the way of any such change ought
not to act as a deterrent, as suggested by the Dean of Lichfield's
letter, but rather as a stimulant. Difficulties, in the view of earnest
and eager natures, are not meant to be acquiesced in, but to be faced
and overcome. What is widely desired is that there should be some
change as to the compulsory use of the Athanasian Creed, as it stands,
in the pubUc worship of the Church, not from any wish to avoid its
statements of Catholic truth, but because the 'danmatory clauses'
attached to it go beyond what is warranted by Holy Scripture. That
there are enormous difficulties in the way of any change, not only
if an appeal to Parliament should be necessary, but in other directions
also, must be freely adjnitted. But difficulties that stand in the
way of what is right and true are apt, m the long run, to yield to
earnest and persistent pressure.
(3) The Dean of Lichfield further objects to the idea that the
bishops should exercise a dispensing power by which clergy might
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1905 DEANS AND THE ATH AN ASIAN CBEED 788
be releaBed from the obligation to recite the Athanasian Creed in
the services of the Church. His letter says : * My third reason arises
from the suggestion made in the Upper House (of the Convocation
of Canterbury) that the bishops should exercise a dispensing power
by that Ji^ LUurgicum which for some purposes is certainly inherent
in the episcopal office.'
No doubt there are serious objections to this method of attempting
to solve the problem, one of which the dean points out with much
force : ^ Unless the bishops were unanimous one diocese would be
relieved, another not, and, in any case, in individual parishes discord
would be rife.'
But inasmuch as the address of his brother deans to the arch-
bishops did not even allude to, much less endorse, the suggestion, it
is difficult to see how the Dean of Lichfield found in such a suggestion
any reason for holding aloof from his brethren.
(4) The next reason adduced in the dean's letter is of the nature
of a threat : ' Those clergy who have been practising what are called
" rituahstic irregularities " would be far less Ukely to accept the godly
admonition of their bishops if they had disregarded their feeUngs in
matters which to them are of vital importance.'
It is necessary to take in the full meaning of this statement. It
says, in efEect, that if any change should be made in the present use
of the Athanasian Creed, those clergy who practise what are called
^ritualistic irregularities,' having had their feelings disregarded on
a matter which is to them of vital importance, will be less likely to
obey the godly admonition of their bishops. That is to say, that
if a burning question, which enUsts on both sides of it a vast amount
of the orthodoxy and piety of the Church, should eventuAUy be decided
by authority in a way contrary to the ideas and wishes of certain
clergy, then it is Ukely that these clergy wiU hesitate to accept the
godly admonitions of their bishops, and so forget the solemn vow
and promise made at their ordination. Every priest in the Church
of England is asked at his ordination, ^WiU you reverently obey
your ordinary, and other chief ministers unto whom is committed
the charge and government over you ; following with a glad mind
and will their godly admonitions, and submitting yourselves to their
godly judgments ? ' And every priest has repUed to that question,
* I will so do, the Lord being my helper.'
To say that, in spite of that vow and promise, the ritualistic clergy
would hesitate to accept the godly admonitions of their bishops, imder
the circumlstances mentioned, is to express a very poor opinion of
those clergy, for which they will hardly be grateful. For myself
I entertain a far higher opinion of the honesty and loyalty of the
* rituahstic ' clergy as a body.
The threat that is thinly veiled under this statement is on a par
with the threat lately made in certain quarters, that if ' Uturgical
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784 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Not,
vestments ' should in any way be recognised by authority, the whole
EvangeUcal party will have to ' reconsider their position.' Threats
of this nature are easily made ; but they are not very frightening, and
they are seldom carried out.
(6) The dean's letter proceeds to suggest some reUef for consciences
that are troubled by the * damnatory clauses.' The suggestion is
that the clergy should take pains to explain these clauses, and teach
their people that the words do not mean what they actually say.
This suggestion is a frank admission that the words in their prima
facU meaning cannot be sustained. It is an acceptance of what was
affirmed by the Upper House of the Convocation of Canterbury, and
also of the contention put forward by the eighteen deans in their
address. So far from this suggestion being a reason why the Dean
of Lichfield should have withheld his signature from the address, it
is really a very strong reason why he should have signed it. It is
because these particular words need explanation to show that they
do not mean what they appear to mean, that exception is taken
to their public recitation in the services of the Church in connecti<»
with a creed — ^with the grave probabiUty, or rather with the absolute
certainty, that they mislead many.
The eighteen deans in their address to the archbishops desired
to make it perfectly plain that they have no wish whatever to change
in the slightest degree the statement of the CathoUc faith as set forth
in the Athanasian Creed. All that they wished to do was to strengthen
the hands of the bishops in the effort they are making to find some
solution of a most difficult problem. The words of the Archbishop
of Canterbury in reply to the address of the deans deserves the most
earnest attention of all Churchmen.
The sitaation [he says] calls for the exercise of patience, faithfolness, and
eager sympathy for those who do not see eye to eye with ourselves in the
particular view we may take as to the existing need or its remedy. But I
cannot doubt that under the Divine guidance our Church will find ere long
the true mode of ending these disputations without in the remotest degree
imperilling her allegiance to the faith of the Church Catholic, or giving
legitimate pain to the susceptibilities of even the most sensitive of her children.
And all Churchmen may fitly join in the hope so well expressed
by the Dean of Lichfield at the close of his letter : ' That in His own
good time the Holy Spirit, Who has never ceased to control the Church,
will put into her mind a solution of the difficulty which will effect the
purpose without injustice to one side or the other.'
But, while cherishing these hopes and aspirations, it is the duty
of Churchmen by thought, by argument, by wise appreciation of
scruples, by tender regi^ for sensitive consciences, by learning, by
foresight, by Christian love one towards another, to prepare the way
for the solution of the problem, which we pray God to send to ui
in His own good time.
P. F. EuoT.
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1905
THE LORD'S DAY OBSERVANCE
A REPLY TO LORD AVEBURY
An article on * The Recent Increase in Sunday Trading/ contributed
by Lord Avebury to the September number of this Review, explains
and justifies the Bill dealing with this matter which he recently laid
once more before the House of Lords.
Li the course of that article he expresses his regret that * in con-
sequence of (certain) exemptions the Bill is opposed by the Lord's
Day Observance Society ' ; not unsupported, he might have added,
by some disparaging comments from Lord Lansdowne, who described
the Bill as ^ a piece of not very successful patchwork, containing not
a few ambiguities which would lead to extreme inconvenience.' Side
by side with the proposal to strengthen the law against Sunday trading
were proposals of a wholly different kind, creating serious exceptions
in favour of Sunday trading; and certain trades were wholly un-
affected by the Bill. He further quoted some of the objections
formulated by the Lord's Day Observance Society, which went much
beyond resistance to the ^exemptions' proposed. He therefore
stated that, though he would not move the rejection of the Bill,
it seemed to him at least doubtful whether it would be for the public
advantage that they should pass it.' It was accordingly rejected,
by a majority of thirty-five votes to fourteen. {Mornimq Post and
DaUy Tdegrofh, June 30, 1905.)
It will easily be understood that the Society should consider
that its policy and action have been very inadequately presented
by Lord Avebury, and should ask permission to explain and justify
its opposition to the Bill through the same channel. Its dissatisfaction
can be no surprise to Lord Avebury, for the Society was represented
by its Secretwy before the House of Lords Select Committee which
considered the Bill, and the following questions and answers are
recorded in that Committee's Report :
847. Chaibman {Lord Avebury) : You object to some of the provisions in
the schedules ?-- Witness (Secretary L.D,0»8») : We should do so ; but we
object, in the first place, to the Bill ; because it seems to us to proceed on
different lines from those which have governed all Sunday legislation for a
thousand yean past.
785
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786 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT . Nov.
848. Chaibmam : Yon have heard from the other witnesses that that legisla-
tion has proved absolutely a dead letter ? — Witness : Because of the smallness
of the fine, and we think for no other reason.
879. Chairman : May we sum up your view in this way, that if there was
a Bill which increased the fines against Sunday trading, without altering the
exemptions, that would meet the views of yomr Society? — Witness: Your
Lordship presided over a Select Committee in connection with the Bill for the
Early Closing of Shops, and the Beport said, * Many witnesses also expressed
a strong desire that the law relating to Sunday trading ' (the Act of Charles the
Second) ' should be strengthened by applying to it the scale of fines proposed
in the present Early Closing Bill.' We accepted that as being in thorough
harmony with our views about the matter.
882. Chairman : Supposing that power to the local authorities was omitted,
and the exemptions were altered as you suggest, then the Bill would meet with
your views? — ^Witness: No. I think myself^ from a careful study of the
history of the past forty years, as recorded in the Minutes of my Committee,
that my Committee would be prepared to say that it is a very dangerous thing
to give up a law that is based on a sound principle in favour of one that
tampers with it. Instead of tinkering a new Bill, and trying to put it right,
they would rather keep what they have got.
It is somewhat surprising, after these candid statements and
others supplied more than once to each member of the House of
Lords, that Lord Avebury should retain, and convey to the readers
of this Beview, the impression that the resistance offered to this
Bill by the Society is based merely on the extended legalisation of
Sunday trading proposed by the exemptions contained in the schedules
to the Bill.
The Society's position has a much more solid foundation than
the sands of these shifting schedules, which openly betrayed, no later
than last year, the real purpose of the Bill and its many precursors.
That position rests on the settled principle of the most ancient of our
Sunday legislation, the firm determination of Ina, and Alfred, and
Athelstan, and other legislators of a thousand years ago, that there
should be neither merchandising nor labour on the Lord's Day;
beneath which, as a bedrock, was the belief that they were thus giving
a national application to a general Divine law. In this they were
supported by the Great Council of the infant kingdom, who enforced
their determination by imposing such a fine as should, according
to the monetary standards of their day, not merely punish the wrong-
doer, but also make his vnrongdoing unprofitable. They were wise
in their generation.
From its earUest days Parliament has given statutory support
to the national conviction. Each new aggression on the part of
Sunday traders has been met by new legislation, having for its object
the enforcement in the particular case of a general principle recognised
as fundamental : NO SUNDAY TRADING.
Beginning with the reign of Edward the Third (28 Edw. III., c. 14),
when the eidiibiting for sale of wools was forbidden on Sundays,
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1905 TEE LORD'S DAY OBSEBVANCE 787
followed by an Act of Henry the Sixth (27 Hen. VI., o. 5) prohibiting the
holding of fairs on Sondajrs, and later still by the statute of James the
First (1 Jas. I., c. 22), under which no shoes, boots, &c., are to be shown
to the intent to put to sale upon the Sunday, every attempt on the part
of Sunday traders to disregard the national conviction of the wrong-
fulness and hurtfulness of such trading has met with the most decided
opposition in the National Parliament. Finally, a comprehensive
measure was passed in the reign of Charles the Second (29 Chas. II.,
0. 7) forbidding Sunday trading altogether, with certain exceptions
having regard to human necessities.
Careful consideration of these and subsequent Acts of Parliament
dealing with this matter will show :—
(1) That Simday trading generally has been regarded as inadmis-
sible.
(2) That exceptions have hitherto (for obvious reasons) been
made as to dealing in mackerel, bread, milk, beer, water, and (imder
certain conditions) cooked food ; but
(3) That these exceptions have been rigidly safeguarded, so as to
confine them strictly within the bounds of a real or assumed ' neces-
sity,' especially by Umitation of the permissible hours of sale.
The smallness of the penalties for breach of these laws, viz. a fine
of five shillings, or the forfeiture of the goods unlawfully exposed for
sale, has weakened their force imder modem conditions ; but if this
shortcoming were amended, these laws, as affecting Sunday trading,
would remain in principle and application as reasonable and as prac-
tical as any which modem legislation has proposed, not excepting
Lord Avebury's Bill.
Side by side, however, with this continuation of the old legislation
against Sunday trading and Sunday labour, the support of Parliament
was being sought for the enforcement of Sunday observance, especially
in the form of compulsory attendance at the services of the Established
Church.
Even the Reformed Church came under iike influence of these
tendencies. The Injunctions of Edward the Sixth, the Act 5 & 6 Edward
the Sixth, c. 3, and the 13th Canon of 1603, though proposing no penalty
save ecclesiastical censures, prepared the way for a new current of
legislation, based on poUtical as well as religious considerations,
and seeking to enforce by civil penalties the due observance of the
Lord's Day ; and, especially, participation in the services and sacra-
ments of the parish church.
The two currents find a momentary point of contact in the Act
of Charles the Second (29 Chas. II., c. 7), whose preamble recites that —
For the better observation and keeping holy the Lord's Day, commonly
caUed Sunday^ be it enacted. . . . That all the laws enacted and in force
oonceming the obeervation of the Lord's Day, and repairing to the church
Vol. LVm— No. 346 8 C
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788 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Nov.
thereon, be carefully pat in execntion; and that all and every person and
pertoni whatever shall, on every Lord's Day, apply themselves to the obeerva-
tion of the same by exercising themselves thereon in the duties of piety and
true religion, publicly and privately.
But the operative claoses whioh follow make no provision for
enforcing these pious opinions by any penalties under this Act, but
deal only with Sunday labour, Sunday trading, Sunday traffic, and the
servioe of writs on Sunday. There is, therefore, no ground for the
suggestion put forward by Lord Avebury as Chairman of the Select
Committee, that ^ in the Act of Charles the Second there are penalties
appUed for not going to church,' and, therefore, ^ a great prejudice
against putting the Act in operation.'
It is rather a case for applying what an earlier Select Committee
(1896) said of tiie Lord's Day Act of George the Third : * Other
examples can readily be found of statutes enacted in a former age
and still in force, in which sound principles are clothed in phraseology
entirely out of date.'
A most pertinent example occurs in the Toleration Act (1 William
and Mary, c. 18), under which the preamble in question, together with
the legislation to which it referred, ceased to have any practical
effect ; and yet Section 16 of that Act itself repeats the old formula :
^ All the laws made and provided for the frequenting of Divine service
on the Lord's Day, commonly called Sunday, shall be still in force and
executed against all persons that offend against the said laws, unless
such persons come to some congregation or assembly of religious
worship allowed or permitted by this Act.'
The rhetorical flourish of the first part of this section has not been
thought to impair the value of the second part, or to render it obsolete,
or to justify efforts to get the whole repealed. Nay, rather, the National
Sunday League has found it possible, in these ultra-tolerant days,
to shield its Sunday entertainments at the Alhambra and similar
places against the penalties of the Qeorgian Act (21 G}eo. ni., c. 49),
by registering them, under that Section 16, as the assemblies for
religious worship of congregations of anonymous dissenters !
But the drying up of the post-Reformation stream of Sunday
legblation, aimed chiefly at Dissenters and Nonconformists, leaves
the main current of the old Saxon legislation against Sunday trading
and Simday labour in undiminished force ; and it is this legislation,
not any later accretion to it, which is re-affirmed, under penalty,
in the Act of Charles the Second.
The experience of Hull, Cardiff, and many other centres, has
proved the efficiency of the Act to secure the conviction of Sunday
traders, though not to inffict upon them a deterrent penalty. But
it never seems to have occurred to any one but Lord Avebury to
regard its preamble as an active terror to non-churchgoers. Certainly
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1906 THE LOBD'S DAT 0B8EBVANCE 789
no record exists of any attempt to improve the Sunday attendance
at parish churches, or the altematiye ^assemblies of worship/ by
inyoking aid from that source, or from the corresponding terms of
the Toleration Act. ^
It is, in fact, on the present inadequacy of the penalty that we lay
the chief blame for the admitted failure of the Act to prevent that
increase in Sunday trading which we, in common with Lord Avebury,
note and lament. We should accept a large proportion of the evidence
which he has accumulated to prove, what no one probably would deny,
that the evil is still rapidly increasing. The recent influx of foreigners
accustomed to Sunday trading in their own country, and resenting
the restraints of our Ei^lish ways rather than grateful for the freedom
they accord ; the Sunday fairs, disgraceful as we judge them, which
they have established in our midst ; the Sunday competition which
they, in some sense, force on neighbouring traders ; and the infectious
lawlessness in this respect which is spreading in our great towns —
all of these suggest to us, as strongly as to him, that it is desirable
to take legislative steps to deal with such evils. Only, we find his
plan novel and unsound in principle, sure to prove cumbrous and
ineffective in practice, and quite uncalled for by the necessities of the
position ; while our own proposes simply to maintain the present law,
sound and long-tried in principle, easy of application, and needing
nothing but to be strengthened where the altered value of money since
Charles the Second's time has rendered its five shillings penalty
ineffective, unless when supplemented by * costs.'
All that is required is a short Act, like that (34 & 35 Vict., c. 87)
which in 1871 limited the power of prosecution imder the Act of
Charles the Second to those who have the written permission of the
heads of police, or of a stipendiary magistrate, or of two justices
of the peace.
We accept Lord Avebury's general statements as to the anxiety
of the shopkeepers and shop assistants to secure reUef from the pressure
put upon them by Simday competition, and as to their readiness
to petition in favour of a Bill which has been commended to them in
newspaper paragraphs and in trade conferences, as it is now com-
mended by Lord Avebury to the readers of this Review, as a measure
for the Sunday 'dosing' of shops, with some trifling exceptions
in favour of ' perishables,' or articles like tobacco and sweets and
fruit and newspapers, which may or may not be ' necessary ' articles
of consumption on Simday, but which would not have 'perished,'
in the Parliamentary sense, had they been purchased on Saturday,
or even earlier in the week.
Many of these victims, petitioners, and readers may be under
the impression, which receives some support from Lord Avebury's
article, that the measure under discussion is only the crown and
3 c 2
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740 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Nov.
oonBiimmation of the Act by which he last year secuied, theoretically
perhaps rather than practically, the weekday closing of shops at
reasonable hours. There is certainly nothing in the recent article to
disabuse their minds of this baseless idea, or to suggest to the un-
initiated that the Bill is in the main an ancient and rather battered
formula, re-edited with additions which do not strike us as improve-
ments. They are even likely to be confirmed in their error by the
casual remark, ^ When I first drafted the Bill,' and by the tactical
masterstroke which abandoned the familiar title of the oft-defeated
measure, and called it the ' Sunday Closing (Shops) Bill.'
But the Bill is a very old acquaintance of ours. The ^exemp-
tions ' were first introduced, so far as our records go, in somewhat
elementary shape, as amendments to a Bill which was before Parlia-
ment in 1834, when it is Uttle likely that Lord Avebury had any hand
in the drafting. These and other objectionable features appeared in
successive Bills on Sunday Trading promoted by Lord Robert Gros-
venor (1856), Lord Chehnsford (1860, 1861, 1866), Mr. T. Hughes (1867,
1868, 1869, 1870), Mr. T. Chambers (1872), Sir J. Lubbock (1888),
Sir C. Dilke (1903), and Lord Avebury (1904, 1905).
They have been criticised and opposed by this Society on every
occasion, not only as permitting needless forms of Sunday trading,
but also as setting aside the fundamental principle of English Sunday
legislation for a thousand years past.
The Act of Charies the Second gathered into one statute, adapted
to the conditions of the day, various attempts to apply effectively the
old Saxon laws against Sunday labour as well as Sunday trading. It is
not only a standing protest against the lawfulness of Sunday trading,
it is equally a declaration of the unlawfulness of Sunday labour. It
has recentiy been invoked, successfully, to secure compensation for
two working men who were summarily dismissed by their master for
refusing to work on Sunday.
Te^ no longer ago than last year, Lord Avebury in his zeal to
promote his own special end, proposed to repeal the entire statute,
except the clause affecting the Sunday service of writs, together
with a section of the Bread Act of 1836, which restrains Sunday labour
as wen as Sunday trading, and the Sunday Observation Prosecution
Act of 1871, which reserves to individuals a carefully guarded power
to set the law in motion against promoters of Sunday labour as well as
Sunday trading.
It will be seen that the Society's opposition has throughout been
based on questions of principle, as well as on matters of detaU ; but
it may be weU to summarise its chief objections to Lord Avebury's
latest proposals, objections which have abeady been brought imder
the notice of each member of the House of Lords, including, it would
seem, even Lord Lansdowne, and certainly Lord Avebury himself.
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1905 THE LOBD'8 DAT OBSERVANCE 741
(1) It is a violation of the fundamental principle of English legis-
lation— ^the acceptance of the scriptural standard of lawful and unlawful
as regards Sunday labour and Sunday trading.
(2) It is a departure from the legislative method hitherto adopted,
by which permissible Simday trading has been carefully restricted
to articles regarded as necessaries and perishables, and to certain
limited periods of the day.
(3) It proposes to place in the hands of local authorities a power
to extend exemption to articles of sale not specified in the schedules,
and exclusive power to enforce the law, without any corresponding
obligation to do so.
(4) It thus substitutes local option for the operation of National
convictions and the discharge of National responsibilities.
(5) Its terms are vague and easily open to evasion.
(6) It is deceptive. Professing to be a Sunday Closing Bill, it
closes no shops (except barbers' shops) which were not previously
closed by Act of Parliament ; while it legalises, for the first time, the
opening on Sunday of shops for the sale of refreshments for immediate
consumption ; of newspapers, magazines, and periodicals ; of milk
and cream throughout the whole day (an addition of seven hours'
Sunday work to the attendants in such establishments) ; of fish
generally (mackerel alone having hitherto been exempted) ; of
vegetables and fruit ; of tobacco, pipes, and smokers' * requisites ' ;
and of any others which may conmiend themselves to the sympathies
or be forced on the acceptance of local authorities.
(7) It is injurious to the best interests of young people. It gives
legislative sanction and encouragement to those very forms of Sunday
trading which put temptation in the way of boys and girls on the
Lord's Day, and whose mischievous results are a constant source of
complaint by Christian workers of all denominations.
(8) It proposes, in the supposed interests of slum dwellers, to
permit a considerable amount of Sunday-morning trading, in disregard
of the fact that this class legislation will affect the whole country,
and not ' slums ' only ; and of the equally obvious fact that dwellings
so foul that food cannot spend Saturday night there without becoming
unfit for human consumption are not quite suitable abodes for human
beings, or entitied to the benefit of exceptionally indulgent legislation.
(9) It must prove impracticable in operation. It sets up two
different standards of statutory legaUty, and innumerable standards
of principle and action for selection by local authorities.
(10) And it is unnecessary. If the real object be to reduce Sunday
trading and Sunday labour, nothing is needed but a simple measure,
as direct and as short as the Act which modified the power of prose-
cution, but applying the suggested scale of penalties to the existing
Sunday Observance Act of 1677.
Fbedebio Pbakb, Secretary L.D.O.S.
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742 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Not.
DAYS IN A PARIS CONVENT
Thb long street which runs fnm the left bank of the Seine nght
into the heart of the Faubourg is anusuallj oongested with traffic.
Where the dope uphill becomes decided, and a certain dignity is
given to the street by the imposing stone front of the convent, the
press is thickest. A highly polished coupi comes into dangerous
proximity with the shining panels of an electric brougham. The
driver of a fiacfty his face shining scarlet in the March wind under
his ^azed white hat, shouts all those imprecations dear to the Paris
jehu to the chauffeur of a noisy and malodorous automobile which
insists upon blocking his way. Presently, however, there is a move
on : a heavy carriage and pair, a carriage which might have seen the
light under the Second Empire, lumbers away from the wide oak
doorway beneath the statue of the crowned Mother and GhUd.
The vehicles behind it fall into a slowly moving line, and by
the time he in his turn deposits his fare at the convent door,
even the cooAer in the white hat has subdued his expletives to a
harsh whisper.
The sisters of Notre Dame de Bon Secours are giving hospitality
to a retreat of one of those excellent philanthropic societies which have
flourished amongst the ladies of Paris since the dajrs of St. Vincent
de Paul. The sisters take a particular interest in tlus society,
for did not its f oimdress live for a time in La Solitude, the little house
hidden away amongst the ebn trees at the end of their garden ? Now
she lives only as a blessed memory and in the good work, the modem
representatives of which are thronging up the wide stone steps to the
chapel, loosening their heavy coats and handsome furs as they go,
the clicking of high heels maldng a cheerful accompaniment to the
subdued murmur of conversation. For outside the chapel silence is
not imposed upon the ladies of the retreat — ^perhaps because it would
be useless — and a good deal of eager discussion is audible amongst
them to-day. This society is in the forefront of fashion, as well as
of charity, and embraces some of the most distinguished ladies in
Paris. ^Ah, mon Dieu/ What would M. Combes say if he oould
see our street to-day ? ' says M^re Placide, the Mbre J^looname^ to the
sister at the porter's lodge, as, returning from a shopping expedition,
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1905 DAYS IN A PARIS CONVENT 748
she watches from the foot of the stairs the well-diessed congregation
pouring into the chapel. It is indeed a proud day for the good
sisters, but also a busy one^ and one that at times calls for a consider-
able amount of tact.
For cea dames are exacting in their spiritual as in their temporal
needs. Great things have been spoken of the abb^ who is to address
them, and they are each and all determined to hear him to the best
advantage. Madame la Duchesse de B , she of the heavy carriage,
has actually sent her footman to affix her card to a desk close under
the pulpit, retaining the seat, as she imagines, for the whole week
of RetraUe, and more than one mondaine of lesser degree have tried
to follow her example. But this is a manoeuvre which on the morrow
they will find gently but firmly checked. * J'ai retiri les cartes,* a
demure sister will explain, with a quiet smile, when the chapel doors
are opened, and the ladies will know well that expostulation is quite
unavailing. They must submit with a good grace to the gentle
noiseless ushering into the best seats that can be found for them.
Equality reigns, for the moment anyhow, within the convent, and
not the most titled or bejewelled of these fashionable philanthropists
must look for precedence. Meantime, on this opening day of the
retreat, the large and beautiful chapel of Notre Dame de Bon Secours
fills very rapidly; and presently when the abb6, whose fame has
already gone forth amongst them, mounts into the pulpit, the eyes
of the whole congregation, and not a few long-handled lorgnettes,
are fastened upon his spare but impressive figure. Here, it is felt at
once, is a striking personality. He has the square head and firm
jaw of an Erasmus, and as his discourse advances it is obvious indeed
that a Daniel has come to judgment. The opening sentences, how-
ever, are unremarkable. The M^e Gin^ale, a keen and experienced
critic, feels, indeed, a slight chill of disappointment. This is banal,
impersonal ; the ladies will never listen. They have heard enough
of the virtues of maternity, the wickedness of the world. Then
suddenly the preacher's tone changes. He is warming to his work,
and the air becomes charged with electricity. No sin of omission or
commission, no foible or folly of society as represented by his
listeners, appears to escape this man's observation nor his scathing
comment. From the ridiculous angle at which the fashion of the
day dictates the wearing of their hats to the upbringing and the
marriages of their young daughters, ces dames have to hear the
truth, fearlessly and faithfully delivered to them with an eloquence
which is at times ferocious. But they like it. The genuine sin-
cerity of the priest fascinates them, and it is a fact that a bitter
dose of tonic properly administered is often palatable. The M^re
Oinirale smiles grim approval ; the choice has, after all, been a wise
one.
Later, quite a chorus of ecstatic appreciation rises from the ladies
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744 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Nov.
as they once more click down the stone staiis, rostling their silks
and arranging their veils on some of those very hats which have
jnst been held up to opprobrium. Oddly enough, they seem to take
quite a personal pride in the preacher's merits and in their own
chastisement. ' Comme H a him parU ! ' exclaims Madame la Duchesse,
stopping to exchange salutations with M^re Placide at the foot of the
stairs, self-satiafaction still beaming from every line of her large
good-tempered face. Then she climbs into her heavy carriage and
rolls away, enchanted with her well-spent afternoon. It i9 noticeable
that some few are silent, as, drawiog their furs closely round th^n,
they pass out into the cold March twilight, where coachmen and
chaufieurs have had ample time to meditate upon the piety of their
mistresses, and perhaps to pay vicarious penance for some of their
offences. Day after day these devotees of a fashionable charity wiU
return to the convent ; day after day fresh invectives will be hurled
upon their manners and morals ; and at the end of the week, when
they finally disperse, they will ask for nothing better than that when
the next retreat is held the same scourge may be laid upon their
well-clad backs. And if their smiling equanimity has been for one
hour disturbed, if one thought or suggestion has gone to dog the
wheel of ease and luxury in their own homes, or to spur unselfish
effort in their relations with their poorer neighbours, neither the
abb^ nor the M^e OSnirdle will feel that they have spent their week
in vain.
The ladies have gone for the time being, but in the old home of
their foundress a few guests who love the convent linger on into the
spring and smnmer, learning lessons of simple piety and devotion
from the sisters, and possibly others of a more purely practical nature.
For the Mbre Econome, M^re Placide, amongst whose multifarious
duties is numbered that of looking after the welfare of the Dcanes
de la Solitude, as the guests are called, is one of the most capable and
businesslike women of her day. Outside the walls of her convent,
and were such a profession open to her sex, one feels that she might
have been a great financier. Meantime the convent surely owes
much of its prosperity to her able management. For every sou
that is paid out, for every purchase that comes in, the M^e Econome
is responsible. At any hour of the day, when the convent bell sounds
those four strokes which are meant to summon her, whether it be
for the arrival of a parcel, the reception of a visitor, or a small matter
of business to be settled, M^re Placide must hasten from any distance
to the lodge to attend to her duties. From the early mass at 5 a.ic
until the last prayers have been said in the chapel at 9 p.m. this active
septuagenarian is never off her feet. Always cheerful, always interested
and sympathetic, her shrewd humorous eyes seeing very much
further than the boundary of the convent wall, anybody who has
once had the privilege of knowing her may well feel that there are
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1905 DAYS IN A PABI8 CONVENT 745
few matters upon which her advioe would not be worth the seeking.
And not only does Mere Placide superintend the expenditure of the
convent, but she also likes to interest herself in the small purchases
of the ladies at La Solitude.
* You are going to buy a hat, madame ! You are right. In Paris
alone you will find a hat that is chic^ that is worthy of you ; in
London never ! ' Ma m^e^s knowledge of London is practically non-
existent, but this is of no consequence. ' We have a lady,' she con-
tinues, with a complete absence of frivolity in tone or intention,
* who comes here twice a year to say her prayers in our chapel. She
is bien devote. We esteem her greatly, and each time she takes back
three hats from the Rue de la Paix.' This is surely an example worth
considering; but ma mire's advice is not finished. ^ Mon enfant,
when you go to buy your hat, do not pay for it. That is not wise in
Paris. You should conmiand it in my name, the M^e Econcyme of
Notre Dame de Bon Secours, and when it arrives I will settle your
little affair for you.' At first it seems beyond the limits of propriety
to be ordering hats, matinees, and chiffons of aU sorts, which a visit
to Paris invariably entails, in the name of the reverend mother. But
the shop people seem to be in no way surprised. At one large es-
tablishment the ladies of La Solitude find themselves treated with
particular deference, for it is from here that the necessaries of life
are laid in for the convent. ' I am well known there,' says M^re
Placide, drawing herself up with the grand air which she occasionally
assimies ; and, indeed, it is possible to imagine the visits of the M^e
Econome to these particular magasins to be something in the nature
of a triimiphal progress. Certainly when her goods arrive a guest
may reap the advantage of shopping under so powerful a patronage.
Sometimes M^ Placide herself accompanies the parcels from the
lodge, and superintends the trying on of hats and dresses. She helps
to decide whether or no they are becoming, or whether madame has
been too extravagant ; and her opinion is generally to be trusted.
If the judgment is adverse, back goes the offending garment into its
carton, to be returned at ma mik^a own pleasure. For aU her good
sense, however, or perhaps on account of it, her decision is more
often thrown into the other scale. ' Ah, wms avitres,' she will say
with whimsical severity, ' you have no occupation but to think of
these things, and you should have what is best. That matinie suits
you d merveiUe, madame ; you must keep it.' And madame is quite
pleased to take the advice of this woman who for over forty years
has worn nothing but the black habit of her order.
* Are you not very tired, ma mire ? ' asks a guest when at the end
of a long day the fatal bell rings for the third time in one hour, and
M^re Placide rises a little stiffly from a bench in the garden of La
Solitude, where she has been resting for five minutes.
* Tired, mon enfant ! ' she replies cheerfully. ' Am I ever anything
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746 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Not.
else ? I am old. But, enfin^ what would you ? Work, work, and
discipline, and confidence in the good Ood — ^there lies the secret of
a happy life. Work, good work, right up to the end — there, mon
enfant,^ and a shade of unwonted seriousness momentarily darkens
her eyes, ^ is the secret of a peaceful end.' And ofi she goes through
the dusk of the garden to attend probably to some insignificant
detcdl, perfectly satisfied with her simple conception of a life's
duties.
Above all things Mdre Placide loves the children. The sorrow of
her life now is the loss of her little fentionnaiiTeB. The shadow of
M. C!ombes always lying on her heart finds visible expression in the
wall of new red brick across the garden, which cuts ofi the schod
buildings, now appropriated by the Government. How the good
sisters had loved and toiled for the children, and how theii individual
care of the little ones is missed and lamented by the parents of the
neighbourhood, not many of whom, it is to be feared, are consoled
by the thought of the possibly sounder education imparted under
the new rigime. Even the house of Nazareth, with its own gay
littie garden next to La Solitude, where English schodgiris in the past
have spent happy holidays, learning some of the graces of life as
well as the French tongue, stands empty and deserted.
The very statues of the saints at the end of the long walks
seem to miss the laughter and play of the children in their recreation
hours.
St. Anthony still receives his tribute from the novices, and
sometimes, indeed, from their elders; but he must surely wonder
what has become of those sticky bunches of flowers, half-eaten
apples, and sugar-plums, the intercessory offerings daily laid at his
feet for lost pencils, indiarubbers, gloves, and other treasures of schod
life.
Now the bleak days of March are over, and the lilacs, always
early in Paris, are in full flower in the convent garden. St. Anthony
is almost lost amongst the scented white and purple bushes, and the
birds are calling and quarrelling and setting up housekeeping in truly
unconventual fashion. In the refectory long tables are being spread,
laden with steaming bowls of cafS au lait and generous platefuls of
brioches^ cakes, and jam, and all the good things suited to the healthy
appetite of childhood. There is to be a first communion in the chapel,
and M^re Placide is in her element providing for the temporal
needs of her children, who for this day, at any rate, are to be
restored to her. ' Flowers, mon ami } ' she replies to the queries of
Joseph, the gardener, who also loves the children. * Why, of course
— Hlac.'
But when the tables are finished, and ma m!hre finds her ample
provisions positively hidden under the blossoming branches with
scarcely room for the little ones to sit between them, she is not so
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well pleased. M^ie Plaoide is the soid of generosity, but she is also
just to flowers and children alike, and Joseph, the long-sufFering, is
rebuked. * Lilac, I said — ^yes, mon amiy but not whole bushes. That
is not the way to treat God's good flowers. The garden must also be
thought of.' But the disturbance to the general harmony is a brief
one. Ma mbr^s lightning flashes of annoyance are soon over,
and to-day she is too happy to quarrel with anybody, least of
all with her faithful Joseph, and for a cause which they have in
common.
Her old eyes beam joyously as the little procession of solemn
white-frocked children is marshalled in, followed by admiring mothers
and friends. She bustles about, talking incessantly, filling the plates,
tenderly turning back veils, and lifting the smaller ones on to their
chairs, every action carrying with it something of a caress and a
benediction. In ministrations of this kind there is nothing of which
the Government can rob her, and such a thought in these imcertain
days cannot fail to bring peace and comfort.
All too soon the lilacs have finished blossoming. The last of
spring's fragrance went with M^re Am61ie, who laid down her burden
with the ease which M^ Placide had promised would be the portion
of those who work faithfully to the end.
' The good God just took her in His arms, and she slept,' said
ma rn^e, with an unexpected touch of poetry in speaking of this
death-bed. On a warm May evening, after a solemn requiem in the
chapel, Mdre Am61ie was carried down the steps between rows of
black-habited sisters, each bearing a torch, and out into the dusk,
out ioto a world of which, indeed, she knew little. ' But God and
the priests go with her,' says Soeur Marthe, the old sister at the lodge,
as she closes the door behind the modest procession. ' Soeur Marthe
has seen so many go that way out into the dark alone with the
priests. Her own turn will come soon, and she looks forward to it
with that complete absence of emotion which characterises the
whole question of mortality in a religious conmiunity. Death in a
convent seems to come as a more natural event than in the outer
world, and the surface of tranquil routine is less harshly disturbed
than would be the case in more complex surroundings. The well-
ordered machinery of life rolls on with scarcely a perceptible
check ; sadness and sorrow can have no legitimate recognition amongst
the rdigieuses because one of their number has passed on before
th^n.
There is certainly nothing of sadness in the brilliant June weather,
a few weeks later, which greets the fite of St. Jean-Baptiste. Mid-
smnmer day is the fSte of the Noviciat, and looked forward to for
many weelffl by the young girls as a day of wonderful pleasure and
emancipation. No work is done, and for many hours die garden is
filled with a cheerful hum of chatter and gaiety. Everybody in the
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convent seems to enter into this holiday of youth. Even the ansteie
BCBur oofwerse, who ministeis to the needs of the ladies of La Solitude,
is smiling genially when she makes her daily appearance with the
dSjeuner, brought from the convent kitchen dependent in two buckets
from a yoke on her shoulders. Sceur Mathilde is not only a good and
pious woman, but a bonne d tout faire of no mean order, and a cook
of superior excellence. She is, moreover, a faithful and devoted
friend and helper to the M^e Econome^ and a stem^disciplinarian to
those who work under her. To-day, however, she is disposed to be
indulgent. Presently M^re Placide comes in to superintend the
serving of the meal, a duty in which she takes a particular pleasure,
for she ranks hospitality high amongst the Christian virtues. She
looks more than usually tired, for youth, even in a convent, is exacting,
and she has been spending a whole hour in the refectory, striving
after the profitable entertainment of the novices. She is, however,
obviously satisfied. ' Ah, yes, madame,' she says, in answer to the
sympathetic inquiries of a guest, ' they are happy, les enfants, but they
are also busy. They are working for the Bon Dieu. To-morrow is the
fSte of the Saint Sacrement, and we have our procession in the garden.'
Her face suddenly darkens, and her mouth sets in a hard line. ' There
are no processions in Paris now ; all that is finished. The good God
is no longer permitted to walk in these wicked streets; but nous
avlres in our gardens we do as we like.' The passing shadow, how-
ever, cast by any reference to the iniquities of the Government
promptly disappears as ma mbre heaps the plate of her guest with a
generous helping of strawberries. Mangez^ mangez, man enfant^
mangez si vous nCaimez, From the stifiest dowager, who, like the
great ladies of a previous century, finds occasional refuge from mun-
dane responsibilities in the guest-house of the convent, to the youngest
of her former pupils on a visit, they are all mon enfcmt to this woman
with her large heart and virile mind, who so long ago found her voca-
tion, and forsook all that the world commonly holds good for her
sex. * Yes, they are very happy, the novices,' she continues cheer-
fully ; ' they have had a great surprise. The Mire OSnSraie, who is
away on a little tour of inspection, she has not forgotten them. Each
has had a little present from her to-day, and each different. Think,
mesdames, what a pleasure ! But she is good ! ' Presently as ma
m^re is passing out through the long French windows she turns, her
eyes sparkling with genuine anticipation. 'Pray for us,' she says
gaily; 'pray for us that we may have a fine day to-morrow,
otherwise it will be so sad for the children. But surely,* she
adds, with the habit of unquestioning faith, ' the Bon Dieu will not
forget us.'
And He does not. The June Sunday upon which the Fete Dieu,
the Feast of Corpus Christi, is held dawns fair and cloudless. The
convent wakes as usual with the birds, and the inmates of La Solitude
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rouse themselves in time for the early Mass. Everybody is of a
cheerful comitenance. The sisters are all in new habits. M^re
Placide is positively bashful in her fresh black and clean starched
coif. The smirs converses go about with shining faces. No work of a
menial character is ever done on a Sunday, though to the lay mind
the distinctions are sometimes difficult of comprehension. On this Sun-
day of Sundays the whole community must be happy. M. Combes
may well look the other way whilst the sun shines so brilliantly on
this little band of the faithful. That the dread spectre ever present
in any French convent of to-day is not wholly banished from their
midst, however, is made manifest by M^re Placide's unwonted gravity
when she lingers a moment in the garden with her guests at midday.
In the morning there has been a rumour that a procession for the Fete
Dieu is to be held in one of the suburbs in deliberate defiance of law
and order. The sisters are pained and anxious. The good cause cannot
be furthered by unseemly rioting. Even M6re Placide, the most militant
amongst them, in spite of a certain curiosity to learn the issue, main-
tains an air of grave disapproval. She discusses the matter in all its
bearings with her usual astonishing shrewdness and good sense, but
with an underlying strain of sadness. When she turns to go there
is a touch of tragic dignity in her attitude. ' We will ask you to pray
for us this afternoon, mesdames,' she says, ^ that our buildings are
not taken from us, that we are not thrust out homeless like so many
others.' Notre Dame de Bon Secours is a missionary order, and it is
probable that the very active work done by the large community in
many parts of the world may be its safeguard from the ever-encroach-
ing demands of the State. But the Government changes so often,
and in France there can at present be little security in the Church,
and especially in those religious orders associated by the closest
ties with Rome. In any case it is no hard matter for the most
Protestant mind to pray for the peace and continuance of a
home outside the moral shelter of which these good women would
find it difficult indeed to place themselves, and the promise is
gladly given.
The procession of the Saint Sacrement is to take place before
the service of the Salut which is to be held in the garden and after
Vespers have been sung in the chapel.
During the long bright morning — ^which would be so hot in the
streets of Paris, but here it is so infinitely cool and shady — ^the last
touches are being put to the improvised altar before the statue of the
Virgin at the end of the principal dUie. The fine linen cloth with which it
is covered is edged with priceless lace, one of the treasures of the con-
vent. IMnust be owned that there is a touching simplicity in some of the
adornments employed by the novices, notable amongst these being a
variety of paper frills, obviously offered by the kitchen. But the whole
effect is sweet and reverent, and there are flowers everywhere. This
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760 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY ifov.
time, for the glory of Qod, Joseph is allowed to work his will on the rose
bushes, and in the altar vases are tall white lilies with which the air
is fragrant. The very garden seems to have put forth its best strength
for the Fke Dieu. Sweet peas, stocks, lupins, make a brave show ; all
the old-fashioned country flowers flourish happQy under Joseph's
ministration here in the heart of Paris.
The ladies of La Solitude would also give their offering to deck
the altar. Mdre Pladde is doubtful : a superabundance of anything
is always distasteful to her well-balanced mind. ^ Eh Men I ' she
says at length, relenting, ' if oe$ dames wish it ; but they must not be
many, just a simple nosegay/
So in the early hours of the hot afternoon a deputation of oes
damee makes its way into the little street behind the convent wall
The Rue de N might, so unsophisticated are its ways and so
local its interests, belong to any small provincial town. The Convent
of Notre Dame de Bon Secours occupies the foremost place in its
mental as well as in its physical environment. Have not all the
children out of those little shops been educated under the care of the
good sisters for at least a space of their short lives ? The interest
expressed in the health and movements of the reUgieueee Id-haut is
intense. To-day Mdre Tissaud, seated at her window set in the wall
behind her pile of newspapers, smiles at the ladies as they come a
little uncertainly down the street in quest of a flower shop. They are
from La Solitude. M^ Tissaud, who sees everything from her post
of observation, knows them quite well. More than once she has sold
them a Petit Pairisien. It is well, she considers, that a newspaper
should go ioto the convent, even if the sisters do not read it. To-day
as they pass she nods genially under her white cap. They pause
a moment, to ask if there is news of the threatened processicm in the
suburb. The old woman shrugs her shoulders scornfully. ^ Cid^ no ;
the people have too much sense ; it was a canard ; the good sisters
must not be so easily frightened ; but, after all, in such a life it was
natural,' and she sinks into silent contemplation of her own superior
knowledge of the world. ' A flower shop did the ladies want ? ' and
Mdre Tissaud rouses herself in answer to a fresh query. ' To be
sure, there is her friend Madame Brie across the street : she will be
delighted to serve them/ and she points with a knitting-pin to
a little shop of peculiarly unostentatious appearance. Indc^dd, it is
necessary to enter to discover the flowers at all, for the window is
empty.
In the dark little interior, however, ia one magnificent bouquet
of field flowers. Blue cornflowers, scarlet poppies, clover, grasses,
all just as they have grown together in the field, tied loosely with
little attempt at arrangement. The ladies exclaim with pleasure : hne
is an offeriog unique in its freshness and charm, and which would not
compete with the riches of the convent garden. Madame Brie ex-
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1906 DATS IN A PABI8 CONVENT 751
plains that such a bouquet was ordered by an artist for his fke to-day,
and there being so many flowers over she has made a second. When
she hears it is for the dames de Bon Secours, she awakes at once
to interest and pleasure. Ah, nothing is too good for the sisters ;
indeed one is doubtful whether wild flowers are good enough. Had
not her Jeanne been educated by them, and was not the little one
going to walk in the procession ? She shakes her head sadly. Times
were different now, but the child would never forget them. And then
Jeanne is summoned from the back of the shop and directed to carry
the flowers for the ladies to her beloved convent. The ladies them-
selves are forcibly laden with roses and lilies and, followed by their
small companion, present themselves before Mdre Placide, who handles
the field flowers with particular and touching pleasure. It is not
often that the country is brought actually within the walls of the
convent, and the ladies have chosen well.
At four o'clock aU the doors and windows and shutters of La
Solitude are carefully closed. It is difficult, in face of the great wall
behind the elm trees, to imagine the possibility of marauders other
than cats ; but caution is one of the rules of life in a convent, and for
the next hour or so this little comer will be entirely unprotected even
by the faithful Joseph.
The chapel looks larger and lighter in the June sunshine than it
did on those chilly March days when the philanthropic ladies met
here. The light streams in through the clear glass windows on either
side of the nave. Here also the air is heavy with the scent of lilies.
Every available seat not occupied by the community is thronged
with former pupils and their parents, for this is a great day in the
neighbourhood, and the elders as well as the children love an oppor-
tunity of coming again to the convent. An old Monseigneur deeply
venerated by the sisters has come to conduct the service, and the red
of his vestments adds a touch of colour to the sombre mass of black
habits in the building. Down below M^re Placide is busy collecting
the banners and the pretty little girls in their white frocks and veils
whom she has chosen to carry them.
The chapel of Notre Dame de Bon Secours has always been noted
for its music. Here Gounod used to come Sunday after Sunday to
worship with the sisters, and often to listen to his own compositions
sung by the black-robed choir. Now the voices rise and fall in the
unison commanded by Pius X., which the sisters themselves, with all
respectful submission to the Holy Father, are inclined to think has a
little interfered with the beauty of their music. But to some hearing
it brings an admirable efiect of simple devotion, swept and garnished of
any suggestion of the opera house or the concert room. There are
some fine voices in the choir, and the sister presiding at the organ
is a true musician. The Latin words of Bach's beautiful hymn ' Oh
Heart ever joyful ' seem to rise in waves of true faith and joyousness
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762 TEE NINETEENTH CENTURY Nov.
from the very hearts of the smgers, solemnly acoentaated by intervals
of silent prayer between the verses. The office closes with that petition
to the Virgin to help those who are in trouble, and to intercede jfo
devoio feminino sexu, which must have a peculiar significance in a
French convent at the present day.
Slowly the Host, borne aloft under the gold and white canopy,
passes through the kneeling congregation, who rise and follow in oom-
plete silence down the wide stone staircase and out into the sunlit
garden. At the foot of the stairs the procession is joined by M^re
Placide's little girls with their banners and baskets of roses, and to
the chanting of the Ave Verum the whole moves under the flickering
shade of the chestnut trees to the altar at the far end of the avenue.
Here the Sdut of the Saint Sacrement is sung to a congregation kneeling
reverently on the gravel path, the sweet female voices rising on the
still, warm air, the silver bell ringing when the Host is elevated, and
the fumes of the incense mingling with, and for a time almost over-
powering, the strong scent of the lilies.
Tantnm ergo Saoramenttim
Yeneremnr oemm.
The light falls softly on the black habits of the nuns or the bent
heads of the people. The mere simplicity of the scene is impressive.
Surely the expression of the Catholic faith is heard here in all its
primitive sincerity
Laadate Dominmn, omnes gentes ; laudate eum, omnes popuH.
The congregation rises to its feet with the triumphant burst of
Gk)unod's music. A blackbird in the chestnut tree above the altar
sings with all his might, determined to make himself heard in this
hymn of praise to the Creator of all. And why should he not?
Certainly the good sisters would not wish to exclude him from their
song of thanksgiving.
Slowly the procession forms again, and the people fall once m<»re
on their knees as the Host is borne past them beneath the rich canopy.
Joseph's little children, mites in dean pinafores, steal up from amongst
the stragglers in the rear and gaze wide-eyed at the acolytes and
their swinging censers, until the parental hand forces them gently
into a seemly attitude of devotion. One old grandfather, too old
to kneel, leans heavily on his stick, the sun shining on his bared silvery
head, and crosses himself devoutly with a shaking hand as the Saint
Sacrement passes. To the onlookers there is something of a beautiful
anachronism in this mediseval scene in the heart of twentieth-century
Paris. The little white-robed children, scattering their red rose
leaves, emblems of the Passion, in the path of the Bon Dieu, instinc-
tively recall the angels of Buonfigli on the walls of the Perugian gallery,
with their sweet tear-laden eyes, their wreathed heads, and their
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baskets of roses. But the eyes of these small Parisian maidens, solemn
though they are for the moment, are freer from tears than those of
dome of their elders. As the procession of the Saint Sacrement winds
slowly away nnder the trees, the choir singing the Ave Maria, the
bright patch of colour made by the priestly vestments thrown up
in strong relief against the mass of black habits and white coifs of the
nims, more than one who follows it has le ccsur gros. The pathos
of the scene cannot fail to touch the least thoughtful of those present,
and it has needed no promise to M^re Placide to inspire a prayer for
the future safety and wellbeing of the convent.
It is impossible not to wonder whether the June sun will shine
upon such another procession within these walls again. In any case,
for those who have been privileged to join in it, this afternoon's cere-
mony will be stored amongst life's most fragrant memories; and
there are many who will never smell the scent of crushed rose-leaves,
or see the golden light falling across a bed of tall white lilies, without
thinking of the Fete Dieu in the Paris garden.
Mdre Placide, coming into the dining-room of La Solitude an hour
later, has little to say. Her heart is probably full of love and regret
for her children, but, if her air of repose is to be trusted, of confidence,
rather than of fear, in the future. Everybody is a little touched and
subdued. Even the birds have ceased to sing, and a cahn which is
full of sweetness broods over the convent.
Presently, however, when the dames penaionnaires are sitting
under the trees outside the little house, the tension is very sensibly
relieved by the sounds of genuine play and merriment coming from
the larger garden. ' It is the novices,' says one of the ladies, who
knows the convent well : ^ they are still keeping their feteJ* It is not
good manners to invade the garden at this hour, but by peeping
through the privet hedge it is possible to see that it is indeed the
novices, and they are playing a modified form of the jeu de paume.
Immaculately neat as they manage to remain, the exercise has brought
a flush to their cheeks and a brightness to their eyes. Shouts of
laughter and cheery expostulations rouse the echoes of the darkening
alUes. Here there is no lack of healthy animal spirits, a little be-
wildering perhaps to the minds of those to whom the convent walls
suggest mere suppression. Certainly they are old, these novices, to
to be playing bdl like young schoolgirls. But what would you ? as
the Mire Econome would say. Nature will out, and the good sisters
like to see them happy. The game does not last long, however. The
great dock strikes nine ; Mdre Placide comes slowly across the garden
in the gathering dusk. Complete silence has abeady fallen upon
the girls, who have grou|>ed themselves with unconscious effect : a
study in black and white against the grey statue of the Virgin where
the altar stood a few short hours before. The evening hymn rises
softly in the pure girlish voices. The watcher behind the privet hedge
Vol. LVIU— No. 345 3 D
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754 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Nov.
tries to oatoh the words, but little more than the refrain of each vene
is audible :
Je vooB remeroie, Seigneur ;
Meroi, meroi, mon Dieo.
Sorely the good Gkxl still walks in His garden in the oool of the
evening, and may accept this simple hymn of thanksgiving for a happy
holiday and for the ^ of His smishine on the blessed fSte of the
Saint Saorement.
BosB M. Bradlht.
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1905
THE GAELIC LEAGUE
I BBMBHBER in the 'sixties a very clever drawing in VuiMihy represent-
ing two navvies of the best John Bull type, one of whom says to the
ot^er : ' 'Ullo, Bill, 'ere's a stranger. Let's 'eave 'alf a brick at 'im»'
Though nearly half a century of School Boards and other progressive
devices have elapsed since that skit was published, I am afraid the
Anglo-Saxon frame of mind towards the stranger has not been
modified : its first instinct is still to ' 'eave that 'alf brick.'
At least, so only can I account for the extraordinary remarks I
have read and heard concerning the Gaelic League, coupled with the
confession from all to whom I have talked about it, that they know
'nothing of it at first hand. It does not seem to have occurred to any-
one that information gathered solely from the ephemeral daily Press
must be not only biassed by the party purpose which each paper
avowedly (and rightly) professes; but, being necessarily hurried,
has not and does not pretend to have more than the value of hearsay
knowledge. To condemn an association on such evidence alone is
unworthy of the British ideal of fair play.
The heads of, and active agents in, the Qaelio League have their
work cut out for them ; and must, like all enthusiasts, concentrate
their minds and their energies on pursuing and carrying out the great
ends they aim at. They cannot spare time to repudiate or knock
down the targets set up by an unsympathetic world as representing
their goal. It therefore behoves minor members — such a one as I
am, for instance — ^to step into the breach and defend the League's
good name on this side of the Channel by explaining its position, its
motives, and its aims.
It is unfortunate that the two words, Gaelic and League, should*
in connection with Ireland, both be more or less anathema to the
ordinary Englishman. ' League ' to him recalls nothing but the Land
League with its reign of terror and disloyalty, which the methods of
to-day's United Irish League do not tend to dispel ; while nine people
out of ten only know the word * Gael ' as the chief part of Clan-na-Oaely
and base on that proverbially Uttle knowledge the conclusion that
it must have soniething to do with Fenianism. I want to convince
the English public that it has nothing to do with either.
The GaeUc League was founded twelve years ago in Dublin. On
755 3 D 2
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766 THE NINETEENTH CENTUB7 Nov.
the Slst of July, 1893, seven literary and thonghtfol men elected
Dr. Douglas Hyde and flir. John MacNeill respectively President and
Yioe-President of this new body they were founding : to-day, instead
of presiding over five fellow-thinkers, these same two men preside
over a gathering of delegates representing some eight hnndred and fifty
branches, each branch consisting of a minimnm of fifteen members,
and many of course of far more.
Those seven men were patriots in the tme sense of the word.
They had no axes to grind, or careers to make ; and used their time
and their brains studying the condition of things around them from
the impartial standpoint of the looker-on. They beheld a countiy
cut in half by that most terrible of gulb : religious difference — a
gulf made the worse by the great bulk of the working classes being
on one side thereof, and the majority of the leisured and moneyed
classes on the other. Through circumstances that I need not touch
on here, the gulf has been steadily widened and deepened by both
sides during the last thirty years ; most of all by those who were
labouring under the delusion that they were doing their best to fill it.
Coercion and conciliation, repression and encouragement alternately,
even sometimes simultaneously, applied, alike widened the breach;
and day by day things grew more and more hopeless. Land laws,
remedying the injustices committed by the grandfathers at the expense
of the grandsons, were driving landowners out of the country. Con-
sequent lack of employment, above all the utter absence of anything
to relieve the deadly dulness of existence in a country where no one
spent any money save on the bare necessaries of life, combined to
double the tide of emigration : the life-blood of the country was
being drained away from above and from below. Where was the
remedy for so fatal a condition of affairs to be found ?
As the ^ce-President of the Gaelic League said in an address
at the delivery of which I was present some months ago, for dght
hundred years or so England has tried, mostly honestly, to make
Lreland happy and prosperous. With what result ? A country seeth-
ing in parts with revolution ; not a square mile of territory in whidi
there is a contented population !
The seven men in Dublin set themselves to discover the cause of
so stupendous and apparently imaccountable a fadlure — to find an
answer to the question : Why does the rule that has made Great
Britain the leading spirit of civilisation, the example of freedom and
order and good government to the nations of the world, turn Ireland
into a chaos in which the biggest reputations plunge only to be wrecked !
The answer is so simple that, like all simple things, it has been over-
looked for years by all the earnest and clever minds who would imagine
that a compUcated cause must exist for so comphcated and mysterious
a result. The Gaelic League hit on that simple answer— the Anglo-
Saxon is cast in one mould and the Gael in another.
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If in the physical world it be true that one man's meat may be
another man's poison, it is at least as true in the moral and intellec-
tual world. The point of view modifies ideas, actions, results.. To
the Anglo-Saxon the only thing of real consequence is obedience to the
law, the law human and divine as laid down by his teachers and approved
by his conscience, be it called faith, or government, or tradition, or
form, or any of the names by which the ordinary Englishman regulates
his conduct. It is to him a material and tangible thing, his shield and
his armour in whatever walk of life he may move and have his being.
I could not love thee, dear, so much,
Loved I not honour more.
The Gktel is a creature of imagination. The tangible is of no
importance to him as compared with the intangible. To him law,
order, mean nothing; emotion, feeling, passion everything. He is
the very incarnation of * All for love and the world well lost.* Whether
it be the love of a person or a creed or a place or an ideal, whatever
it is that has awakened the fire in his soul, to that he will cling through
good repute and bad, success or misfortune, regardless of consequence,
regardless of reason, regardless of everything save his whole-hearted
devotion.
I know not, I care not, if guilt*s in that heart ;
I but know that I love thee, whatever thou art.
Take the example of an Englishman and an Irishman of the same
class and age going away to the other side of the world to make their
fortunes. Suppose them both equaUy successful. The Englishman
—-retaining all his pride of birth, all his never-to-be-shaken beUef that
there is nothing in creation quite so fine as Great Britain, talking of
England as Home with a big H^will become part and parcel of
America or the Colonies as the case may be, and never so much as
dream of deserting the new land that has made him the success he
is, the perfect colonist. The Irishman, who speaks of Ireland as the
* distressful country,' who has no words bad enough for her cUmate,
her laws, her government, her poUticians or her landowners (accord-
ing to his class antecedents), will never be content till he can make
his real home on the soil on which he was bom ; and to the last, like
Jacob, prays that his bones may rest there.
And here, though that is really another story, I should Uke to
point a moral to those good folk who, clamouring for female suffrage,
declare that woman has no power and can have no power until she
achieves the right to vote. It is to woman that Ireland owes the
permanence and the increase of the cleavage between the two sections
of her population. For look back on her history, from the days, at
any rate, of the EUzabethan settlement, to our own time. Elizabeth,
Cromwell, WiUiam of Orange, planted their most trusty followers on
this ever-to-be yet never conquered country ; gave them estates and
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honMs» and moooMfally itiduo^d them to settle. During their lives
all went fairly well ; but after their deaths what happened ! The
* English garrison' married the women ihej found native of tiie
soil, and in one generation sometimes, alwa3r8 in two, these sons of
GhteUo mothen had renounoed their fathers' raoe and their fathers'
creed, retaining only their names to distract philologists of a later age.
Murphy, SuUivan, Tobin are names as Anglo-Saxon as Smith, Brown,
or Robinson, and as little indigenous to the soil as FitsQerald, or
firench, or Desmond.
But whereas the rank and file of the garrison perforce mated with
the bright-eyed colleens they dwelt among, what may be termed the
officers, and not only they, but the native aristocracy as well,
able and in a sense obUged to spend at least part of their lives
elsewhere, mostiy took their wives from England, where the greater
social development had given those adventitious aids which, say poets
what they will, do bear the palm from Beauty unadorned ; and these
English mothers in their turn Anglicised their children. Hence, while
the upper classes in Ireland tended generation by generation to assi-
milate more and more to England, the lower classes, in spite of three
powerful inoculations, remained immovably QaeUc.
The seven men in DubUn, then, were the first to recognise that
the two natures, the English and the Irish, being fundamentally differ-
ent, must be tackled in different ways to achieve the same result.
The GaeUc imagination must be stirred before the Oaelic mind could
be put in motion. It had been proved useless to ti^ to either tiireaten or
cajole or bribe Ireland into prosperity. Neither was she a homogeneous
whole ; and a house divided against itself is proverbially hopeless.
The solution to be sought, therefore, was a common platform on which
Roman Catholic and Protestant, Nationalist and Unionist, ultimately
Englishman and Irishman, could work together for the common weal ;
and tiiree men, in their very persons representative of tiiese different
lines of thought — ^Dr. Douglas Hyde, scholar and Protestant, John
MacNeill, Roman Catholic and native of the glens of Antrim in the hi
North, and Father O'Qrowney, a devoted priest in Munster— invented
the Gaelio League as the inspired tool for their purpose. The GaeUc
League should devote itself to the revival of the language once spoken
over all Ireland ' from the centre to the sea ' ; the language in which
St. Patrick blessed Erin from the purple mountain summits in misty
Connemara ; and in which St. Columba was trained before he went
forth from the glens to teach religion and learning to the barbarians
of the Eastern Isles. The recollection of such facts must be wdl
calculated to stir dormant energies, and awaken thoughts and aspira-
tions long hidden or forgotten.
It was frightfully uphill work in a coimtry that for some two hundred
years had had no interests outside bu^tion fighting under one form
or another, and to whom nothing seemed of any importanoe except
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1906 THE GAELIC LEAGUE 739
pditios. But the namo ' Gaelic/ aasooiated with an idealised if
almost unknown past, proved indeed one to conjure with ; and Dr.
Hyde and his colleagues had not mistaken the chord responsive on
which to base their diapason. Now, after twelve years of strenuous
endeavour, the League of once barely a dozen members numbers its
adherents by the thousands and its branches by the hundreds. Its first
object is to get its followers away from the barren and endless wrangle
over politics into avenues leading to more fruitful fields of labour.
Yet it is difficult in Ireland and apparently impossible in England to
make people understand that it has not and does not want to Jkom
anything to do with politics. By its constitution it is precluded from
asking any questions as to its members' creed, reUgious or political ;
it only demands of them a genuine love of their country and a whole*
hearted devotion to the League's two objects : the revival of the
GraeUc language as a spoken tongue, with a re-creation, as its natural
consequence, of Gaelic arts, crafts, and industries ; and the encourage-
ment of GaeUc music, dances and games, instead of the feeble imitations
of English wares that now take their place. Has anyone heard of a
great Irish composer during the last century or two ? Are not Moore's
Melodies — ^the one bit of his work that is immortal — founded on the
old GkeUc airs, those curious harmonies in minor keys so distinctive of
QaeUc music, which has a scale and intervals absolutely different from
any other ?
In the realm of games, too, has there ever been such a thing as a
really strong Irish cricket team ? Even the Na-Shula — ^the Irish
version of I Zingari — have never been on a level with the very best
county team; and an Irish professional is unknown — at least in
Ireland. But hockey and hurling — especially hurling — have been
Gaelic games from times immemorial; hence the immense success
that has attended their revival. They answer to something in the
native spirit, the other does not. Therefore, also, the Gaelic League
has unhesitatingly given its patronage and its prizes, when desired,
to the sports at which these games were encouraged, even when held
under the auspices of what is known as the G. A. A., t.e. the GaeUc
Athletic Association, that avowedly political and anti-English organ*
isation. For the GaeUc League is what it professes to be, non-poUtical
and non-secta/rian ; and does not say, Uke the Total Abstainer who
started a club that was to be open to all and sundry who could pay
and behave themselves, and where there were to be no restrictions or
conditions as to drinks : ^ only I shan't let in anyone who has not
taken the pledge.' Or, Uke Lord Dunraven's so-called non-pohtical
Beform Association : ' none but Unionists admitted here.' It intends
to support hockey and hurling and all manly and innocent sports, by
whomsoever organised, provided they are organised for genuine play,
and not as a disguise for political meetings.
The League's primary object, as I have said^ is the revival of the
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spoken tongue of Gaelic ; becanse it is oonvinoed that oat of that will
spnng as a matter of neoe68it7 arts and crafts original and character-
istic, and indigenous industries that will stand on their own feet
without the bolstering of alien touting, or patronage however exalted.
To teach teachers how to teach a language tiiat for nearly a hundred
Tears had ceased to be spoken in two-thirds of Ireland, has needed
an immense amount of energy and perseverance. But the League
is beginning to reap its reward. In most towns and in many villages
centres have been established for the study and practice of Gaelic.
The * Castle,' as foreseen by the founders of the League, has given the
necessary filUp. It has clamoured against it, and thereby given tiie
Irishman — ^that bom rebel against established order, since he has been
taught for generations to connect it with an ' alien despotism * — tiie
initial incentive for taking it up. The rest has followed as a matter
of course.
Not only have the National Schools in many places taken up
the study of GaeUc, but without help from outside sources industnes
have begun to spring up. Discovering where his country once stood,
the Irishman is awakening to the possibiUty of standing there again.
And here Ulster, the only half -Irish, sees openings that appeal to her
special point of view, which approximates so much more to the English
than to the Gaelic. The common platform has been found, and
imagination and practical sense can work together without friction
towards aims equally dear to both, while the worker can still go each
his own way outside the League, without detriment to himself or to it.
Only — and that is one of the great things the League will have achieved
— its members wiU have learnt by personal experience that religion
is a man's private afEair, of vital importance to himself, but no manner
of concern to anyone else ; and that poUtics, or the making and un-
making of laws, are a featherweight in the balance of what works
for welfare and prosperity as compared with the things that can be
achieved in other directions by individuals striving with unity and
determination for the benefit of their country.
That Dublin Castie, Uke all bureaucratic institutions, terrified at
anything outside its own redtape-bound routine, should have blindly
and unquestioningly opposed the League, was natural and to be
expected. But if the explanation of the Imperial Treasury's action in
withdrawing its fees from teachers of Gaelic is really as set forth in
the Titnes of the 26th of September, 1906, how is such action to be
characterised ? In this age, when the Education Rate has risen by
leaps and bounds, and the harassed and impoverished ratepayer who
would reduce it is promptly suppressed as mediaeval and unpatriotic,
the Empire's purseholders announce that, because a certain study has
been ts^en up with enthusiasm, therefore they will withdraw their
support : in other words, they will only grant fees when quite sure
that few or none will come forward to claim them! Surely such
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1906 THE GAELIC LEAGUE 761
leasoning needs only to be seen in the light of day to be laughed into
the Umbo of things one would rather have left unsaid.
People have asked me what is the use of learning a language
admittedly nearing the verge of death ? I can mention at least half a
dozen good and practical uses :
(1) It is an interesting, a primary language ; it has a fine Utera-,
ture ; it is as good an intellectual exercise as Greek or Latin.
(2) It appeals as an intellectual occupation to a class of persons
who would as soon try to master the classical languages as to fly.
(3) It appeals as a pastime to many to whom, for practical purposes,
French or Qerman would be quite as useless.
(4) It utilises the energies and aspirations awakened by the nation-
alist movement for purposes which breed neither sedition nor agitation,
but produce results as ardently desired by England as by Ireland.
(6) It fosters self-confidence and self-reUance by proving to the
Irishman that he has something of his very own to be proud of, that
owes nothing, but has given much, to other countries.
(6) It gives to the ordinary working man, to that enormous dass
which, for good or evil, has now in its hands the ultimate destiny of
nations, an interest and an occupation which keep him away from the
shebeen where iUicit whisky at a penny a glass steals away his brains,
and ignorant poUticians with the best intentions mislead his confidence
and encourage the laziness engendered of an enervating cUmate,a plea-
sureless existence, and a perpetual promise of help from the outside.
The argument, which I have heard educated and otherwise quite
sane folk adduce, that allowing GaeUc to be taught was to provide
the people with a means of conspiracy, is too childish to be seriously
met. One did not know whether, in reply, to ask if ignorance of
GaeUc had hitherto prevented conspiracy ; or to inquire, if GaeUc
could be so easily learnt by the uncultured classes, to whom the other
remark appUed, whether the cultured classes could not, in colloquial
parlance, ' dish ' that result by learning it too ?
A more weighty hue of reasoning is that, for the last hundred
years, everything has been done to bring about amalgamation between
the two peoples, and that a separate language must make for separation
and not amalgamation. That, of course, is true. But then, are
the two nations, after a hundred and four years of nominal union,
any nearer fusion Ihan before the fusion was attempted ? Is not the
breach wider now than it ever was ? Can you * amalgamate ' oil and
vin^ar ? What is the use of persevering in trying to fuse elements
that decline to be fused ? Why not try to combine them instead, so
that, while each retains its own individuaUty, the quaUties of one
should correct the defects of the other, and thus together make a
perfect and harmonious whole ? Why not try the effect of encouraging
the development of Ireland on Irish Unes, since trying to effect that
development along English lines has proved so dismal a failure ?
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762 THB NINETEENTH CENTURY Nov.
Above ally let the gentry of Ireland^ the men and women iriio
should have the beat qoalitiea, vvith the beat blood, of both nations
in their veins, try to understand those among whom their lot is cast,
instead of turning away from everything that does not belong to the
Predominant Partner. Instead of taking it for granted that nothing
can be true or loyal save what oomes from England, let them try
whether truth and loyalty are not as inherent in things GraeUo as
in things Anglo*Saxon. That very Graelic Athletic Association—
which an innocent correspondent of the Times the other day imagined
to be a branch of the Qaelic League — ^was originally a hannlees foot-
ball organisation. But the gentry cared nothing about the ordinary
amusements of working people ; only the politicians, to whom their
support was vital, gauged the immense power of an organisation
with branches all over the country for purposes no one could reason-
ably interfere with. They worked heart and soul for its welfare,
and having perfected it as an instrument, promptly annexed it and
turned it into an almost unrivalled poUtical tool. The Gtaelio League
veiU, so long as it remains in the hands that guide it now, assuredly
be what it professes to be : an organisation for the revival of all tiiat
is best and finest and most useful inteUectuaUy, artistically and
commercially, in the (JaeUc spirit* But its leaders are only human.
Death must step in one day ; and if the loyaUsts of Ireland are too
ignorant to fill the Vacant places, while the disloyal have learnt and
appreciated the power that lies in a truly national spirit roused to
a sense of its own capabilities, who will be to blame for the conse-
quences if the latter can and do fill them %
The meetings of the Gaelic League are open to all ; most of its
pamphlets can be bought at its publishing offices, 24 Upper O'Gonndl
Street, Dublin, for the vast sum of one penny each ; anyone who chooses
can prove for himself the truth of all the things I have asserted here.
Whoever has stood, as I did last June, at a gathering under the
auspices of the GaeUc League in a county that for years has been
more dead than aUve, where some four thousand men and women
had come together in friendly rivalry to compete for prizes in reciting,
singing, violin-playing, dancing, lace-making, wood-carving, sewing,
baking, honey-making, even washing ; had spent, as I did, twelve
hours among that crowd, hearing nothing but good-humoured talk,
laughter and applause ; no drunkenness, no quarrelling, nothing but
simple enjojrment and the wish to enjoy, from midday till nearly mid-
night, when we broke up after an exhilarating variety concert mostly
recruited from native talent, at the close of a day unmarred by any
hitch, and in which not a word connected with poUtics had been
spoken, would beUeve, must believe as I do — ^that the regeneration of
Ireland Ues with the Qaelic League ; and wish it, as I do, Qod speed.
Ellbn Dssabt.
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THE STOCK-SIZE OF SUCCESS
LttST it be thought, because I am writing onoe more anent the drama
in England, that I preach either a crusade or a creed, let me hasten to
explain that, although the high-road to success will always lie along
the lines of a new gospel, it is no part of my programme to encroach
on the prerogatives of the pulpit oi the platform.
I have no desire to collect statistics or to publish a handbook
to British taste, any more than I aspire to provide parochial Utera-
ture for the Orthodox or Sunday reading for the Dissenter. Mine is
merely the attitude of the player who, while waiting her turn to
* go on,' peers through the joins of the scenery, and has leisure to ob-
serve the sharp outlines of the stage pictures, the extravagant pro-
portions of some, the weak drawing of others, and the curious want
of perspective in many — ^traits that I will endeavour to record here
rather with the amusement of the philosopher than with the sarcasm
of the critic.
Moreover, it is my purpose to press into a given shape and space
some herbs and sprigs of observation gathered along the upland
paths of daily existence, or at the foot of those mountains that look
so alluring and yet so formidable in pursuit of any and every pro-
fession, and that we climb laboriously or spring up light-heartedly —
according to our various energies — mountain peaks that when scaled
resolve themselves into such very little hilltops by comparison with
those ranges we have yet to chmb.
Perhaps in no other area of enterprise do the mountains he, range
upon range, so closely, so endlessly, as in Theatreland, and perhaps
in no other is the ascent so rapid and the descent so facile. In the
dramatic profession the actor can never pause to draw breatii and
look down on the road behind him with the assurance of ^ pains past.'
Every appearance in a fresh part, every departure on unfaniiliar lines,
entails the conquest of a new country. The actor's work is never
done. He cannot rely on the reputation of his firm to attract
customers. He cannot establish his credit and then leave it to an
army of competent clerks to carry on tiie work. He cannot, as the
sculptor or painter of old, surround himself with a host of enthusi-
astic students, ready and willing to elaborate the conception of the
768
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master. Each leaf in the crown of laurels that the actor wears round
his brow is paid for with tiie sweat of it, paid for night after night,
again and again. If to-day he allows himself the relaxation of his
vitality because the mnsdes are weary or the brain exhausted, to-
morrow his reputation will diminish.
The painter, the sculptor, the musician, the writer may, like the
chemist in his laboratory, work in secrecy and in silence, never giving
the fruits of his labour to the public until the experiment has been
perfected ; but the actor cannot test the merit of his invention save
by the ordeal of publicity. He alone of all artists must attempt to
scale the heights of public favour in full view of the spectators, laughed
at if, with uncertain feet, he jumps short of the precipice of ridicule,
and left to perish of starvation and neglect where he lies below, wounded
in his energies and his ambitions.
This edelweiss that we actors wear in our bonnets — white emblem
of artistic intention we have risked our all to attain, valuable only
because it carries the memory of patient effort — ^how small a trophy
of the pendstence and courage it has cost us ! For no success has
ever been constructed on the golden sands of prosperity. Success, to
be real, to survive the test of time and its ravages, must be hewn from
the granite of failure. It must be carved out of man's capability to
utilise the rough, hard rooks of despair for a solid foundation on which
to erect l^e walls and piers of a lasting edifice.
That the granite is cemented with the heart's-blood of the indi-
vidual, that there are thousands maimed and crushed in the struggle
for bare existence, it is none of Nature's business to take into account ;
hers alone the inexorable demand of labour, at whatever cost to her
children in the mere effort to survive. And in England this struggle
for breath, this desperate fight against submersion, is bitterer perhaps
than elsewhere, because mere technical thoroughness and good work-
manship do not necessarily command success in any trade or calling,
and the test of it cannot be gauged by the amount of marks that an
expert examiner would award to the competitor, but by the pecu-
liarity that strikes the public fancy. Here are no consolation prizes,
no medals for general excellence. The candidate for popular bivour
passes with all honours and emoluments, or — ^he fails to pass. It
follows, therefore, that the demarcation of exorbitant prosperity
and extreme poverty are here more clearly defined than in any other
country. It is this absence of half-tones in our social system and
this lack of gradation in the finer shades and gentler tints that paint
the pictures of our national life in the crude black oi sordid misery
or the naked white of insolent extravagance.
In a word, what is known in painting as the ' values * is here con-
spicuously absent.
In a picture, the ^ values ' mean the juxtaposition of one oolour
to another, the relative importance of light and shade, the power of
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1906 THE STOCK-SIZE OF SUCCESS 766
detail to interfere with the mass, and the subservience of certain
parts of the picture to the central point of interest. Then there is
the scheme of colour, the quaUty of execution, the breadth of con-
ception— all these enter into Walues' as understood by the artist
in his criticism of a composition.
Translate all this into music, substitute the word * tones' for
colours, * theme * for scheme, * quantity ' for quality, * symphony '
for sympathy, and we have the essence of the composer's art and the
* values ' of a musical creation.
And all this I mean when speaking of the ' values ' of the drama
in England.
In very many places an author having a defective instinct of
these ' values ' has not known what part of his story to place before
us and what to leave to our imagining. That the difficulties of con-
struction in a play are a hundredfold greater than those in a novel is
due not only to the restrictions of time and space, but also to the fact
that on the stage the story unfolded before us must in the first place
appeal to the eye and the ear before it reaches the brain. Narrative,
dissection of motive, analysis of purpose, description of locale, are
alike impossible in a drama. Atmosphere, personality, surround-
ings, appeal to the senses the very moment that the curtain goes up
on the picture, and the characters are, so to speak, convicted out of
their own mouths. A false colour, an inappropriate dress, an exag-
gerated * make-up,' may strike the sight with the wrong impression
before a word has been uttered. Again, the story of a lifetime or
the incident of a few hours must be compressed into the two or three
acts of a play, while a novelist may extend it to three volumes, taking
as many days to read as it takes hours to see the play enacted.
But even for the writer of fiction the old time-worn custom of
retailing what has been happening elsewhere simultaneously in another
chapter has almost died out. Such a sentence as 'While this was
going on Elvira was on her knees to her father, wringing her hands
in another part of the castle,' is as obviously old-fashioned nowadays
in a novel as a front scene would be in a play, yet we can accompany
the heroine of fiction upstairs or out of doors while she is forced to
remain before us on the stage. It is this limitation of scene — ^though
sometimes wanting only simple mechanical ingenuity, perhaps, to
surmount it — that often reveals the skilled engineer or betrays the
novice in his first attempt to elaborate an idea.
The pity of it is that so much truly original matter should be
lost to us by reason of this very want of technical <!tagecraft. Again
and again it is noticeable how infinitely more interesting is the scene
that is not taking place on the stage than that which is happening
before our eyes. How often I have wished that we had been per-
mitted to view the scene of which we are only allowed the recital !
Sometimes the curious lack of ' values ' brings into salient reUef
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tome aiudliAiy or supemmnemy that wm never meant to attraet
our attention. It is almost as though the author had wodced to
long at the elaboration ol his central figures that the outlines have
been smoothed away as the result of too muoh manipulation^ while
the rapid, vivid colouring of a personage hastily added to fill in the
background stands out instinct with the spontaneity of a quick
impression.
As a curious illustration of the dramatist's sense of proportion
I will give my own experience when I had the privily of playing
in Professor Gilbert Murray's venrion of The Trojan Woman of
Euripides.
The translator impressed on me that Helen of Troy in her attitude
towards Menelaus should be godlike in her serenity, as became the
daughter of Leda and Jupiter, who could not be judged by the stan-
dard of ordinary mortals ; and so it would appear in the reading of it.
Yet, no sooner does the curtain rise on the scene in which Helen,
magnificently airayed according to the text, confronts her husband,
than the conflict of sex leaps up. Short as is this scene, during the
whole of her forensic defence of herself the sexual battle is being fought^
illumining the whole stage, and is won by the woman. How strong
the instinct of the values here ! Had Euripides left Helen on the
scene one moment longer, the prophecies of Cassandra, the laments of
Andromache, the curses of Hecuba would all have been obliterated
by the * eternally feminine,' and forgotten.
Precisely because it is my purpose to analj^se, and not to criticise,
I must at this point speak on behalf and in defence of the modem
author. Too often the latter is obliged to ignore his knowledge of
values in the endeavour to fit some particular personaUty for whom
the play is destined; too frequently he must sacrifice the balance
of his play to render it saleable in certain markets. It is possible
that the accident of some small individual part jumping into sudden
prominence, to which I have aUuded, is occasionally due to the play-
wright's obligation to reduce what was once an important character
in the piece to the absorbing requirements of the management. Of
that I shall speak later, when I come to consider the romance
of egoism ; suffice it to say here that the playwright constructs plays
with a view to production by the manager, that the manager produces
these plays with the object of attracting the public, and that without
theatre or public there would be no plays. The author is, therefore,
moving painfully in a vicious circle from which there is no release.
Dramatists complain continually, and complain with right, that
managers dictate to them ; the plot must have a happy ending, virtue
must triumph, the hero must be incapable of evil, there must be
more laughter, it must send the audience away cheerfully; and,
nauseous as it is to relate, these are the managers who score one
success after another. The 'pap-shop' at which these plays are
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pioduoed is the theatre thlit has Beasonod the pap ' to taste/ as the
cookery-books have it. The manager who would succeed is the
man who has taken the stook-sise of the audienoe and cut his play
to it.
For the 'stook^sise' is the secret of all successful enterprise,
whether commercial, artistic or political Very evidently, in order
to suit the peculiar fancy of the individual rather than the broad
requirements of the general, a larger outlay of capital and labour is
necessary, and it does certainly not occur to the average man of busi-
ness that in order to enlarge his custom the unit must sometimes be
considered.
For many years a Bond Street firm of inflated reputation, and
still more inflated prices, had the honour of making my footgear for me.
For many months after the shoes had been sent home I contem-
plated them on my bootshelf with rapture, so glossy and bright were
they in their new splendour ; but I never essayed to wear them, for,
unUke the price of them, they were nol inflated.
For many weeks after I had ' taken them into wear ' my only satis-
faction was in their glittering appearance ; but as I limped or hopped
from foot to foot I made the reassuring reflection that when they
no longer shone I should at last know comfort, or such comfort as
the maimed and wounded may know in an easy bandage.
One day I summoned up courage to remonstrate with the head
of the firm. I argued that it would be better from the business point
of view to make my shoes wider in the soles, on the ground that I
should then walk out in them at once, and thus by a simple sum in
arithmetic it would mean the ordering of many more pairs per annum.
His answer to me was couched in the allegorical language of the
Bond Street tradesman. Boughly, it amounted to this : that I had
let my craving for ease ruin the shape of my foot, and that it was no
credit to their firm to supply customers with anything but what he
termed a ' neat shoe.' Reflecting on the agony that was compressed
into the hyperbole of that word ^ neat,' I took my lacerated vanity
and limbs to an American firm elsewhere. Here they cheerfully
assured me that I had a very smaU foot for my sise, but would recom-
mend greater width for beauty, and charged me one-fourth of the
Bond Street price of neatness. Take it to heart, 0 tradesmen of
England ! Here was a firm that fitted the shoe to the wearer instead
of the wearer to the shoe, and restored my amour-propre while they
saved my money.
Simple and homely as is this story, it has, to the patriot, the bitter-
ness of a moral, and to the actor the sadness of a parable — ^the parable
of the narrow shoe and the broad foot ; the parable of the wider aims
of the artist compressed into the limits of the public standard of
taste.
It is a tradition, and nothing but a tradition, that the Dnglish-
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man leeerves to himself the right of grombling ; yet no ooontryman
puts up with more neglect and inconvenience and grumbles less.
If he ask for one thing and get another, he carries it away with the
same placidity with which he aUows himself to be robbed by a municipal
authority or an income-tax collector — ^that is, without demur, alwajrs
provided that he carries away with him an article similar to one he
has bought before.
When foreigners caricature the English in their comic papers or
plays, they invariably depict us as ' eccentrics,' and yet in nothing
are we so cordial as in our detestation, first, of conspicuous eccen-
tricity, secondly, of surprises, within the family circle or without it.
If the individual desires to be a professed eccentric with perfect
immunity and comfort to himself he must begin as he means to go
on. Then he will be regarded with polite tolerance because it is
known to be ^ his little way.' On the other hand, a sudden outbreak
of originality, or an unexpected conversion to tenets not always
ours, is as odious to us as a change of programme in a politician,
even though it be framed to meet the pressing requirements of the
moment.
In manners the Rnglishman, because he has a great fear of ridi-
cule, prefers a hard-and-fast etiquette. In morals, because he has a
hoiror of disorder, he is glad of a stringent code to restrain him. In
art, because he is a little diffident of his own judgment, he wants
a definite criterion of taste. In whatever he undertakes, in which-
ever direction his bent lies, he likes a table of rules and regulations,
clearly defined, that he may know exactly how far he may go in
infringing them without being voted ungentlemanlike.
A German once made a pertinent remark to me when I spoke to
him of our social liberty in England, of the go-as-you-please tone of
our manners and customs without deference to our neighbours, of
the cordiality of intercourse without the vexing restrictions of how
or when.
^ Paradoxical as it may appear,' replied the (German, ^ your non-
chalance is bom of your absolute conventionality. Tou are never
in doubt how to behave, as we are; because you have a prescribed
formula for everything and everyone in business, in pleasure, or in
sport. The whole of society has luncheon and dinner at the same
hour, and you know that after eight you must be found in evening
dress, and you know when you call between three and six you must
call im Cylinder^ as we say. In (rermany we have no code of etiquette,
no hard-and-fast social laws ; therefore we waste much time in specu-
lating as to what will be acceptable to our neighbours, and much
energy in discussing the result, and the gossip or KlaUch about both
is a deplorable feature of our social life.'
Obviously, therefore, though we have the qualities of our defects,
there is another and darker side, and that is the artistic side. We
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know 80 well what is acceptable to our neighbours, we are so imbued
with the routine of their views, that we have not the courage to break
away from them, in terror of their contempt or disdain. Slow to
think, slower still to grasp a new idea, we are neither impressed by
the authoritative verdict of the expert nor moved by the agitation
of a masterful press. The pressure of years and the weight of accumu-
lating circumstances alone will at length induce the crowd to make way
for a new principle, alas ! grown old and antiquated in pattern by the
time it has been accepted.
From this rule there is, of course, one palpable exception — ^the
invention of a novel form of religion or creed ; but that opens up so
vast and different a subject that it cannot be dealt with here.
If anyone doubts the truth of this imperviousness to new idea,
let him note the energy that is being expended in the pubUc press in
waking this coimtry to its danger of invasion and the lamentably
small result in the activity of the nation. Who can fail to diagnose
the symptoms when, for aU answer to the trumpet-call of danger
soimded by the first soldier in the land, it turns over in its sleep and
yawns on the other side ? This is the lethargy of advancing age.
If it be the case that our patriotism cannot be roused, then how
far greater must be our somnolent indolence with regard to art.
James Whistler knocked vainly at the door of artistic imderstanding,
making enemies by his very disdain of it, until after his death, when
the symphonies of night and the harmonies of day that had once been
the scofE and gibe of every dealer leaped up in the mart of fashionable
favour by fifties and hundreds of pounds. Each picture as it mounts in
value passes from owner to owner, just as any ordinary mining share on
the Stock Exchange, not because there is more gold where that came
from, but because the hand which could invest the dirty river crawling
in our midst with the glamour of romance is cold and stiff and can
paint no more. Because Watts was a loved personality and a grand
figure it is the ilational custom to extol him as the greatest English
master ; but Watts, by the time the nation had realised his presence
among them, had ceased to be the great painter. His work that will
live as a lesson to schools of all ages was done before the 'eighties.
After that it was merely the work of a great mind driving a feeble
hand.
But the actor's case is desperate — ^more desperate still that of the
actress. Health and looks and spirits, the accompaniments of youth,
must go hand in hand with the privilege of age — experience. If we
have a lesson to teach, a method to popularise, a thought to indicate,
it must be done now or never. There is no time to wait until the
public have sufficient years for the comprehension of a new school.
Before audiences have rubbed their eyes and awakened to the genius
before them the voice that taught them to admire is silent, the song
of the singer hushed. The playwright, the poet may all Uve again, to
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rejoice another generation with th^ tale, bat the actor takes his
aims and ambitions with him to the grave.
Meanwhile the pubUc turn away impatiently: 'Oive ns what
we want or we will not come to you. We don't want that new-
fangled rubbish. We want to see what we saw last time we came
to your theatre. We want to read what we read last when we
bought your book. We want to sing what we heard at the ballad
concert.' And so on through every item of the programme of pubUc
amusements. The author who has written on vsxj given subject,
and has taken the fancy of his readers, is to exhaust himself on
that same subject until there comes a day when the phrase goes
round that he has nothing more to tell. The playwright who has put
his soul into his drama soon finds out that he has only to work on
the hues of his predecessor in the theatre to ensure a hearing. I wdl
remember how the author of one of the plays that has had the longest
run in these latter months acknowledged to me that while he wrote
^ himself ' he was not able to get a production, but when he wrote
* pattern ' he found he could dispose of more plays than he had time
to write.
The subordinate who fits into his ^aoe is a valuable servant, but
the employ^ who sees further than his employer is an awkward ^tor
to deal with. The old business methods were quite good enough
for the head of the firm ; the old machinery was quite equal to the
demand of the output ; unfamiliar ideas will mean a fresh start in
unexplored regions, in place of the comfortable jog-trot along the
old road ; it will mean greater e£Eort and shorter leisure, more labour
and lees golf or cricket. To a poUtical party a strenuous member may
signify loss of votes ; whereas a safe man, of whom you know accurately
what to expect, while he may not increase the majority, will at any
rate not expand the minority. In a Cabinet the man with no mind of
his own will not embarrass the (Government. In a regiment the soldier
without initiative will not compromise the commanding officer by his
impulsive action. The whole desire of the nation is for most result
witii least efEort. And the speediest method is not to fit each sepa-
rately, but to cut all requirements on the same pattern, leaving it to
the individual to pull and pin, cut and cUp, till the cloth is adjusted to
the wearer.
In speaking before on behalf of the aspirant to dramatic author-
ship, I pointed out the danger to his work of sacrificing its entity in
order to adapt it for the methods of the unit. I must, however, in
justice to my profession, represent how and why we are driven to these
necessities. Heartrending as it may be to the author, there is at
bottom of it more of common-sense than at first appears.
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THB BOMANOB OF B00I8M.
What spectator that has carefully and thoughtfully contemplated
our drama has not been struck with the superb omnipotence of the
hero or heroine ? Every detail has been subordinated to his personality,
every character sketched as a shadow by the side of the central figure,
until the effect is as the effect of those spirit photographs that present
to us a view of a robust personage strangely out of focus with the
spectral shadow of his ' influence ' hovering beside him. Now, exactly
as we are asked to believe that the chief sitter in the psychic photo-
graph is of sufficiently subUme importance to summon one or more
^ spirit guides ' to watch over him even during the harmless process
of posing for his portrait, so we are to imagine that the small hub of
the universe represented by the set of dramatis personcB before us is
revolving round the romantic egoism of our friend the hero.
To him nothing matters but his own emotions, his own deeds of
heroism, his own sins, his own repentances, and ultimately his own
eventual happiness, at the cost of his surroimdings.
In our experience of life we all know charming, clever women, long
past the age of fifty, whom men deUght to visit and chat with. But
on the stage, although our hero may be found occasionally capable of
the heroism of offering his arm to the oldest lady of the party, we
rarely find him taking a kindly interest in the aged, frequently as he
rescues the yoimg and beautiful. More seldom still do we hear him
speak, even humanly, to one of those elderly family servants that
character actors deUght to portray as far too decrepit to do their
work. Our hero is ruthless to women, ^ingrateful to his mistresses —
this latter trait, however, may be added by the author as a concession
to pubUc moraUty ; in real life we frequently observe that men are a
little afraid of the tempers and a Uttle cautious of the confidences of
the partners in their guilt — and his magnificent treatment of the
heroine is not so much because she is the girl he loves as that she is
the woman loved by him !
Not less remarkable is the tolerance of his irritating behaviour
by his friends and entourage. The most atrocious lapses of taste
are condoned by them in the playwright's necessity to carry on his
story; the strangest aberrations from common honesty, even from
oommon-sense, are cloaked and hushed up by the apparent fascination
that this king of romance exercises over the minds of his supporters —
a fascination that is in no way accounted for by the characteristics
he displays on most occasions, for, if he saves a situation, it is more
often than not through mere impudence; and if he conquers his
enemies, it must be admitted they are seldom foes worthy of his steel
and rarely offer anything but a feeble resistance.
At first sight it might appear that all this applies merely to melo-
drama, or to such variety of it as is masquerading in the costume of
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some picturesque period ; but aowheie is the soul-stiiring selfishness
of the leading character more powerfully felt than in the faurdcal
comedy of the Victorian era. Whether he is foimd rattling off lie
after he, or pattering excuses to extricate himself from an inconvenient
predicament, compromising others that he himself may escape, turning
to ridicule the only figure in the farce that commands our respect in
the person of his sober-minded wife — ^for matrimony would appear
to make the fun more fast and furious — indi£Eerent to the strain on
her health when she sits up for him at night, callous of her anxiety
when he returns not until the following morning, he is still as mag-
nificent an egoist as the conqueror of cape and sword drama !
What is chiefly remarkable in this wonderful world of make-believe
is this : however ludicrous and incongruous it aU sounds in the
recital, to the confessed playgoer it means the poetry of romance.
It is the custom to laugh at the actor who picks out for himself
all the plums of the play. Tet there is nothing more to laugh at
in that than to ridicule the Lord Mayor-elect for driving through the
City in a gilded coach, supported by lus aldermen. To catch the
popular imagination he bows to them from his golden chariot in scadet
and miniver, the mace of office borne by his side. To become a favourite
you must show yourself to your public clad in the insignia of the leading
man. Tou must have all the good things to say, all the good things
to do. I will not go so far as to suggest having all the limelight on
you, as that is never a becoming illumination to man or woman past
the age of twenty ; but you must attract and absorb the attention of
the audience in the theatre just as pompously as the Lord Mayor in
his progress through the streets of London, and it is no more vanity
in the former than in the latter ; it is merely the exigency of office,
and is nothing but business, hard business.
So much is it business that it is a matter for speculation whether
the romantic halo that surrounds some figures in history is not largely
due to this knowledge of stagecraft and its absorbing egoism.
The restless ego of the monarch who is determined to be autocrat
by the grace of his * ally, God Almighty,' stimulates a curiosity and
interest that his dutiful cousin of Italy, with his whole-hearted
devotion to his subjects' interests, has never been able to excite.
Henry the Eighth, who upset a national religion to satisfy a schem-
ing concubine in her ambition to possess her marriage-lines, who
murdered lus inconvenient wives, notably those with no foreign
armies at their back, is by his very magnificence of fiendish impulse
handed down to us as ' Blufi King Hal ' ; and his daughter Elizabeth,
worthy offspring of a Defender of the Faith and a Kentish adventuress,
comes to us as ^ Gkxxi Queen Bess ' for having decapitated a Roman
CathoUc queen. Both these monarchs pre-eminently understood ihe
technique of stage management.
What figure has cut deeper into the romance of the world's history
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than Napoleon the Fiist, with his sharpness of diction, his rapid
utterances, his pretence of unfailing memory, his displays of recogni-
tion, his affectations of simplicity, his assumption of equality in the
cocked hat of * le petit Caporal,* playing in turn the part of the unos-
tentatious soldier, the truculent conqueror, or the magnificent Emperor.
What an eye for theatrical effect ! What a sense of dramatic surprises !
Tet he had seized the popular imagination not so much by his gigantic
conceptions of conquest as by the brutal indifference of his egoism.
The proletariat worship those who trample them underfoot;
servants serve that master best who throws them a command rather
than a request ; a regiment will follow that officer more readily who
assumes a certain lavish aloofness and ' treats them like a lord,' as
the men would say. There is an attitude of servility in every crowd
composed of human beings of not more than average understanding ;
and, more than this, there is a certain naive admiration of the leader
who can impose his will on others and subordinate them to his neces-
sities, and this attitude exists no less in a theatrical audience than
elsewhere. Hence the time is still far distant when success may be
achieved by plays that have a universal rather than an individual
interest, and it is very evident that the English taste for * star ' plays
has not changed since Hamlet and Othello were written.
While, however, there is neither a Shakespeare nor a Sheridan
among us, there are certainly a few men of very modem thought
who realise in their philosophy of life that every unit is contributing
to its own httle drama of existence, that the servant who admits the
visitor has as much a part in the tragedy or comedy of the inevitable
as the leading actor in it, and that the real test of great drama consists
precisely of that element without which it is merely a stage play based
on an untenable premise.
By the inevitable in the construction of any and every class of
stage play I mean that sequence of events that follows logically and
naturally. Given that the starting-point is a human possibihty,
events should fit, episodes should drop into each other with the
neatness of Japanese bricks in a child's toy.
No more apt illustration of this can be found than in Mr. Henry
Arthur Jones's Comedy of The Liars, In Act III. we have each of
the dramatis personce separately pressed into the service of the liars
with the conviction that they could not have acted otherwise, and
even their various entrances are part of a geometrical pattern so deftly
arranged that it seems to the audience as if they could not have been
avoided. This is the very triumph of the inevitable, and will hold
the audience at whatever distance of time it may be revived. It may
also be added that this play is remarkable for the uniform importance
of all the parts to the scheme of the comedy.
J Though I have endeavoured to explain what I mean by the stock-
size of success, I do not presume to say with whom lies the fault,
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for 6yen if I had the wish to correct the prevaUicg criterion of what is
good or bad, I should find it hard indeed to say whether the mansger
is in general under- or over-rating the understanding of his audience.
There are here and there glimpses of a higher intelligence than is
manifested hj the unaccountable rush for seats for a play that oiieiuli
all the canons of art, and it is a question whether that more intellectual
portion of the pubUc is being sufficiently taken into account. As
against this there is the all-powerful argument of box-office receipti,
and the triumph of all that, for want of a more definite term, I
must call the ' middle-class ' of drama. Who, then, shall blame the
artist if, in soUciting the patronage of the pubUc, he neglect more and
more the nobler ideals with which he was equipped at tiie outset of
his career ! For, like the bride starting on her married life at tiie
altar steps, the artist has vowed oaths of allegiance and has solemnly
prayed that he may remain faithful to the work he has espoused.
That the world, in its detestation of aims higher than its own, will
sooner or later succeed in divorcing the worker from all that is best
and noblest in his art is a foregone conclusion. Only the few have
the courage to face poverty and neglect in hope of future recognition,
and if the actor, for whom there is no future, impatiently shakes the
golden tree of the present, who but he and his conscience will know
or care to know how rotten is the fruit that he has gatliered t
Obbtbude Kingston.
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THE ROMAN CATACOMBS
Supplex looi sanotitatem venerare ;
Et posthao sab Into anrnm,
Coelnm sub cceno,
Sub Bom& Bomam qosBrito.
It was Goethe, if we xemember rightly, who spoke of Rome as a world
in which it took yeais to find oneself at home. And few, if any, whose
experience qualifies them to foim a judgment, and who have anything
of the 8Bsthetic sense, will yentuie to call in question the justness of
his estimate. For it is one thing to see Rome with the outward eye,
as the mass of tourists see her, and quite another thing to be brought
into close communion with the spirit, the qmins lod, which has its
dwelling among the ruins of her splendour. There is a visible and
material Rome, be it classical, or medieval, or modem ; and there is a
Rome, too, of the imagination — invisible, impalpable, indescribable —
whose sway is over the realm of thought and feeling.
And if this be true generally of the Rome within the walls, it is
largely true also of those sombre catacombs which lie concealed
beneath the hills that encircle her. There, within a radius of some
three miles from the gates, and underlying the great roads which
enter them — ^the Via Appia, the Salaria, the Latina, the Tiburtina, the
Nomentana — the old burial-places of the early Church have mined and
honeycombed almost the whole of the surrounding Campagna.
Dark and dismal as such places must necessarily be, and full too
of disappointment for the highly coloured anticipations which eloquent
descriptions and somewhat imaginative illustrations may have excited,
they are none the less of prof oimd interest for aU who visit them in
the true spirit of historic sympathy.
By an analogy which is as happy as it is suggestive, the catacombs
of Rome have been called the Pompeii of early Christianity. For
just as the excavations of the eighteenth century opened out before
the eyes of Europe the public and private life of a civilisation
which for some seventeen hundred years had lain buried cinder the
shadow of Vesuvius, so the chance labours of workmen digging for sand
775
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in the Vigna Sanchez, close by the Via Salaiia, on the Slst of May 1578,
were destined to be our introdnction, through these long-forgotten
buiial-CTTpts, to the cradle of Roman Christianity and to the nuiseiy
of religious art.
Among the mingled feelings to which a first acquaintance with
the catacombs is likely to give rise will be one of bewilderment at the
seemingly endless extent of their ramifications. It has be^i roughly
calculated that if all the underground galleries and passages could be
placed end to end in one long line they would more than traverse the
entire length of the Italian Peninsula, and that CEegiaves endosed
in their walls would amount to at least two millions. Startling enough
in itself such an estimate as this throws an interesting light on the
rapid spread of the Christian reUgion in the capital, since it can have
been no stagnant or insignificant society which, even long before tiie
* Peace of the Church,' had come to require such an extensive area for
its dead. But so meagre and fragmentary are the records of this
primitive Christianity that our knowledge of the details concerning
its growth and progress is necessarily very imperfect, while with
r^;ard to its ancient burial-groundswe must accept the fact that for
some three hundred years their history can only be even partially
recovered by aid of the concurrent testimony of archsBology and
tradition.
The Martyrologies which have come down to us, the Church
Calendars, the compilation known as the Roman Liber PofUificdis,
the Itineraries or medieval guide-books, the invocations and prayers
of pious pilgrims scratched upon the walls of the underground
chambers, are none of them contemporary evidence, nor do they even
in their most ancient sources take us back beyond the fourth century
of our era. Nearly all the details which the primitive Church had
garnered up with such reverential care appear to have perished in the
fires of the Diocletian persecutions. Valuable, therefore, as the above
and other kindred channels of knowledge have proved themselves to
be, they have served mainly as useful signposts indicating the direction
in which the investigator might expect his work to lie. His real
business remained to be done in the dark crypts of the catacombs
themselves. It was among their labyrinthine recesses that the
scattered materials had to be sought out, classified, and compared,
upon the scientific study of which any conclusions that were to lay
claim to permanent value must be based.
The task of the original pioneers was thus arduous in^he extreme,
and not even the most ardent enthusiasm could of itself have sufficed
to bring it to a successful issue. Enthusiasm indeed there must be,
but there is needed also no slight store of persevering courage and
endurance if a man is to go down day after day and month after
month into the dark places of the earth, to force a path hither and
thither amid the accumulated rubbish of ages, and to creep, by the sid
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of torch or lamp, in and out of the narrow clefts and intersecting
passages among which a way has to be found. And yet the purely
physical obstacles by which an explorer is confronted are by no means
the most formidable of his difficulties. Decay and neglect have
played sad havoc with the catacombs. The vandalism of the
barbarian invader, aided by the still greedier vandalism of the home-
boru Philistine, has emptied them of many of their choicest treasures
and of six-sevenths of their old inscriptions. Much that, if locally un-
disturbed, would have been invaluable evidence for the archseologist, has
been ruthlessly swept away into museums and private collections, there
perhaps to form the subject of arbitrary classifications and the basis of
doubtful contentions. And with regard to what remains it requires
the training of a long experience to become possessed of that nice
discrimination which is indispensable in order to distinguish between
that which is primitive and that which has been retouched or restored.
There is the problem, too, of giving a faithful representation of these
old frescoes for the enlightenment of those to whom the privilege of
inspecting and studying the originals has been denied. Far be it
from us to forget the wonderful Parker photographs, but nevertheless,
until the recent appearance in Le Pitture ddU Catacombe Romane of
Wilpert's splendid illustrations, one would have supposed it beyond
human skill to reproduce with real artistic truthfulness the actual
blur and indistinctness of a decayed and mouldering painted
surface.
A great debt of gratitude is due to the laborious and minute
researches of men like Padre Marchi and the brothers De Rossi,
worthy followers in the footsteps of the Columbus of this rediscovered
world of tombs, Anthony Bosio. It is largely owing to their lifelong
work that there has been brought about, among those who in recent
years have made these venerable burial-grounds their study, some-
thing like a substantial agreement both as to their history and
their religious symbolism. Many baseless theories which once found
favour, and which books like the Fabiola of Cardinal Wiseman did
a good deal to popularise, have now been cast aside. We are no longer
invited to believe that the Roman catacombs were in their origin
neither more nor less than disused sandpits. Nor would the view
that their excavation was carried on secretly and by stealth find
any support at the present day. Such a work must obviously have
involved the displacement and removal of many thousand tons of soil,
and to suppose this to have been carried out so as to evade the vigi-
lance of the poHce of the capital is, as Mommsen long since pointed
out, to impose too severe a tax upon our credulity. And lastly it is
admitted that, although on the occasion of a funeral cmd of its anni-
versaries, it was the primitive custom to celebrate the Eucharist at
the grave, the catacombs were in point of fact originally planned
and designed to serve neither as subterranean places of worship, nor
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jti as Myloms of refuge from persecution, bat simply as cemeteries
for the use of the Christian commmiity.
It may assist us to understand how the R<nnan catacombs had their
origin if we picture to ourselves the positicm in which, as years passed
by, the Christian population would find itself placed in dealing with
the problem of making suitable provision for ihe dead.
But for one restriction the laws of Rome presented no diffi-
culty. Interments by Christians must follow what was the general
rule and be made outside the city walls. Subject to this c(mdition
the new sect might lawfully adopt whatever mode of burial ihey
pleased, in the fuU confidence that their cemeteries would receive
exactiy the same protection which the municipal autiiorities were
most watchful in extending to all tombs and sepulchres. Looking
round upon the customs of contemporary paganism, the eariy
converts would find more to repel than to attract them. Oemation,
at the period with which we are dealing, had all but entirely taken
the place of inhumation. For wealthy families of position tbete
were the stately mausoleums which flanked the great Appian Way.
For humbler people there were the dove-cots of the various * colum-
baria,* into which at but little expense their ashes might be received
when the fire had consumed their bodies. For the dregs of the
populace there were filthy pits like those that, as Horace tdls us
(Sat. I. viii. 8.), used to defile the Esquiline, into which their corpses
were flung like so much carrion and left to rot.
But the mausoleum with its sarcophagi of sculptured stone— so
costlyin construction and so burdensome to carry to their destination—
and with its note moreover of aristocratic exdusiveness, was but iD
adapted to meet the growing needs of a spiritual democracy, the great
majority of whose members were of very slender means, and whose
reUgious principles admitted of no distinction between rich and
poor, master and slave. Crematicm, too, was distasteful to Jew and to
Christian alike, and under the influence of the new teaching as to the
resurrection of the body it passed more and more into disuse. * Chris-
tians,' writes Minudus Felix, * hold cremation in abhorrence.' * We,'
he adds, follow the venerable and better custom of interment.'
Accordingly there remained only the ^commune sepulchrum,' the
common grave of the outlying pits. For men however who had but
just learnt that nothing which Qod had cleansed should be held
common or unclean, it would instinctively be felt a sacrilege to cast
callously to the dogs the bodies even of the very lowest of those who
through the sacrament of baptism had been enrolled amcmg the
ranks of the redeemed.
But if paganism had no burial precedents towards which a Chris-
tian would feel himself strongly attracted, it was otiierwise with
Judaism, from whose bosom it must be r^nembered that Christi-
anity had sprung. From the days of Augustus the Roman Jews
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had possessed subterranean oemeteries of their own beyond the walls,
and nothing could be more naturid than that Jewish Christianity,
in the capital should adhere to the mode of interment to which
Judaism had been there accustomed. Stronger too than even any
associations with national usage would be the profound feeling of
reverence for the example which had been rendered sacred in the
entombment of Christ Himself. The hills outside Rome did not, it is
true, in their nature resemble the limestone hills of Judssa, whose
aides were everywhere perforated with cave-tombs whether for indi-
vidual or for family use, ^ as the manner of the Jews is to bury '
(John zix. 40). But in lieu of limestone most of the country round
the walls had its own characteristic tufa formation, which was even
better suited for purposes of inhumation, and there the faithful
servants of their Lord might be laid to rest even as long years ago in
Jerusalem He had Himself been laid in the rock-hewn sepulchre of
Joseph's garden.
Easily accessible from all parts of Rome the undulations of the
neighbouring Campagna rose and fell in a series of pigmy hills and de-
pressions whose soil was of volcanic origin. Di£Fering in the dates of
their deposit the strata differed also in character. There was the red
rock, the ^ lapis ruber,' to whose durability for building purposes the
ancient Cloaca Maxima could bear witness, but which defied the
crude manipulations of pick and spade. There were also the loose
sandy beds of the * arena,' or * pozzolana' as it is now called, admirable
for cement or mortar, but too crumbling and incoherent for structural
stability. Mingling itself with these there was yet another deposit of
igneous rock neither so hard as the one nor so soft as the other, but of
just sufficient compactness and consistency to make it safely workable.
It was in this intermediate formation, this * tufa granolare,' that nature
seemed to be offering the very material which the Christians needed,
and it is accordingly in this layer of the volcanic rock that the greater
number of the catacombs have been hollowed out. Porous in its
structure, water drains off it with so much rapidity that inasmuch as
the cemeteries did not extend to the intervening valleys but were as
a rule confined to the high ground of the hills, the risk of inundation
was rendered inappreciable and the various galleries and chambers
were kept sufficiently dry.
Thus it was that the venerated tradition of their Master's grave
in the rock, the influence of Jewish custom, the law of the land, and
considerations of ordinary convenience, all combined to determine for
the primitive Christianity of Rome the character of its burial-grounds.
Situated outade the Servian walls, as the authorities prescribed, these
privately owned foundations came under the strict guardianship of
the Roman College of Pontiffs who would find in them nothing to
call for their official interference. Here therefore the solemn rites of
religion would neither be insulted by contact with the idolatries of the
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780 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Nov.
heathen population nor disturbed by the indecent mockeries of the
profane. Except where mixed marriages might have made any
strict role unwelcome, the cemeteries were intended exclusively for
Christian use, so that friends who had been ^ lovely and pleasant in
their lives ' need not in their last sleep be divided. In the peaceful
seclusion of these narrow chambers, hidden away beneath the ground,
a sorrowing group of mourners might at each recurring anniversary
find space to join in celebrating the last rites at a departed brother^s
grave, or the catechumen might receive instruction in the rudiments
of the Qiristian faith.
Probably too the natural inclination to follow the Jewish prac-
tice, and to bury the dead in subterranean catacombs, would receive
a strong stimulus from the fear of popular outbreaks. It is no doubt
the fact that for anything we know to the contrary the Roman
Christians were left potitically unmolested from the death of Nero
to the reign of Domitian, and again from the reign of Nerva (a.d. 96)
to the accession of Decius (a.d. 249-50). But even in the absence
of any open and official persecution they must have breathed from
day to day an atmosphere of constant disquiet and apprehension.
They were a sect on whom suspicion constanUy rested. Their <^eed
was quite unlike those many other Eastern cults which jostied each
other in the streets of Rome. It was no mere ^ superstitio,' no mere
alien worship of alien gods. It was something infinitely more signi-
ficant. For since fnmi the point of view of the national religion the
fortunes of Rome were the especial care of the immortal gods and
depended on their duly regulated worship, Christianity by its per-
sistent revolt against what its followers deemed to be idolatry seemed
to be endeavouring to undermine the religious basis of the State and
for this reason to be inviting every form of retributive disaster.
Moreover the very intensity of moral conviction which charac-
terised the Christians of the early Empire was in itself well calculated
to excite widespread resentment, inasmuch as the lax habits of sur-
rounding paganism were thus brought by contrast into offensive
condenmation. And not only so, but this new religion waxed in-
ci^^&^gly aggressive and invaded almost every department of daily
life. Ranging husband against wife and children against their
parents it brought dissension and strife into the peace and quiet of
the domestic circle. It stood austerely aloof from all the excite-
ments and amusements in which a decaying and degenerate society
sought relief from the haunting weariness of its unrest. No trade that
drew its profits from the crowded circus or from the theatres and
temples was long safe from its disturbing influence. Avowing their
disbeUef in the gods of the national Pantheon, but as yet without
temples or shrines of their own, refusing religious homage to the
divioity claimed by the Caesars, and scorning to offer incense on the
altar of Jupiter, the Christians in the estimation of their fellow-
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1905 THE BOMAN CATACOMBS 781
citizens were both atheists and traitors. By their nocturnal meetings
in private houses they defied the plain law of the land. Their so-
called love-feasts were whispered to be scenes both of actual canni-
balism and of the lowest forms of licentiousness. Their sacraments
suggested by the very name they bore the secret oath of a conspirator.
The hierarchical organisation of their churches, which was spreading
its hidden roots in all directions, offered a direct challenge to the
inviolable unity of Rome, while by its invasion of the Imperial
palace their missionary activity had begun to threaten even the throne
itself.
It must be remembered also that, unlike Judaism, Christianity was
a cult unUcensed by the State, and that it was therefore infected with
the taint of iUegaUty. At any moment the smouldering hatred which
it excited might burst into flame, /lit any moment the malice of
some revengeful informer, some chance wave of panic, some sudden
outburst of bigotry, might set in motion the law which the tolerance
of the reigning Caesar had perhaps for years been permitting to lie
dormant, and thus bring down on the offenders the hitherto suspended
sword. In such circumstances it is but natural to assume that the
whole Christian population, deeply conscious of the hostile and re-
sentful feeling that was abroad, and alive to the precariousness of
their position, would be eager to avail themselves of the protection
which was to be found in the peculiar quahtyof the soil of the
Gampagna, and to secure by means of subterranean excavations a
greater privacy for their funeral rites and for the graves of their dead
than would otherwise have been possible. V
Now it is evident from the Apostolic salutations in the Episties
of the New Testament that when first the catacombs came into use
there existed as yet no corporate ecclesiastical organisation ready to
take them under its supervision. Christianity at this early stage
was the religion of a number of separate and scattered family groups.
' Salute Prisca cmd Aquila,' writes St. Paul to the Romans, ^ and the
church that is in their house.^ The cemeteries accordingly belonged to
those who instituted them, and it was from their owners, and not as in
later years from the martyrs buried in them, that the most ancient of
them derived their names. Such, for example, were the crypts of
Flavia Domitilla — the burial-place of many Christian members of the
Imperial family — ^and of Priscilla, where lay the family vault of the
illustrious AciUi Olabriones not a few of whom had welcomed the new
faith. Many of these primitive crypts would naturally be enlarged
by gradual extensions as generations passed by, but a few seem
to have remained permanently confined to the family of their original
founder. The rich convert who joyfully lent his house in Rome to be
used as a church {domus ecclesicB) was equally ready to lend his
suburban gardens to be used as a place of Christian burial. And just
as a Roman magnate frequently allowed the freed-men and freed-
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782 THB NINETEENTH CENTUB7 Nov.
women attached to his domestio drde to be buried within the legftUy
defined area of his own m(mument, so a Christian of good aociai
position might often make provision within the area of his private
cemetery outside the walls for the humbler members of that wider
family whose bond of umoa was neither a common ances^ nor a
common household but a commcm creed. But^ until the time when
a corporate Christian body came into legal existence, there must have
been many cases where no such special provision was immediately
available, and we can only suppose that poorer members of the
community may not unfrequently have found a grave in the waste
grounds among the sandpits of the Campagna. For it is scarcely
probable that either the public spirit of wealthy converts or the
operations of private burial-dubs could in every instance have sufficed
to meet the needs of so large and increasing a population.
Constructed in days of religious peace the entrances to these
earliest excavations stood by the roadside open and unconcealed so
that no passer-by could iail to see them, nor was there at first any
trace of those precautions against a sudden surprise which became
a vital necessity in the dark days of the third century. No unif <Nrm
type of internal arrangement and structure was adopted since the
design would naturally differ in each case with the wishes and wealth
of the founder and with the character of the ground. Though locally
distinct in their original sites there was notiiing to prevent the inter-
linking of adjoioing cemeteries, provided <Hily that they lay on the
same hiUside, by means of subterranean communications. Indeed in
point of fact as the Christians increased in numbers it was in this
manner that their burial-grounds tended to expand, the Insuperable
bar to any general unificati(m being the marshy soil of the intervening
valleys.
Those catacombs however which tradition and archeology both
agree in referring to the first century, such as that of St. Domitilla,
present certain features of their own, in respect of the primitive
nucleus in each case, which mark them off from others of less eariy
times. These distingiiiflhing features point to the high social standing
of their proprietors, and to the early date at which the new religion
had made its way to the upper circles of Roman society whose nobler
spirits it was well calculated to attract. The family vaults in the
catacomb of St. Domitilla and in other catacombs of similar antiquity
are of ampler dimensions than the numerous chambers, or ' cubicula,*
which are found excavated in the catacombs of succeeding centuries.
They are not cut directly out of the tufa-rock, but on the oontraiy
are tastefully built up with decorative masonry of brick and terra-
cotta. Instead of narrow passages with ^ loculi * or shelf -like graves
on either side, they have spacious corridors, and deep recesses, adapted
for such large stone sarcophagi as only the wealthy could afford. Their
inscriptions, which usually give the triple nomenclature of the free-
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1906 THE BOMAN CATACOMBS 788
bom, e.g. Titos Flavios Sabinus, axe f <» the most p&rt very simple and
veiy brief and bear a olaasical rather than a distinctively Christian
character. Some of the dates in them go back to the beginning of the
second century, and in one or two very exceptional cases even to the
first. The decorative painting is of the high standard obtaining in
the moral art of the day as exemplified in the houses of Pompeu and
the baths of Rome, while the stocco-work is of an exoeUence for which
we look in vain in monuments of the third and fourth centuries. It is
owing to characteristics such as these that De Rossi felt such confidence
in referring to the ApostoUc period parts of the cemeteries of Priscilla,
on the ^a Salaria ; of Ostrianum, or Fons Petri, on the Nomentana ; and
of St. Domitilla, the grand-daoghter of Vespasian, on the Via Ardeatina.
As time went on, however, the family type of catacomb naturally gave
place in the majority of cases to the catacomb designed for all classes
of the Christian community alike, and the method of construction
which was adopted for this latter type may be described as follows.
When a suitable plot on one of tiie hillocks of the Campagna had
been conveyed, as we might now say, in trust for a cemeteory, the
land as defined by its legal boundaries became what was technically
known as a ' locus religiosus,' a plan of which would probably be filed
among the city archives. This plot was tiienceforth invested with
certain jealously guarded privileges. Not the least important of these
privileges was that in the event of a sale of the grantor's estate the
burial area did not pass with the remainder of the property but con*
tinned to be at the disposal of the founder's family and of those outside
it to whom the family rights might be extended. The work of
excavation would usually be begun by digging out a short staircase
from the surface to the depth selected for the first level, which in most
oases might be a few feet below the upper soil. Along this level, from
end to end, a horizontal tunnel or nairow passage was carried, in
width from two to three feet, and perhaps some eight feet or so in
height, with either a flat or a slightly vaulted roof. Then, at right
angles to the passage, a second gallery of similar character was con-
structed and continued up to the boundary. All subsequent workings
on this level would be governed by these two main determining lines,
which recalled the methods of Roman civil engineering and corre-
sponded to the well-known ^ cardo ' and ' decumanus ' in the plan of an
encampment or of a new town.
In the vertical walls forming either side of the passage, the ^ fossores,*
or sextons, next proceeded to carve out a series of recesses each large
enough to hold one or more bodies. These were called ^ loci,' or, less
properly, ^ locuU,' and constituted the ordinary graves which in any
completed series closely resemble those tiers or ranges of sleeping
berths so familiar to us on board our ocean steamers. With a view
moreover to the disposal of the bodies with the greatest possible
reverence, these niches were out parallel with the gallery, and not, as
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784 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Nov.
in other than Christian catacombs, at right angles to it. Coffins were
not ordinarily used, and it was necessary therefore with a view to
guarding against the products of decomposition and providing safe
access to the graves, whether for prayer or for other equally solemn
purposes, that the recess should be hermetically sealed up as soon
as the body had been deposited. This was done either by means
of a slab or by tiles, and it is curious to observe that some slabs have
been used twice over, the inscription on their inner side being of a
pagan and that on the gallery side of a Christian charact^.
As the demand for space grew greater with the ever-increasing
number of converts, either cross-galleries were added or possibly the
floor of the level was lowered so as to expose more rock, to the right
and left, for supplemental graves. But when the resources of one
level had been exhausted further provision could only be made by
sinking a new level lower down, since the available superficial area
was strictly limited to the space between the legal boundaries of the
property. In such an event great care was taken that the successive
levels should be excavated at such intervals as to be separated by a
mass of unworked soil of a sufficient density to secure adequate
stability for the new passages and recesses. The usual number of
such distinct and separate levels or floors is from two to three, but in a
few cases as many as five occur, and in one instance (that of the
catacomb of Callistus) even seven. Communication between one
level and another was provided by stairs cut out of the rock, and long
shafts in connection with the open air were made to convey the
requisite minimum of light and ventilation.
Since the majority of those buried in the catacombs were of humble
origin the ordinary type of grave which they contain is the shelf -like
^ loculus ' which has just been described. For the small minority,
whether martyrs, or benefactors, or simply private individuals who
could afford a crypt to themselves, there were other types. There was,
for example, the sarcophagus or stone coffin whose use among the richer
class of Christians, judging from the evidence afforded by the catacomb
of St. Domitilla, seems to go back to the earliest days of the &dth. Of
far more frequent occurrence, however, is the kind of tomb which for
want of a more euphonious name may be termed a ' recess-grave.' In
its more ancient form it is an oblong, either cut out of the tufa or bmlt
up of masonry, and closed by a heavy horizontal slab like a table, the
overhanging rock being excavated into a deep rectangular recess.
From the appearance of these stone slabs, the graves they cover have
been called ' table-tombs,' and these slabs when they lay over some
martyr's tomb are said to have served as improvised altars for the
celebration of the Eucharist.
A variety of later date, which archaeologists have specially dis-
tinguished as the ' arcosolium ' or arched tomb, ia for ike most part
constructed like the ' table-tomb,' but differs from it in that the niche
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1905 THE BOM AN CATACOMBS 785
or reoees above the grave is vaulted not in a rectangular but in a
semicircular form, and is arched like an apse. Both the ' table-tomb '
and the ' arcosolium ' are as a rule confined to those many crypts or
sepulchral chambers which opened out of the various galleries, and
communicated with them through doorways in the side-walls. These
chambers (' cubicula ') are very numerous in almost all the catacombs,
and correspond in a general way to the family vaults of our own day.
It is clear, to take one prominent example from the plan of the
underground church discovered by Padre Marchi in the Ostiian
cemetery, then known as the catacomb of St. Agnes, that from the
third century some of these chambers were so excavated as to form
jointly a sort of smaU basilica for public worship. The one here
referred to has an episcopal chair cut out of the rock at one end of
the crypt, while a low bench for the assistant clergy has been made to
flank the two side-waUs.
It was in some such manner as we have attempted to depict that
without let or hindrance from Rome the catacombs appear to have been
constructed by their originators. But with the fifth decade of the third
century there came a grave crisis in the history of the Church. The
Empire was at length fully awake to the imminence of the danger by
which it was being threatened, and under Dedus in the year 250 a.d.
persecution began its work anew. In the meantime however these
cemeteries had for the most part been transferred from their private
owners to the guardianship of the Bishop of Rome. Remembering
with what jealous watchfulness emperors like Trajan strove to check
the formation of any local organisations which might insidiously
develop into centres of political independence, we naturally feel
curious to know how the Church contrived to become the legalised
owner of property. One solution of the question has been sought in
the Christian burial clubs. Septimius Severus had done much to
encourage this form of club for the benefit of the poorer classes in his
capital, and the leaders of the Church appear to have been quick to
see and to profit by their opportunity. Taking action through these
officially licensed associations they are conjectured to have acquired
the corporate ownership of what had up to the beginning of the third
century been the property of individuals, so that more than a century
before the accession of Constantine we find that the catacombs have
been allocated as cemeteries for the various parish churches of the
seven ecclesiastical ' regions ' into which Rome was divided.
The external history of what may from this period be called the
burial-grounds of the Church has much in it of interest, but we must
here dismiss it with only a brief glance. In a.d. 257 the Emperor
Valerian ^ forbade all assemblies of Christians, and all visits to the
places called cemeteries.* From this edict it is in the first place clear
that, in its new shade of meaning, the term ' cemetery ' must have
sounded somewhat strangely to a Roman ear ; and, in the second place.
Vol. LVIII— No. 845 3 F
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786 THE NINETEENTH CENTUB7 Nov.
that before the middle of the third century it had come to the know-
ledge of the Qovemment that tiie Church was using its underground
crypts as religious centres. ^ You know/ cries Tertullian, ^ you
know the days of our meetings and we are besieged and ensnaredin
our most secret congregations.' Evidently however the bishops were
not intimidated but went on quietly ignoring the imperial prohibition,
for in the very next year (a.d. 268) Sixtus the Second was arrested
and beheaded in the catacomb of Prsdtextatus for deliberately
violating the law. It is accordingly to these years of terror that
certain very remarkable alterations in the catacombs must be referred.
In order if possible to baffle pursuit, the officers in charge set to
work radically to revise their structural arrangements. Aware no
doubt that their ground-plans lay open to public inspection in tke
offices of the College of Pontiffs, tiiese resourceful engineers blocked
up or obliterated the known entrances, and dug out new circuitous
rambling conduits which eventually emerged in some disused and
therefore unfamiliar sand quarry. This done, they proceeded to
demolish large portions of the existing staircases, so that no one oould
use them without ladders, substituting others in changed positions,
while at the same time by filling up many of the galleries with eartji
they rendered the approaches to the most venerated and frequented
sepulchres all but inaccessible.
But persecution had held its hand too long. Even tiie Diocletian
onslaught, searching and merciless as it was, failed in the end to
achieve its purpose, and with the natural reaction from its cruehaes
and horrors came the ' Peace of tiie Church ' in a.d. 309, and the
inauguration of her career of triumph. From aj>. 366 to 384,
Damasus, the ^ Pope of tiie Catacombs,' spared neither pains nor
money to restore and beautify the graves of those whose lives had
been given for the faith. There resulted from his labours such an
insatiable demand for permission to be buried near a martyr's
tomb that the ' fossores,' in their efforts to satisfy it, cut into
the old monuments in every direction and the decorative work of the
ancient vaults was thereby recklessly and irretrievably mutilated. By
the end of the century, however, the excitement had died down, and
the practice of interment in the open air began to supersede that of
burial in the catacombs. Ceasing to be cemeteries, tiiey now became
religious shrines. Crowds of faithful pilgrims flocked from every
quarter to do honour to the sepulchres of the dead, and the necessity of
providing more suitable staircases and of enlarging the chambers in
which the chief tombs were situated gave to the work of destruction a
fresh and powerful stimulus. With the sack of Rome by Alaric in
A.D. 410 began the long series of invasions by the barbarian hordes, and
the Campagna, which was often the actual scene of their encampments,
became better suited to the armed plunderer than to the peaoefol
worshipper. In spite of all the labours of successive Popes the old
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1906 THE BOMAN CATACOMBS 787
reverence for the catacombs began now gradually to fade away. The
material treasures of wealth which they were beUeved to conceal, as
well as their inexhaustible store of religious reUcs, had made them
the hunting-ground of innumerable robbers, and their custodians
accordingly endeavoured to preserve all that remained worth preserv-
ing by translation to the crypts of ike dty churches. By the middle
of the ninth century this tedious and mehmcholy work had been com-
pleted, all interest in the catacombs had ceased, and they soon became
so utterly neglected that in a few more years they had altogether
passed out of human memory.
In the brief account of the catacombs which has been presented
in the preceding pages it has been necessary to hmit ourselves to what
seemed to be the chief points of interest in their construction and
history. It remains now to add a few words as to the paintings with
which the recesses, walls, and ceilings of their crypts were decorated.
We have already seen that in adopting the catacomb form of burial
the Christians made no new departure. And the same may be said
of their sepulchral art. The mural decoration of the resting-places
of the dead was a practice quite familiar to the world into which
Christianity was bom. The Etrurians, whose art had for generations
been natundised in Rome, had made the conception of a future life and
judgment a prominent feature in the decorative imagery of their tombs.
In the Jewish cemeteries beyond the walls the symbolism of the seven-
branched candlestick, of the palm, the chaUce, and the vine was in
general use. Not only was this the case, but Christianity itself was a
reUgion steeped in symboUsm. The parables of Christ were but the
symbolism which it was His custom to adopt in raising His hearers
through the forms of sense and the familiar scenes of everyday hfe
to the invisible things of God ; while in the Apostohc writings the
events and ceremonies of the Old Testament had everywhere been
treated as types and allegories of the New.
The real task of the Church was neither to create a new art, nor
to originate the idea of symbolism, but to apply the skill of contem-
porary artists trained in the methods and traditions of the classical
school to the pictorial expression of the reUgious conceptions and
beUefs and aspirations which were the creations of a new faith. Her
members were for the most part unlettered men, many of whom would
with difficulty understand even the oral teaching which they received
in their assembhes. Printing and the printing press lay in the far
distant future, and in the ordinary sense of the term there were as yet
no churches. At the same time the vaults of the catacombs were
places of frequent resort for funeral services and their anniversaries,
and during the period of persecution for purposes also of ordinary
reUgious worship. It seems accordingly to have suggested itself to the
bishops and priests of the Church that the prevalent practice of mural
ornamentation might be so utilised as to minister to her spiritual
3 F '2
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788 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Nov.
miflsion. In the Roman world her doctrines had but too frequently
been made the butt of the scofEer and the caricaturist. In tiie
hallowed chambers of the catacombs Christian teaching might be
presented, as its Founder had presented it, in all the beautiful
simplicity of its appeal to man's heart and conscience. Beneath a
semi-transparent veil of symbolism even the most ignorant might be
encouraged to discern something of that vision of new hope and of a
purer and better life which was transfiguring the face of contemporary
paganism. A cycle of Christian subjects was gradually thought out,
and illustrations were very carefully selected from the sacred writings,
with a view to a definite purpose. The idea of the Church in causing
these pictures to be multipUed throughout the catacombs was that
converts should thus learn the meaning of deliverance from peril
and from sin, of the sacramental means of grace, and of the sure hope
of a life with their heavenly Father beyond the grave. In the figure
of the Good Shepherd, adapted originally no doubt from the familiar
type of the Hermes Criophoros, or Mercury with the ram, but so
modified as to become wholly Christian in character and feeling, they
would see the pictorial reflection of the strength and power, the good-
ness, the unselfishness, the loving and watchful care of Him who had
announced that He came to save the sheep that were lost. The trellised
vine and many a bright scene from the vintage would recall the
parable of the True Vine and its branches. In Orpheus taming the
wild creatures by the witchery of his lyre, in Ulysses and the Sirens,
in Jonah and Daniel, in Moses and tiie stricken rock, in Noah and
the arkj in the ascension of Elijah, in the sacrifice of Isaac, and the
raising of Lazarus, in the ^ oranti ' with their hands stretched heaven-
ward in prayer, in the m}rstic bread and fish, in the ship making for
the haven, in the anchor of hope, and in the dove of holy peace,
the catacombs possessed a significance and wealth of symbol which
in the case of baptized converts could scarcely fail to render easily
inteUigible the rudiments of the Christian faith.
Such then in merest outline was the art of the catacombs. To
mature this art and bring it to its full development was to be the task
of many minds, of many hands, and of many generations. As purely
decorative or conventional it is seen at its best in the simple and
non-reUgious naturalism of the paintings of vintage subjects and the
like in the most ancient crypts. As reUgious art, whose primary aim
is not aesthetic beauty but spiritual edification, that rude art where
the form is of such slight and the idea of such paramount importance,
it receives more suitable illustration in the catacombs of the third
century. For in these matters the Church walked at first with very
timid footsteps. Pagan art had been so closely intertwined with
idolatry and immoraUty that it was only with the greatest caution that
it could be utilised for a higher and purer service. Still, the difficulty
was overcome, and overcome apparently to the satisfaction of the
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Hebiaio no less than of the Qreek element in the community. Nor
can anyone become acquainted with the religious teaching of the
Roman catacombs without f eeUng deeply impressed with its earnest-
ness, its simpUdty, its exuberance of hope, its gentleness, its forgetful-
ness of pain and suffering and persecution. Nowhere does there
appear any picture of Christ's agony or passion, nowhere any awful
representations of judgment. * Among all these remnants of the
dead,' as has been most truly pointed out, ' you see no sinister
symbol, no image of distress or mourning, no sign of resentment,
no expression of hatred or vengeance. ... All breathes the senti-
ments of composure, gentleness, affection, and brotherly love.'
And as the traveller emerges from these mouldering frescoes into
the daylight and stands among the ruined monuments that line the
Appian Way, he seems to be gazing in imagination on two sharply
contrasted pictures. All around him are the tombs of illustrious
Romans to whom death was but the appointed end of Ufe, and who met
it, when it came, with tranquillity and dignity. Beneath his feet he the
goodly company of the Christian dead to whom death had been but
the portal of that new Ufe where sorrow and sighing flee away.
Over the classic tombs there might well be inscribed the beautiful
lines of Catullus :
Soles ocoidere et redire possnnt ;
Nobis, com semel occidit brevis lux,
Nox est perpetoa una dormienda.
Suns that set may rise anew ;
On us, once our brief Hght has set,
There falls the sleep of one unbroken night.
Over the graves of the Christian catacombs might still be recognised
the fading outUnes of the figure of Christ calling up Lazarus from the
sepulchre. For in the language of the Church the death-day of her
children was in truth their birthday into a better world, and death
itself was no endless and unbroken sleep but just a brief interval of
rest (Rev. vi. 10-11), from which at the Master's call an awakening
would one day surely come. The Roman world was content to know
these burial-grounds by their topographical title of Catacombs. To
the Christian Church they were sacred as her 'cemeteries,' the
temporary * sleeping-places ' of those faithful labourers on whom God
had bestowed His loving gift of rest.
H. W. HOARE.
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LATIN FOR GIRLS
No ezerdse of human wisdom, not even a Headmasters' Conference,
can estimate the loss and gain over compulsory Latin. There is the
discipline, the grind of work, which has its reward in the acquirement
and enjoyment of style. It is a great pleasure, and a great honour,
to have studied the classics. The dull business of getting to like them
is soon forgotten, and the happiness of familiarity with them is long
remembered. Even in the imitation of them there was pleasure:
a good copy of verses, or of prose, brought the delight of authorship
and the envy of other boys. The poets began to be not books but
men, who offered themselves for comparison with our own poets:
Virgil was like Tennyson, Juvenal was better than Pope, Horace
recalled Vaniiy Fair and the Book of Snobs. The like individuality
came out even in the writers of prose. Cicero was unpleasant, not
so much for the hardness of- his sentences as for his self -consciousness
and love of sitting on the fence : and his letters to Atticus were so
stupid that Atticus ought not to have kept them. Tacitus was a
gentleman, because he had a conscience. livy was a poor cteature.
Now and again, Lucretius or Catullus ai Peisius would look in and say
afew words to improve the occasion : and a few words from Lucretius
go a long way. But mostly the atmosphere was kept at the exact
temperature and dryness of the Augustan Age : and, if it was not
one book of Horace, it was another.
Discipline, accuracy, an ear for poetry, a proper respect for style,
a store of quotations — ^all these advantages, and much else, oome of
the enforced study of the classics, and happy is he who has ground
at them. The good scholar, to whom they are as old friends, gives
distinction, wherever he is, to his company. But such scholars are
like those rare spirits who take tmfeigned delight in Milton : they
are one in a thousand. For which reason, and not for it alone, the
gain over compulsory Latin is mixed with loss. Of all the boys who
are conscripts in the service of the classics, few attain high rank.
For every boy who loves Latin there are ten who love it not, and more
than ten on whom in later years it has no influence, or next to none.
Be that as it may, there are girls as well as boys. And here, in
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the home-teacUng of Latin to girls, is a fine opportonity. Girls
who are not going to be deep soholais need not caie for nice distinc-
tions of style, or stady the contrast between this and that author.
They have no time for such scholarship. With French and German
and music and drawing and games and dancing, their days are well
filled. They make little time-tables, in the schoolroom, for * getting
everything in ; ' we must not expect from them strict Latinity.
Even without Latin, there is always a clashing of their intellectual
engagements. Where, in these busy and eager lives, shall we find
time for Latin? And what kind of Latin will win their attention, and
be enjoyed and remembered and used long after they have left the
schooboom! It was all very well for Lady Jane Grey, and Mrs.
Browning, and Miss Anna Swanwick, who had especial advantages, and
Lady Jane Grey had a private tutor. But a girl of to-day, fond of
reading, but with fifty caUs on her time and strength, cannot make
any profound study of the classics, and can hardly care for them.
How far ought she to care for them ? Why should they not take
their chance with the other claimants of her few leisure hours, and
let their claim stand or fall by its own merits ? They are not all of
them of the company which she ought to keep : they must imdergo
much expurgation, and still will not be quite clean. We avoid all
that, and select easy passages, and offer to her the mere scraps or
samples of the literature of one place and one period, and the period
is gone, and the place all changed. Read after that fashion, the
classics neither touch her heart nor strengthen her will nor widen her
outlook nor add to her knowledge so surely as her own classics. For
she has her own classics : Tenn3r8on for her Virgil, Thackeray for her
Horace, Ruskin for her Juvenal, and Shakspeare for all of them :
and there is no height of poetry or prose to which she can attain and
not find it of her own speech and country.
It may be, therefore, that the classics are not that sort of Latin
which our girls ought to study. They have in the English classics,
mostly at fourpence-halfpenny a volume, the whole range of love,
tragedy, comedy, patriotism, and worldly wisdom. They have no
call to be exact scholars, must not be offended by certain words and
allusions, are more concerned with the present than with the past, and
are already occupied with arts, sciences, home duties, Uttle charities,
pleasures, day-dreams, and with eating and sleeping and athletics.
Acts of religion, friendships, hoUdays, all take time : and time, like
cloth, is wasted if it is cut in short lengths. To them, who are the life
of home, we cannot commend lightly a dead language, which would
only be one more * subject ' — ^the same word is used by anatomists of
a body. That was the method of Miss Cornelia Blimber. * There
was no light nonsense about Miss Blimber. None of your Uve lan-
guages for Miss Blimber. They must be dead — stone dead — and
then Miss BUmber dug them up.'
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792 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Nov.
Bat all Latin is not a dead langoage. There is a dead Latin, and
there is a living Latin. Or, at least, there is a way of learning Latin
as if it were dead, and a way of learning it as if it were alive. And,
in fact, it is alive, in a sense of the word which may fairly be called
true. This Uving Latin would give a pleasant change of learning to
oar girls, and a new prospect over other lessons. For it, they must
have a sound knowledge of Latin grammar, and must be able to
translate easy sentences. That is to say, they must know about as
much Latin as their brothers know when they leave their preparatory
schools. Perhaps less than that might suffice. Now comes the parting
of the ways : the boys go o£E to public schools, the girls stay at home.
The boys have the L&tin classics set before them, and must translate
them into English, without a crib. For the girls, let the process be
reversed. Let us set before them certain English classics, already
well known by them, which are also Latin, and were Latin before they
were English : and let us ask them, since they know the English
version by heart, to hear how it sounds in Latin.
First, the Lord's Prayer and the Creed. That must be their first
Latin exercise. This proposal is made, as Mr. Guppy said when he
proposed marriage to Miss Summerson, ^hoping it will be without
prejudice.' They must begin with some piece of Latin which they
already know in English, and know well. If they knew by heart
the EngUsh for Anna virumjue, they might begin with YuffL If
they had said, every time they went to bed, AU Oaid is divided irUo
three parts, they might begin with Caesar. They do know the English
for Pater noster and Credo in unum Deum, and know it by heart;
therefore they must b^;in there. They learned them ^ in the vulgar
tongue ' : that is to say, in a translation. They do not learn th^
Schiller and their Victor Hugo ^ in the vulgar tongue,' but in .the
proper tongue : let them give the Uke attention to the Latin of the
Lord's Prayer and the Creed. For it is absurd that they should be
set to translate Caesar and Ovid, especially Ovid, and never be told
even to look at the Latin of that which they have already got by heart
in English. And how easy Horace would be if, at the &»t sight of
Integer vitce or of Justum ac tenacem, they could see that it was out of
Hymns Ancient and Modem.
Holding fast to this rule, that they must already know in English,
and know well, what they are to find again in Latin, they will yet
find many exercises. It is mainly Church classics— ^' hoping it will
be without prejudice ' : canticles, prayers, psalms, and hymns, and
the Scriptures. The majority of well-educated girls are familii^r with
the English of many passages in these writings, but wholly ignorant
of the Latin. They know, for instance, the Magnificat. If they were
boys, they would have to parse the Magnifi/xa, and say what noun is
commanded by that stately verb. But it is never set to boys, because
it is not Ciceronian. Still, it is more poetical than Cicero, and more
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majestical than Livy ; and the boys have to learn Livy. Compare
the two :
Proote, regi AlbsB, duo filii Nomitor atqne Amolins erant. Nmnitori, qui
natn maximas erat, pater regnnm vetusttim gentis legat.
Magnificat anima mea Dominum, et exultavit spiritus mens in Deo salutari
meo. Qoia respexit hmnilitatem ancillse sqsb.
The advantage is not with Livy. But this question of style is
of no concern here. And, if it were, so mach the better : for CSmrch
Latin may have more slyle than Church EngUsh. There is no style
in As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall he, world without end :
but it sounds well in Latin, Susut eraJt in prinoipio, et nuno, et semper,
et in scBCula scBCulorum.
Style or no style, this Latin is not a dead but a living language.
Though it were no more true than Ovid's Metamorphoses, and no more
poetical than Cornelius Nepos, and could be stripped of all context,
like selections from Csesar, and of all association with faith and reli-
gion and ethiqs, it is alive. It would never do for Miss Blimber. Take
the case of a girl, brought up in the English Church, who goes into
a cathedral abroad, and hears the Latin service. Her vulgar tongue
is now become the dead language, and the Latin is the modem language.
She wonders what they are saying ; and it is her own words that
they are saying, and she ought to recognise them, and fails. Nothing,
in all education, could be more perverse than that.
But there are other ways, beside Church Latin, of learning Latin
as a living language, present in daily talk and use. There are inscrip-
tions, dedications, epitaphs, and mottoes. Epitaphs, especially, are
admirable exercises. Their vocabulary is strictly limited ; and they
have no oratio obliqua, no involved sentences, and no impropriety :
and they are almost structureless. And, like the Credo, you know
beforehand what they are going to say.
Quotations in common use, also furnish abundant materials for
study : there are a thousand well-known scraps and tags of Latin
ready to hand, many of them mere fragments in need of restoration.
It is a pleasant exercise to find the missing words, and to trace the
history of famiUar sajrings.
Abbreviations, syllables, and letters in daily use should also be
studied. Trivial though they are become, they are perfect examples
of living Latin, and numerous enough for a good lesson.
Derivations also are of great value. A paragraph taken at random
from the daily paper should be used, to show how English words are
rooted in Latin, from which they have grown, and by which they live.
Here, in these and the like pursuits of living Latin, is occupation
of time and thought, not in vain. Of itself, this haphazard irre-
sponsible way of taking Latin may seem a poor makeshift for the study
of the classics. But it is for girls, not for boys. Let the girls be
content, if they can learn, with more or less accuracy, to shoot Latin
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794 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Nov.
as it flies. And consider how far tliis pursnit leads them. To care
for the derivation of common words is to gain skill in the use of them,
and to have insight into their exact meaning. To understand quota-
tions, abbreviations, and so forth, is to keep the mind alert and
scholarly, and to gain a wider outlook over the arts of speaking and
writing. To take up Church Latin is to enter a quiet kingdom, ridi
in poetrj, where the air is clean, and the land not void of human
interests. This sort of Latin, surely, is the true LitercB Humaniores
for a girl. From end to end of it, she will find it neither outlandish
nor dull. She has been in it all the time, and did not know it. She
finds in it her own words and her own thoughts.
When she has got a fair way in these home-studies, she will have
to be examined. Qirls love examinations. A vivS, voce, in the family
circle, over Latin made easy, is excellent sport. And here are three
papers. Of course, dictionaries are allowed: and it is against the
rules of the game to plough or pluck any of the candidates.
I
1. Expkin the following abbreviations: «.«., vtM., P.S,, NM,, 8J*.QJLi
LL,D., £, 8. d^ E,B. et I.
2. Write oat the Lord*8 Prayer in Latin.
8. Translate into Latin prose
The cause ig in my will ; I will not come :
That if enough to satiify the Senate.
4. Write out a verse from one of the three following compositions (a) Adeite
FidsleSy (b) Ocvudeamue, (c) Duloe Domum,
5. Translate the following : * Feoisti nos ad Te, et inqnietom est cor nostrum
doneo requiesoat in Te.'
6. Qnote, or compose, Latin mottoes for a hospital, an essay-club, a gym-
nasium, a statue of Joan of Arc, a country cottage, and a picture-gallery.
n
1. Explain carefully the following words or phrases, and, if necessary, give
their context : mutcUii mutandii, vice versd, ex poet facto, Quern Deue twtt,
Non nobis, Sic vos non vobis, Sic transit, and (sic).
2. Write out the Creed in Latin.
8. What do you understand by pons asvnorttm, lacrima rerum^ peHtio
principii, particeps crinUnis, and lusus natune 7
4. Translate into Latin prose
The evil that men do, lives after them :
The good is oft interred with their bones.
5. Trace the Latin derivation of the words in the following sentence : * The
confraternity appealed to the Chancellor and the Dean to invoke the authority
of the Papal Bull against the dissemination of speculative doctrines.'
6. Compose a Latin inscription, of not more than twenty words, for one of
the lions in Trafalgar Square.
Ill
1. Explain, from the point of view of history, the Latin on a penny.
2. What are the elements of Latin in the following words : suburban,
transpontine, ultramontane, intermediate, approximnate, opposite, and remote^
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8. An English anthor has lately defended the use of the phrase ' Under the
olronmstances.' Give your opinion on this point
4. Translate /r«0^ into Latin j>ro«e
Every little boy or girl
That's bom into this world alive,
Is either a little Liberal
Or else a little Conservative.
5. Lnagine that yon have written a book. Dedicate it, in Latin, to one of
^onr friends.
6. Express, in Latin : God save the King, Three cheers for {Florecmt) the
Nayy, the Army, and the Reserve Forces, and I wish you a merry Christmas
and a happy New Year.
These are not, indeed, the sort of papers to make exact scholars.
But, for girls at home, who might perhaps be won, as it were for a
pastime, to enjoy and use the Latin which lives in our daily life, here
is an open way, and a pleasant introduction to a new country. It is
tiieir own country. Its speech is called Latin, and is pronounced
as Itatian : but, for all that, it is also, in a very true significance,
EngUsh.
Stephen Paget.
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796 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Nov.
SOME
SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY HOUSEWIVES
It is well sometimes to cast our eyes backwards and compare the
past with the present. Especially does this apply to the position of
women and their education, about which so much is said and written
nowadays. What did the great ladies know, how did they employ
their time, and what was their influence on their contemporaries ?
In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries even queens were
learned. That beautiful Mary Stuart, the enigma of whose unhappy
fate and whose wonderful fascination still afford interest and arouse
curiosity, knew Latin, French, and Italian; played, danced, and
sang delightfully, and in the latter accomplishment so exdted Queen
Elizabeth's jealousy that her rival cross-questioned Melville, the
Scotch Queen's ambassador, anxiously as to which lady danced the
best. Elizabeth also was educated in the most solid manner by
excellent tutors, could deliver a Qreek or Latin oration, and delighted
in hearing learned disputations. At other times she played on her
viol or practised with her needle. She was a prudent, thrifty manager ;
all her accounts when princess were submitted to her to sign as auditor.
She spoke Italian fluently, and loved to display her knowledge of the
language. When quite a girl she had read CScero, Sophocles, the
Qreek Testament and the writings of St. Paul. Most of the ladies
of the Renaissance managed to combine a virile education with the
duties of housewifery. Sir Thomas More wished his daughters to
devote the first years of their life to the study of human learning and
the liberal arts, and their later years to physical sciences and theology.
King James the First of England held curious views about the educa-
tion of women. He believed that a man is made vain and foolish by
learning, and instructed Lord Harrington, tutor to the Princess
Elizabeth, afterwards Queen of Bohemia, not to make a Greek or Latin
scholar of her, as was the fashion of the day ; but to teach her the
true wisdom by instructing her thoroughly in religion and giving her
a general idea of history. So her lessons in history and geography
became a game in which pictorial cards had to be shuffled and arranged.
If a butterfly or glowworm caught her eye, some account was given
her of their nature, and of the wonderful variety of insect metamor-
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phosis. The childien delighted in lookiiig at things through the
microBcope, and at stais through the telescope, and thus even in
those days a beginning was made of nature study, prosecuted in play.
The Duchess of Newcastle.
Margaret, Duchess of Newcastle, the incomparable duchess,
* that princely woman, thrice noble Margaret,' as Charles Lamb in
his adoration calls her, was bom in 1623, the daughter of Sir Charles
Lucas, of St. John's Place, near Colchester. Her father died soon
after her birth, and her mother, a beautiful and dignified woman,
with a ^ majestic grandeur ' as the duchess calls it, bred her children
tenderly, laying more stress on moral qualities than accomplishments.
The duchess loved her much, and speaks of her charmingly : ^ By her
dying,' she says, ^ one might think death was enamoured with her,
for he embraced her in a sleep, and so gently as if he were afraid to
hurt her.'
Margaret's one passion was reading; books, work, and country
walks occupied the sister's time while the brothers dined, hunted,
and danced. The family were exclusively devoted to one another.
In London, though living apart, the various members met every day,
^ feasting each other like Job's children.' They went to the theatre,
to Hyde Park, supped on the Thames in barges, to the accompani-
ment of sweet music, always together. They cared for no other
company or for the society of strangers, the whole party agreed well,
they went about in a shoal, sisters and brothers-in-law and their
children. But though intensely kind and accommodating to each
other, they were not so pleasant to strangers. Clarendon says of Sir
Charles Lucas, Margaret's brother, * He was very brave in his person,
and in a day of battle a gallant man to look upon and follow ; but at
all other times and places of a nature hard to hve with, of no good
understanding, of a rough and proud humour, and very morose con-
versation.' A bringing-up so exclusive and narrow developed a
dreamy nature in the clever girl, and while causing her to cling lovingly
to her family, made her proud and contemptuous to the rest of the
world. Various opinions have been held of her. Charles Lamb
wrote of one of her books that ^ no casket is rich enough, no casing
sufficiently durable, to honour and keep safe such a jewel.' Others
think differently. Pepys considered her a ^ mad, conceited, ridiculous
woman, in her dress so antick and her deportment so ordinary.' She
confessed herself that she was very ambitious, but neither for wit,
titles, wealth, nor power, but * as they are steps to raise me to fancy's
tower, which is to live by remembrance in after years.' She had her
wish ; her books are still read, and her name is still famous. At the
early age of twelve she began to write, and as she wandered in listless
reverie through the corridors of the old abbey or in the garden walks
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she wove some of these faaioies and invented for herself those faoitastic
oostumes which, later in life, she produoed bef(»e the eyes of the
astonished world. From this quiet, almost monastic existence it
was a sudden step to C!ourt life. Margaret, like many young ladies
of that time, became a maid of honour. Being extremely shy, she
veiled her shyness under an assumption of haughtiness. Accompany-
ing the Queen Henrietta Maria to France on the breaking forth of the
Civil War, she met her fate, her future husband, the Marquis of New-
castle, one of the fine gentlemen of the day, an accomplished poet
and musician, proficient in dancing, riding, and other fashionable
sports. He was rich, dispensed princely hospitality, and possessed
beautiful and gracious manners. The heart of the shy, romantic
young girl went out to him at once, though he was thirty years
her senior, a widower, and the father of children older than herseli
They were married in 1645 in Paris ; but by this time the fortunes of
Margaret's husband were completely changed. The Civil War had
ruined him, and he was now reduced to poverty. Mai^aret went
with him to Antwerp, where they lived in a small way, lodging in the
house of the widow of a painter, said to have been Rubens. Her own
home had been destroyed, and they were dependent for the neces-
saries of life on their friends' bounty. Lady Jane Cavendish obtained
the gift of her father and brother's lives, but was unable to send them
any money. She, like many great ladies of that time, sold h^ plate
and jewels, and sent the proceeds to her relations in Antwerp. Of
another of Lord Newcastie's daughters, who married the Earl of
Bridgewater, it was said by her contemporaries that ' she was a noble
and generous soul, yet of so meek and humble a condition, that never
any woman of quality was greater in the world's opinion and less in
her own.' Later, Margaret came to England herself to try to get
some of the rents paid, and it was then, during this year of residence
in England, that she published her first book. Her endeavour to
procure money had signally failed. Yet she declared that 'With
the marquis she had rather be a poor beggar than mistress of the
world absented from him.'
At the Restoration the marquis received bade his lands and was
created a duke.
But sad indeed was the sight that met the duke's eyes on his
return ; Bolsover, that princely place where he had entertained King
Charles the First, was a ruin. Welbeck remained the only one of the
eight parks he had possessed, dipston Park, the duchess says,
'Which was seven miles in compass, and of which the pales were
valued at 2,0002., rich in wood, and watered by a pleasant river, full
of fish, otters, well stocked with hares, partridges, and pheasants, and
aU sort of waterfowl . . .' was a desert. Notwithstanding their mis-
fortunes, the couple bore adversity nobly. When the duchess appeared
at Court, in 1667, she aroused a kind of enthusiasm. As she drove
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in the park, her coach was suiroonded by people in foot or on carnages
who tried to get a glimpse of her. Pepys describes her as a ^ comely '
woman. Evelyn said she was finely formed. Her portrait is that
of a tall, well-proportioned figure with marked features, a high fore-
head, fuU Ups, and large, heavy-hdded eyes.
Evelyn, whose father-in-law. Sir Richard Browne, when ambassador
in Paris, had lent his chapel for the duchess's marriage, mentions her
frequently. She was very fond of Mrs. Eveljn, and insisted on accom-
panying her to the Court. Evelyn notes his interview with her
Grace, in her bedchamber (a custom of the day), and calls her ^ a
mighty pretender to learning, poetry, and philosophy.' On another
occasion he speaks of going to make court to the duke and duchess,
who received him with great kindness, and * I was much pleased with
the extraordinary fanciful habit, garb, and discourse of the duchess.'
The duchess now entered on the career of authoiship which made
her famous. The play The Humorous Lovers, attributed to the duke,*
was written by her. Horace Walpole terms it * one of the best plays
of the day.'
But Pepys is of quite a different opinion. He says :
to the play of my Lady Newcastle, that most silly thing that ever came upon
a stage. I was sick to see it, but yet would not but have seen it that I might
the better understand her. . . . The whole story of this lady is a romance, and
all she does is romantic. She and her lord mightily pleased with her play, and
she at the end made her respects to the players from her box and did give them
thanks. There is as much expectation of her coming to Court as if it were the
Queen of Sheba.
Somewhat eccentric was the fair authoress. She drove out in a
laige black coach of funeral magnificence, adorned with silver, with
white velvet curtains, and dressed her footmen and coachmen in black
velvet coats ; while her own costume consisted of ^ a velvet cap, her
hair about her ears, many black patches about her mouth, a naked
neck without anything on it, and a black just-athcorps.^
The president of the Royal Society gave an entertainment in her
honour, where she was led in by several lords, ^ Lord Geoige Berkeley,
the Earl of Carlisle, and a very pretty young man, the Duke of
Somerset.'
All this adoration was enough to turn any young woman's head,
and one is not surprised to hear that she cared little for the society of
women, sa}dng it was impossible to converse with them on equal
terms, and priding herseU on superiority above the other authoresses,
who, she said, only selected for their themes ' devotions or romances,
receipes for medicines, cooking or confection, or a copy or two of
verses.'
Though this charming creature was absurdly flattered, she occa-
sionally met her match, as when she inquired of Wilkins, Bishop of
Chester, who was discussing his favourite topic of travelling to the moon,
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* Where shall I find a place to sail, if I tiy a journey to that planet 1 '
He answered : ^ Madam, of all people of the world I have least expected
that question from you, who have built so many castles in the air that
you may he every night in one of them.'
Ifaigaret was distinctly a superior woman ; she disliked feminine
pursuits, cared little for ordinary society, abhorred cards, and thought
dancing below the dignity of a married woman.
Very amusing were her attempts at housekeeping, honestly
undertaken because she had been attacked for neglect of her house
duties.
I sent for the governess of my house [she writes], and bid her give orders to
have flax and wheels bought, for I with my maids wonld sit and spin. The
governess, hearing me talking so, smiled to think what uneven threads I would
spin, *For,' said she [rather impertinently we might consider], 'though
nature has made you a spinster in poetry, yet education has not made you a
spinster in housewifery, and you will spoil more flax than get cloth by your
spinning.'
Then I bid her leave me to consider of some other work, and when I was
by myself alone, I called into my mind which sort of wraught works, most of
which thou^ I had wiU yet I had no skill to work, for which I did inwardly
complain of my education that my mother did not force me to work with my
needle. At last I pitched upon making silk flowers, for I did remember when
I was a girl I had made some, although ill fiivooredly.
Whereupon I sent for the governess of my house again, and told her I
would have her buy coloured silks, for I was resolved to employ my time
making silk flowers. She told me she would obey my commands, but, said she,
* Madam, neither you nor anyone that serves you can do them so well as those
which make them their trade, neither can you make them cheaper than they
will sell them out of their shops, therefore you had better buy these toys if you
desire them.*
Is not this the modem reasoning against needlework with a
vengeance ? However, the duchess was not beaten :
Then I told her I would preserve, for it was summer time and the fruit fresh
and ripe upon the trees. She asked me for whom I would preserve, for I
seldom did eat sweetmeats myself nor made banquets for strangers, unless I
meant to feed my household servants with them. * Besides,' said she, * you
may keep half a score servants with the money that is laid out in sugar and
coals which go to the preserving of only a few sweetmeats.' At last I con-
sidered that I and my maids had better be idle than to employ time unprofit-
ably and spend money idly, and after I had mused sometime, I told her how I
heard my neighbours condenmed me for letting my servants be idle without
employment She said my neighbours would find fault where no fault was,
and my maids would complain more if they were kept to work than when they
had liberty to play. Said she, * None can want employment as long as there
are books to be read, and they will never enrich your fortunes by your working
or their own, unless they make a trade of working, and then perchance they
might get a poor living, but not grow rich by what they can do, whereas by
reading they will enrich their understanding, increase their knowledge, and
quicken their wits ; all which will make their life happy in being content with
any fortune, therefore they cannot employ their time better than to read nor
your Ladyship than to write.'
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So ended the duchesB's attempt at houBehold work.
She and the duke lived on homely fare ; it was a case of plain
living and high thinking. ^ He ' (the duke) ' makes,' his wife tells us,
^ but one meal a day, at which he diinks two good glasses of small
beer and a little glass of hock, in the middle of the dinner, which
^ass he ako uses in the morning for his breakfast, with a morsel of
bread.'
Tea was not then introduced, and ladies and gentlemen alike
drank beer or wine for breakfast. ^His supper consists of an
egg and a tiny glass of small beer. My diet is for the most part
sparing, as a little boiled chicken or the like, my drink commonly
water.'
The duchess wrote so much and so quickly that she had her
works transcribed, but rarely revised the proofa. She lies in West*
minster Abbey, and on her monument she is spoken of as a ' wise,
witty, and learned lady.'
Many other ladies of her time were scholars. Lady Ranelagh
(Lord Cork's daughter), sister to Lady Warwick, who loved her dearly,
was a profound Hebrew scholar, and Lady Langham could converse
and discuss points of divinity and humanity in several languages.
It is said that Lady Packington wrote The Whole Duty of Man.
Lady Halket, though she employed five hours in devotion daily, yet
led a very busy life, and left upwards of twenty volumes, foUo and
quarto, containing, as was the fashion of the day, meditations, prayers,
and diary. Lady Fanshawe wrote voluminous memoirs, as did Mrs.
Hutchinson, who compiled them for her children. She, Lady Norton,
Mrs. Evelyn, Lady Masham, Mrs. Bury, were aU profoundly learned
women.
Ann, Countess of Dobsbt and Pembrokb,
is another interesting figure of the day. She was educated, like many
other great ladies, by a tutor, Samuel Daniel, the poet laureate.
She was taught housewifery by a lady, and, as a young girl, had read
St. Augustine, Eusebius, Sir Philip Sidney's Arcadia, Camden, and
Cornelius Agrippa. She went to Court under the care of her aunt,
Lady Warwick, married the Earl of Dorset as her second husband,
and, when a rich widow, set herself to repair the ravages of the war ;
restored Skipton Castle in Yorkshire, which took her seven years,
and though warned that Cromwell would destroy her castles as often
as she rebuilt them, the undaunted countess repUed : * As often as he
destroys them, I would rebuild them, while he leaves me a shilling in
my pocket.' A keen lojralist, Uke most of the nobility of that day,
she was also an ardent supporter of her name and possessions. She
restored five other castles besides Skipton, and rebuilt the churches
of Skipton, Appleton, and Bongate. She founded schools for the
Vol. LVin.— No. 846 3 G
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poor, and appreciated the benefits of edaoation, while enjojring the
ftimple punoits of her rural existence : ^ I do more and more,' she
writes, ' fall in love with the contentment of a country life, which
humour of mine I do wish with all my heart may be conferred on my
posterity, that are to succeed me in these places, for a wise body
ought to make their own homes the place of self-fruition and the
comfortablest part of their life.' She felt that she held her earthly
possessions for the good of others. No inclemency of weather or
perils in the way deterred her from visiting at stated intervals her
castles, and alwajrs before quitting home she entered her closet to
commend herself to divine protection. Through mist and snow her
horse Utter might be seen toiling along the rough roads which had to
be cut for her passage by bands of labourers who acted as her pioneers.
Once, when she was ill, but insisted on performing her journeys as
usual, and her attendants sought to prevent her starting, the heroic
woman repUed : ' I know I must die ; it is the same thing to me to die
in my litter or in my bed.'
In medisBval fashion she assembled the most varied company
under her hospitable roof. The young were trained, the old sup-
ported, men of learning afforded opportunities which they could not
otherwise have secured of quiet study in her library, and of congenial
intercourse with other scholars. Even the chance passer-by was
greeted with a hearty welcome and lavish hospitality. In queenly
fashion she received all classes, and greeted the clergy, to whom she
was a firm friend and benefactor, as well as the noble passing by her
gates. Tet all this beneficence was not mere ostentation ; it was
carefully planned and distributed. During the hours of the night
she arranged the doings and business of the succeeding day ; her
receipts and disbursements were noted in the office with minute care ;
her private accounts kept by herself, and the story of each day written
in a large folio volume which never left her. In addition her literary
labours consisted of a detailed history of her family, in which she was
assisted by Sir Matthew Hale ; she also wrote a memoir of her first
husband, studied diligently, and employed two ladies as readers.
'She had not many books in her chamber,' says a contemporary,
' yet it was dressed up with the flower of the library.' Her waiting
women made extracts of any remarkable passage that occurred
in the course of the day's readiog, affixed these all round her room,
on the walls, the bed and the hangings, thus forming a primitivs
collection of mottoes. She possessed a Uvely memory, imagina-
tion, and a fund of rare philosophy combined with terse wit and
pleasantry.
Dr. Donne, her great friend, declared she could discourse fluently
on any subject, from predestination to China silks. Studies in her
case did not interfere with housewifery, she regarded her dependents
as humble friends, while at the same time she kept a tight hand over
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them. She was as simple in her habits as her rank and riches were
great, ate very sparely, never tasted wine, and after her second widow-
hood wore nothing but black serge. Once every week she sat down
to dinner with the pensioners from her almshouses and conversed
with them kindly.
Seldom did any guest come to her house that did not carry away
s<»ne memento of her hospitality or some badge of friendship, of
which she kept a little well-chosen store by her — carefully fitting the
gift to the recifHent, preparing not what was great, but what would
procure most pleasure to her Mends. This noble lady was singularly
adaptable to the company who came to her house, which was of all
kinds^ travellers, divines, soldiers, merchants, and notable house-
wives. 'Her words,' said one, 'were always savoured with salt,
savoury but not bitter.' Yet her firmness and the tenacity with
which she clung to her rights were indisputable.
On one occasion she brought a suit against a tenant who refused
to provide her with the boon hare, due as well as rent to the land-
lord. She won it at the cost of 2002., and having scored the victory
celebrated it by inviting the tenant to dinner. Then, drawing the
hare which was served as the first dish on the table towards her,
she said amiably to the tenant, ' Mr. Murgatroyd, come, let us be good
friends ; as you allow the hare to be dressed at my table, we'll divide
it between us.'
She died in 1676, in her eighty-sixth year, according to the inscrip-
tion on her tomb, * christianly, willingly, and quietly*'
Mary Rich, Countess of Warwick.
A very interesting little coterie of clever, pious, and charming
women was to be found in Essex between the years 1646 and 1677,
of which the principal leader and shining light was Mary Rich, Lady
Warwick, the ninth daughter and thirteenth child of the great Earl
of Cork, at one period the richest and most powerful man in Ireland,
and a loyal supporter of the King. AU his sons were brave soldiers :
one of them and several sons-in-law were killed in the Ejng's service ;
while for his daughters he arranged splendid marriages. Both in
England and in Ireland he kept up fine and expensive establishments,
bought several estates in England, made gardens, orchards, and
bowling-greens, and allowed his elder daughters 602. weekly for the
household expenses. He entered himself into the smallest domestic
details, kept a strict account of money, rents, and expenses, and
even on the trifling business of his younger daughter Mary's dress he
expended much care and loving attention. We read of the * tafieta,
plush, and sUver bone-lace spangled weighing seventeen punoes,'
and the feather of diamonds and rubies prepared for Mary when
only twelve years old. On another occasion he sent her, when
8 o2
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abflent, little gifts and remembiances, 'gold angels, a cnrious
handkerchief of silk and gold, a pieoe of white damask for Mary's
summer gown, and eighteen yards of figured coloured satin bought
for 9V She, in her turn, gave him nightcaps, ' six laced hand-
kerchiefs, garters, and roses, and the needlework silver purse of her
own making.*
People married young in those days ; Mary's elder sister Sarah
was a wife at twelve. Mrs. Evelyn and Lady Warwick were botli
married at sixteen ; Francis Boyle was only sixteen when he took
Elizabeth Eilligrew, the maid of honour, to wife. Lord Arlington's
daughter was only five when she was married to the Duke of Grafton.
Charles Rich, Lady Warwick's only son, was nineteen and his wife,
Lady Ann Cavendish, sixteen, the young bridegroom dying before
he was twenty-one. It is therefore not surprising to learn that when
Mary was taken up to London to live at a fine house in the Savoy,
at l^e age of fifteen, she was much impressed with the pleasures of
the C!ourt. She says in her autobiography, * I had taken a secret
resolution that if my father died and I was mistress of myself I would
become a courtier.'
Many were the suitors for the young girl's hand ; her father favoured
Mr. James Hamilton, son of Viscount Qandeboye, but for some
reason or other the determined young lady would have none of him.
Lord Cork's style of Uving was splendid, and it was commonly reported
that his daughters were heiresses, which naturally brought o£Eer8
from noblemen and persons of birth and fortune, but Mary, for one
whole year, remained contumacious ; finally she fixed her affection
on the poorest and least desirable of her lovers, Mr. Charles Rich,
second son to the Earl of Warwick, ' a cheerful, handsome, well-bred
and fashioned person,' says Mary, 'and being good company was
very acceptable to us all, and so became very intimate in our house,
visiting us almost every day.' Francis Boyle's wife, Elizabeth
Eilligrew, encouraged his suit, and he, Mary tells us, ' did uncon-
sciously steal away my heart.' Then followed quite a little romance,
Mary fell ill of the smallpox and was isolated from her family. The
ardent lover visited her constantly and was * most diligently careful
of me, which did to a great degree heighten my passion for him.'
Aided by Mary's sister-in-law. Rich's love affair progressed rapidly,
until Lord Cork, being informed of it, ^ with a very frowning and
displeasing look bid her go away into banishment in a Uttle house
near Hampton Court.' Pressed to declare herself, Mary announced
her intention to marry the undesirable young man or none. Finally
consent was given to her marriage, but her dowry reduced to 7,0001.
Even this did not satisfy the impatient young lady, who decided not
to wait for a stately ceremonious wedding, such as her father desired,
but surreptitiously married her lover at the village church of
Shepperton«
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This filial disobedience, then regarded as a very serious nusde-
meanonr, weighed in after years on Mary's spirits. She is perpetually
bemoaning her sin in marrying the man of her choice, who indeed,
though she loved him to the end, proved her punishment, and tried
her sorely with his temper, his violence, and the long years of illness,
coupled with his bad habit of swearing.
She writes thus in her diary :
Let me admire the goodness of God that brought me by my marriage into a
noble and religious £amily where religion was both practised and encouraged,
and where daily there were many eminent and excellent divines who preached
in the chapel most edifyingly and awakeningly to us.
Mary was at that time &r from pious herself. She says :
Young as I was, being but fifteen years old, I could not but admire at the
excellent order there was in the family. When I was married I was as vain,
as idle, as inconsiderate a person as was possible, minding nothing but curious
dressing, and fine and rich clothes, and spending my precious time in nothing
else but reading romances and in reading and seeing plays, and in going to
Court and Hyde Park and Spring Gardens.
Mary Rich now began to pass most of her time at Lees, her father-
in-law's house, which eventually, by the deaths of his father and
elder brother, became Charles Rich's own. It was a fine old priory,
one of the sequestered monks' abodes, surrounded by a large moat,
thick woods and fishponds. The house consisted of two courts,
one outer and one inner, the latter faced with freestone, opening on
to the gardens. Robert Boyle, her brother, always spoke of it as
* that delicious Lees,' and a friend of Lord Warwick's once said,
* He has good reason to make sure of heaven, for he would be a great
loser in changing so charming an abode for hell.' Lady Warwick,
when she came to be mistress there, made out of a grove of trees
a wilderness or place of retirement for meditation and called it Enoch's
Walk. Charles Howe remarked once that ' There is no garden well
conserved that hath not an Enoch's walk in it,' and in this green
promenade Lady Warwick spent the fresh hours of the early morning
and foimd her * heart-ease ' or prayer abounding. Contrary to the
habit of many religious people. Lady Warwick sought her hours of
meditation out of doors. An ardent lover of nature, she notices aU
the pretty sights and trivial beauties of the coimtryside ; she admires
the flowers, the trees, the birds and insects, and when living at Chelsea
after her marriage ^ in the morning as soon as up, she retires to the
gardens ' (Sir Hans Sloane's gardens), ' to meditate in the open air,
where God gave earnest breathings after a near communion with
Him, and my soul was as it were ravished with desire to converse
with Him in soUtude, and I did with plenty of tears beg for a soul
sick of love for my lovely Lord Jesus.'
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But •everal years elapsed before Lady Warwick's oonveision
to this new life, which originated partly in the loss of her only son
and partly in the tender pleadings of her favourite sister ' Ranelagh,*
as she always styles her. Eatherine, wife of Lord Ranelagh, also
married at fifteen, and is described by her friend, Sir John Leake,
as having ' the sweetest face I ever saw, and a more brave wench
or braver spirit you have not often met withal. She hath a
memory that will hear a sermon and go home and pen it after dinner
verbatim.' ^
Lord Ranelagh was a very different kind of person : of him
Sir John Leake says : * He is the foulest churl in the world ; he hath
only one virtue, that he seldom oometh sober to bed.' Lord Cork,
however, speaks of him as 'honest Arthur Jones.' The influence
of this beloved sister, and perhaps her own disillusionment with
her love marriage, and her disapproval of the laxity and vices of
the C!ourt, finally induced Lady Warwick to go down alone to Lees,
where she meditated in solitude and silence on the mysteries of religion,
placing herself in the hands of Dr. Walker, Lord Warwick's chaplain
and afterwards rector of Fyfield in Essex, Mary's &ithful friend
and adviser to the end of her life.
Now began her unbroken career of piety — a piety which resembled
that of Madame Ouyon and the ladies of Port Royal, and was a
curious mixture of Puritanic austerity and passionate ecstasy of
fervour.
She devoted the rest of her life to deeds of charity and the prac-
tice of benevolence ; gave lavishly to the poor, clothed and kept
children at school that they might acquire a good education, and
started them happily in the world. For hers was no gloomy fenaticism,
but the religion of a sweet sympathetic soul. ' I tell you,' she says,
' it is our duty to make all men as happy as possible.'
Notwithstanding her ardent desire to save her soul, prayers
and sermons failed to induce any neglect of her domestic and house-
wifery duties, which she calls in her quaint language, ' her lawful
and necessary employments.' She even goes to Court occasionally
when advisable for her lord's business, though after her visits there
and her talks with the Queen she invariably remarks : ' I come from
thence much more confirmed in my opinion that there was more
holiness in a retired life than in a Court one, the glory of which I found
my heart not at all taken with.' On another occasion, after going
to Court, she writes : ' I did not find my heart at all to dose with
or be pleased with anything I saw there.'
Lady Warwick's society at Lees was very different. A number
of noble ladies, many of them her friends and neighbours, practised
philanthropy as well as herself. Of such were Lady Dawes, Lady
Mordaunt, a woman of great piety. Lady Maynard, a saintiy creature,
Lady Vere, Lady Everard, Lady Honywood, and Lady Barrington.
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Luoy, Lady Amndel, was said to have wrought marvellous cures
and turned her house into a veritable hospital for the siok. She fed
twenty persons a day at her table, for oharity was a more personal
matter then than it is now, gave alms at the gate, and dinners
once a week to over a hundred poor people. She went about
herself, clothed in cheap black stufi, and wore as only jewel round
her neck a gold cross containing a relic. For twenty years she
never used a looking-glass and never changed the fashion of her
dress.
Lady Francis Hobart, another great lady, ceased from the date
of her husband's death ever to wear a silk dress. He had been
devotedly attached to his pious wife, and called her * My dear saint,'
in playful allusion to her oharity and austerity.
Lady Langham was accustomed, before she went out for a walk,
to furnish, what she styled, her ^ poor man's purse ' in order to meet
the wants of any needy person she might encounter, and Lady Eliea-
beth Broke was so generous that it was never a question as to whether
she would give, but only how much. ' Her generosity is such,' we
are told, ' that one would have imagined there was no room for her
alms, and her charity was such that it was matter of wonder she
could thus nobly entertain her friends.' HospitaUty in those days
was a real virtue, and the record of friends coming and going, and
the entertainment of them with beautiful living and pleasant discourse
formed one of the heaviest tasks of hostesses. Lady Warwick herself
had decided social gifts, and was a neighbour ' so kind and courteous
that it advanced the rent of the adjacent houses to be situated near
hers. Not only her house and table, but her countenance and her
very heart were open to all persons of worth in a considerable neigh-
bourhood,' says one who knew her welL
She had a great admiration and regard for the clergy. Besides
the society of her spiritual adviser and chaplain. Dr. Walker, she
sought also that of the neighbouring vicars, and of eminent divines
like Bishops Ken, Stillingfleet, Kidder, &c. ; she also read and medi-
tated upon Baxter, Jeremy Taylor, George Herbert, Samuel Ruther-
ford, Bishop Stillingfleet, St. Augustine and other well-known writers,
and in her ideal of the simple life endeavoured daily to practise their
rules and advice. Some of the expressions in her diary are quaint
and beautiful ; she prays Gkxl will ' blow these languid sparks in my
breast into most blazing flames,' or talks ' of her divine gusto ' and
of 'storming heaven by her importunate prayers,' or wishes that
she may ' find life in patience, death in desire.' ' Oh ! let me live
with dying thoughts that I may die with strong hopes and spread
my sails for heaven.' *' Let me never keep back the rent, but yearly
pay thee all the grief I am able for having been so ungratefid as to
stout it out against thee.'
It must never be forgotten that these ladies were not country
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bumpkinB wanting anj outside interests. Lady Warwick was a
petBona grata at C!ourt, constantly journeyed to London, and in the
affairs of her complicated business as executor to her husband, was
forced to go into all kinds of uncongenial company and to mix un-
willingly in the society of people who were out of sympathy with her.
Her relations and favourite friends were all women of title, and
she gave good advice even to men of the world like Lord George
Berkeley, who were not repulsed by her plain speaking, but
listened patiently to her words. She was constantly looking after
and marrying her nieces, attending them in sickness, and being present
at births and burials.
Curious indeed are some of the household cares with which she
occupies herself, such as visiting the stiU- woman who was ill, cate-
chising, reproving and counselling the servants, who were expected
to repeat the sermon, or talking to and seriously preparing Lawrence
the footman for receiving the Holy Sacrament. Such care had
she for the souls of her dependents, whom she always speaks of affec-
tionately as * my family,' or as ^ one that was under my care,' that
she took all these responsibilities very seriously and was wont 'to
scatter good books in all the common rooms and places of waiting,
that those who waited might not lose their time, but have a bait
laid to catch them.'
In 1667 we hear of her dining at the Lord Chamberlain's, kissing
the King and Queen's hands, and staying at Court till pretty late.
Again she speaks of being civilly received by the King, Queen and
Duchess, but came home without ' having my heart at all affected
with the splendour of the Court, and was much more inclined to
pity than to envy their lives.'
' There is more happiness in retirement,' she writes, ' and a child
of Qod should outshine the Queen and her ladies.'
Meanwhile she had much ado to be patient and keep her temper
with her husband, who for twenty-five years suffered terribly from
the gout and caused her great sorrow by his bad language ; repeatedly
she speaks of begging for him with ' very great plenty of tears, groans
and sighs,' or she prayed Gkxi ' to forgive my poor husband lus swear-
•ing and to give him patience that the house might be perfumed with
prayers and not be made terrible by his oaths.'
Lord Warwick, however, had some virtues; he was hospitable,
generous, cultivated, graceful, large-minded and attractive. His
hospitality even verged on extravagance, for he had 'five tables
covered twice daily in the week, fit to receive as great men as himself,
with suitable attendance, come when they would; his household
was served by well-bom and accomplished civil gentlemen, and he
had singular art and care in governing his family well.'
Lady Warwick, as sole executress, lived at Lees after her husband's
death, and reduced no whit the style and splendour of her house-
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hold, regarding it as a legacy from him. She repaired the farms
and kept up the estates even at a loss to her own personal interests,
in order to do honour to his name and family, but slacked in no manner,
notwithstanding the amount of business all this entailed upon her,
the prayers, devotions, and religious discipline which she had imposed
upon herself. To the end of her life she continued unwearied in good
deeds. One of the last entries in her diary speaks of happy fervour,
of * soul joy ' and serene faith and confidence.
Her death was as peaceful as the last days of her life ; she only
suffered from an aguish distemper for a fortnight, and during a prayer
offered up in her chamber by her old friend Dr. Walker, she fetched
' on a sudden a deep groan.' Her women flew to her side ; as she
had often desired, she died praying.
Mrs. Walker.
Mrs. Walker and her husband, the Rev. Dr. Walker, Lady
Warwick's chaplain and best friend, were a notable couple too. Mrs.
Walker lived the true religious life of the Puritan woman. She was
a typical clergyman's wife, an exceptionally happy and busy person,
loving her husband with a &ithful sincerity. He wrote her memoirs
after her death from the papers she left behind, and they give us
a true and valuable picture of the life and usages of the period.
She ruled her house with diligence ; out of the ample knowledge she
possessed, she instructed her maids in cookery, baking, dairy-work,
and the care of the linen, in which her love of neatness was exception**
ally curious. She exhorted her children to cultivate this as a virtue,
for, said she, ^ Not aU neat women are good, but all good women
are neat,' a pretty maxim that might well be inculcated on the
present generation.
Like the capable women of that day, she was feared as well as
loved. *When she stood up,' we are told, *in her pew to frown
down whisperers in the sermon, she struck awe into their souls.'
She was skilled both as a physician and surgeon, and possessed valu-
able recipes for distilled waters, ointments and plasters. She made
conserves, deUcate pastry, and fragrant cream-cheeses, both for
home use and as presents to friends. Her gooseberry wine, like
that of the Vicar of Wakefield's wife, was famous ; and as for her
cider, it won the encomiums of all the neighbours. With innocent
self-appreciation she would never allow her husband any credit
for it.
* His cider ! ' she would say, mockingly, * 'Tis my cider ; I have
aU the pains and care, and he hath all the praise who never meddles
with it I '
She was as skilled in needlework as though she had been bred
in a convent, and she read aloud beautifully with the careful modula-
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810 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Nov.
tion of a practised olooatiomBt. She began and ended tihe day in
prayer and praise. When the children had retired to bed, husband
and wife engaged in prayer together in the study; after this she.
would, with her own bands, bring him his evening meal — a loving
service she never delegated to any hired domestic. Her own
abstemiousness was so great that the only meal she regularly partook
of was dinner. When she walked to church she was always accom-
panied by aU her maids, ' that they might not stay loitering at home
or by the way.'
Dr. and Mrs. Walker kept up one pretty practice. They always
celebrated the anniversary of their wedding-day, on which occasion
a haunch of venison from Lady Warwick's park graced the board,
where was also conspicuously placed a dish of pies made by lbs.
Walker herself, answering to the number of years of their married
life. On the last occasion there were thirty-nine pies, all made by
the hand on which a wedding-ring had been placed the same number
of years before.
She was also very charitable, and would even go out at night
to nurse a sick person. Her dress was always good, neat and black,
her figure slight, her manner quick and vivacious, and her character
marked by decision and energy. She possessed one of those remark-
able personalities which seem now to be extinct, and she had a store
of pithy maxims always ready to hand.
Mbs. Evelyn.
Mrs. Evelyn has become mainly celebrated through her husband's
diary. Her home life, however, is a typical one. The daughter of
Sir Richard Browne, ambassador in Paris, she married Mr. Evelyn,
a plain country gentleman, when only sixteen, and passed her days
at Sayes Court, her father's house, where her husband's diary was
written and the famous gardens made.
Sayes Court was a small house, strangely unsuited to an ambas-
sador, for it consisted only of two stories. On the groxmd floor was
a hall, a parlour, kitchen and buttery, a larder, a chamber and three
cellars ; while above were eight chambers, four closets, and three
garrets ; yet in this limited space lived, at one time, in harmony and
happiness, not only the Evelyns and the Brownes, but also a brother
of Lady Browne's and his family. Such arrangements were common
enough in that day. They conduced to economy and to cheerful
society. Life was simpler and more patriarchal; maids and mistresses
mixed together, and were consequently better friends.
As an example of kindly equality, Lady T<angham called her maids
early, ' that she might be sure that they had time for their private
devotions.'
Lady Alice Lucy used to join in the psalms and hymns with
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which the maids and men made the old hall resound at night,
and many noble ladies lived thus indifEerently, surrounded by their
households.
Mrs. Evelyn herself was an experienced housewife, and her husband
has left us a charming description of the old-fashioned habits of that
time, when
men conrted and ohose their wivos for their frugality, modesty, keeping at
home, good housewifery, and other economies, virtues then in reputation, and
the young damsels were taught all these in their country and in their parents'
houses ; they had cuphoards of ancient and useful plate, whole chests of damask
for tables, and stores of fine holland sheets, white as the driven snow and
fragrant of rose and lavender for the bed ; and the sturdy oaken bedstead and
furniture of the house lasted one whole century ; the shovel board and other
long tables both in haU and in parlour were as fixed as the freehold, nothing
was movable save joint-stools, black-jacks, and silver bowls. 'Twas then
ancient hospitality was kept up in town and country, the poor were relieved
bountifully, and charity was as warm as the kitchen, where the fire was
perpetual.
Women reared in such houses were possei^ed of a stability, a
discretion, and a sense that we seek for now in vain ; their domestic
virtues did not obscure their intelligence, and the society they mixed
with, in the case of the Evelyns at least, was the best obtainable
intellectually, artistically, and socially. The women fully held their
own both in conversation and letter-writing, and their hospitality
was unbounded and disinterested. It was often accepted by royalty
and extended to savants, divines, and men of letters. At Sayes
Court was to be found a charming company, the friends of Mrs.
Evelyn, the delightful Margaret Blagge, afterwards Mrs. Godolphin,
late a maid of honour and celebrated as an amateur actress, charming,
radiant and accomplished, who died at the early age of twenty-five.
Evelyn calls her the ' sprightly saint, for she was as good and religious
as she was amiable.'
He also describes the performance at Court of a comedy by the
Duke of York's two daughters, afterwards Queen Mary and Queen
Anne, and
my dear friend Mrs. Blagge, who having the principal part performed to
admiration. They were all covered with jewels. . . . Mrs. Blagge had about
her neck 20,000Z. worth of jewels, of which she lost one worth about 80Z.,
borrowed of the Countess of Suffolk. The press was so great, 't is a wonder
she lost no more. The Duke of York made it good.
Other notable friends of Mrs. Evelyn were Jeremy Taylor the
great divine, Lady Sunderland, Lady Mordaunt, a very pious woman,
who gave Evelyn on the occasion of her visit 1002. for the release
of the prisoners of the war. Lady Langham, Sir Henry Capel, &c.
Mrs. Godolphin's death proved the greatest grief to the Eveljms.
He regarded her as his most beloved friend, and she was dear to his
wife and afiectionate to his children.
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812 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Not.
Mr. and Mis. Evelyn were the parents of a wonderful cliild, a
prodigy of learning and piety, who at two and a half years of age
ooold read English and Frenoh, Latin and the Grothic characters at
four. The childish brain was, however, perhaps too precocious
and too much forced, for the child died at five years old. Evelyn
thus describes him : ^ For beauty of body, a very angel ; for endow-
ment of mind, of incredible and rare hopes.'
Another daughter of the Evelyns died at the age of nineteen,
of the smallpox, to the inexpressible grief of her parents. She
seems to have been as gifted and delightful as her younger brother
Evelyn says ^ the justness of her stature, person, comeliness of coun-
tenance, gracefulness of motion, unaffected though more than ordinary
beautiful, were the least of her ornaments compared with those of her
mind.' Though extremely accomplished, knowing French and Italian,
dancing, playing and singing on the harpsichord, with a talent
for * rehearsing a comical part or poem,' reading serious books such
as Terence, Plautus, Homer, Ovid, yet < the cheerfulness of her humour,
and her unaffected and deep piety, and her love of little children
with whom she played so prettily, and caressed and humoured with
great delight, endeared her to all.'
Though she knew the Court well, and ^ Lady Clarendon designed
to have made her maid of honour to the Queen, she did not set her
heart upon it or anything as much as the service of God, a quiet and
regular life, and how she might improve herself in the most necessary
accomplishments.'
Another daughter, Suzanna, was married to Mr. William Draper.
Her portion of 4,00W. was given her by her father, who says * She
is a good child, religious, discreet, ingenious, and qualified with all
the ornaments of her sex. She has a peculiar talent in design and
in painting in oil and miniature, and an extraordinary genius for
whatever hands can do with a needle. She has the French tongue,
has read most of the Greek and Boman authors and poets, using
her talents with great modesty, exquisitely shaped and of an agree-
able countenance.' Mr. and Mrs. Evelyn accompanied their daughter
after her wedding to her husband's house, at Ascombe, near Croydon.
' There we left her in her apartment, very richly adorned and furnished,
and I hope in as happy a condition as could be wished.'
Finally the Drapers came, with Mr. Draper's mother, to live at
Sayes Court, where each pair kept their coach with 'as suitable
an equipage as any in the town.'
Later on the Evelyns removed to Wotton and let Sayes Court
to Admiral Benbow. The admiral then sublet the place to the Czar
of Bussia, Peter, who worked sad havoc there. Evelyn thus de-
scribes the terrible damage done to the pretty house : ' The doors
were broken, the floors inked, the Dutch tiles cracked, the firdrons,
stove, and stone floors broken, the curtains torn, the hangings
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1905 SEVENTEENTH-GENTUBY HOUSEWIVES 818
staiiiedy Turkey carpet mined, crcx^kery and furniture and the garden
completely ruined, and all was desolation where once all had been
beauty.*
Especially did Mr. Eveljni regret the destruction of the famous
holly hedge, in which he took a great pride. The Czar Peter, it
seems, had amused himself by riding through it in a wheelbarrow —
a senseless and childish recreation.
Mr. and Mrs. Eveljni were constantly at Court, and Mrs. Evelyn
also entertained the Queen at Deptford, ^ for which Her Majesty
gave me thanks in the withdrawing-room at Whitehall,' writes her
husband. The worthy pair were much in company of the Countess
of Sunderland and of Lady Clarendon, whose house at Swallowfield
they visited, expressing themselves as much pleased with the garden,
in the care and upkeep of which Lady Clarendon was highly skilled.
There they saw an * orchard, of 1,000 golden and cider pippins, noble
orangeries well furnished, the garden so beset with all manner of
sweet shrubs that it perfumed the air, and the canal and fishponds
well and plentifully stocked with fish. The waters are flagged about
with ^^ calamus aromaticus," with which my lady has hung a closet
which retains the smell very perfectly.'
Ann, Lady Sunderland, Uved at Althorpe, and there too the Evelyns
were often hospitably received. It was a house, or rather palace, with
rooms of state, galleries, offices, furniture, such as may become a great prince,
and, what is above all this, governed by a lady who, without any show of
solicitude, keeps everything in such an admirable order, both within and with-
out, from the garret to the cellar, that I do not believe there is any in this
nation or in any other that exceeds in such exact order, without ostentation,
but substantially noble and great. The meanest servant is lodged so cleanly,
the service at several tables, the good order and decency, in a word, the entire
economy is perfectly becoming a noble and wise person. She is one who, for
her distinguished esteem of me, from a long and worthy friendship, I must ever
honour and celebrate.
Mrs. Evelyn possessed as good manners and had as good tact
as her husband; the daughter of an ambassador and the habituie
of the French Court, even before her marriage her society was
sought eagerly and intimately by the noble and the great. She
and her husband had similar tastes and congenial dispositions. She
was extremely beautifuL Of this an excellent drawing by the cele-
brated French artist Nanteuil gives us a good idea. The tutor who
resided in her family for some time, and to whom, as to the servants,
a woman is rarely a heroine, describes her as ^ the best of daughters
and wives, the most tender of mothers, and the most amiable of
friends.'
Her skill in drawing and painting was considerable. Li addition
she was a constant reader and an admirable housewife.
Much of the principles and conduct displayed by these ladies
was due to the advice and the ideal held up before them by their
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814 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Nov.
favourite divines, and to the importance and honour attached by
these to the duties of housewifery. Jeremy Taylor says :
Let women of noble birth and great fortune be pmdent and carefol in (heir
employment and traffic of time, in their proportions and capacities ; norse their
ehildren, look to the afibirs of the house, visit poor cottagers and relieye their
necessities, be oonrteons to the neighbourhood, learn in silence of their
husbands or their spiritual guides, read good books, pray often, speak little ;
' Learn to do good works for necessary uses,' for by that phrase St. Paul expresses
the obligation of Christian women to good housewifery and charitable provisions
for their family and neighbourhood.
VlOLBT GbSVILLB.
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1905
OUT ON THE 'NEVER NEVER'
Out on the wastes of the Never Never,
That's where the dead men lie ;
That's where the heat waves danoe for ever,
That's where the dead men lie ;
That's where the earth's loved sons are keeping
Endless tryst ; not the west wind, sweeping
Feverish pinions, can wake their sleeping —
Ont where the dead men lie.
A MI80UIDSD young Scot, at the commencement of the seven years'
diooght, came to a North Queensland sheep station in search of
a fortune. Shortly after his arrival he announced to the station
manager his intention of returning to his native land. The country,
he said, in awestruck tones, was ' too vast.' The reason does not at
first sight seem conclusive, but anyone who has been on the great
western plains, and has his faculty of imagination sufficiently developed
to project the hot dusty landscape, with its brown grass and dancing
mirage, for htmdreds of miles on every side ; who has realised that
the plains are flanked by yet wider wastes of forest, where great
gaunt gums cast their scant shade upon the tussocky earth, and where
an undergrowth is formed of trees in various stages of adolescence,
can sympathise with the young Scot. For days and weeks it is pos-
sible to ride, and see, as through a kaleidoscope, bush, plain, and
sandy creek, in ever-changing sameness. Queensland is indeed vast,
with a vastness that impresses, and at times appals, the imagination.
Even to well-informed people North Queensland is little more than
a name, while a large number in Australia regard it as the ' Never
Never' of the Blacks — a land where there is little water and less
life, where the over-brave sleep in the sun by the side of their skeleton
horses, and where the basaltic rocks and stunted bush are interspersed
with spinifex and sand. Neither in England nor in Australia
does North Queensland receive the attention it merits, for it is so
rich in mineral wealth, and possesses a soil so prolific, that full develop-
ment must needs be only a matter of time, and when developed the
North will become a much valued part of the Commonwealth. There
are already variations of development, as marked as the differences
815
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816 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Nov.
in climate and in phjrsical conditions. On the coast the long stretches
of palm scrab, indicative of great atmospheric humidity, have been
deaied into a fertile field for the cultivation of sugar, coffee, cotton,
and other tropical products. So far this cultivation has been chiefly
effected by coloured laboui organised by white men, or by the Chinese,
who evade the Commonwealth legislation against aliens holding
property by leasing from white faggot-owners uncleared land which
they rapidly plant with bananas.^ It is a matter of common know-
ledge that these Chinese agriculturists are not only satisfied with the
conditions of their life in North Queensland, but are amassing con-
siderable fortunes. At the same time they provide the chief trade
for at least one northern port, and they are, in some cases, the actual
employers of white labour. But, putting aside this strange industrial
development, it is not yet clear whether the seaboard of North Queens-
land is fitted for white agricultural labour. Speaking generally,
the weight of opinion is unfavourable north of Townsville, while
to the south the rapid increase of smaU sugar farmers points to an
opposite conclusion. The fertile scrubland does not stretch the
whole length of the seaboard, but this fact has not retarded the
growth of ports of varying sizes. The most important of these are
Townsville, with a population of 13,000, which is the outlet pf an
extensive sugar-growing, mining, and grazing district ; Mackay, with
back country carrying about 15,000 people ; and Cairns, with a local
population of 7,000, the natural outlet for the rich mining district
around the Gulf of Carpentaria — a gulf so large that it has been said
that England might be placed within its waters and a ship sail around
it out of sight of land. Close behind the seaboard is the mountain
range that runs along the eastern length of Australia from Cape
York into Victoria, and which contains in North Queensland an
extraordinarily varied nuihber of minerals. There the muggy heat
of the coast is changed for a clear dry atmosphere — ^hot in the day-
time, but often in places dropping below freezing point at night.
Behind the ranges is the pastoral country, falling far back towards
the South Australian border — ^into the * Never Never.*
And yet the * Never Never ' when sought for seems to have become
like the fabled land of Lyonesse. When I asked the inhabitants of
the outpost Queensland township of Camooweal if they were in that
wonderful country, they indignantly repudiated the idea. It is true
that they were almost a fortnight's journey from the coast, yet beyond
them, they said, a long chain of pastoral stations stretched into the
fertile plains of Central Australia. Despite their protest, however,
> At the end of 1905, it has been estimated, there will be 47,500 aores of sugar
lands coltiyated by white laboar in Queensland, and 78,000 by blaok laboar. The
estimated production is 183,000 tons~75,000 tons by white and 110,000 by black
labour. Australia this year will produce all its own consumption of sugar. The
cultivation of bananas, a very large and profitable industry, is almost without any
exception in the hands of the Ohinese.
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1906 OUT ON TEE 'NEVER NEVER' 817
and without anything but respect for the brave men and women who
are winning a new jewel for the crown of the Empire, the country in
which they live may still be called by its old name. But the railwajrs
are every year stretching fresh tendrils over the continent, and where-
ever they go they change the face of the land. The townships they
touch b^K)me more and more like the seaports, and the inhabitants
lose those characteristics which differentiate them from the cosmo-
politans of Sydney and London. To adopt an elusive bush idiom, the
railways bring the country * inside' ; but an * outside' country still exists,
and with that country, and its people, this article is chiefly concerned.
A wise friend once warned the writer never to mention distances
to Enj^h people, to whom size appears as incomprehensible as the
fourth dimension, while a popular canon of St. Paul's is reported to
have said, as the result of long experience, that he confidently expected
the statement from every Colonial bishop he met that the particular
bishop's diocese was so many times larger than England. The
multiple varied, but the comparison remained unchanged. It there-
fore requires a certain amount of moral courage for a Colonial bishop
to call attention to the fact that Australia is essentially a land of
far distances, and that this is perhaps more obviously true in Queens-
land than ^ down below ' as we not over-politely call the Southern
States. The size of Northern ^ selections,' for instance, is proverbial
throughout the Commonwealth, yet probably few Australians reijise
that there are outpost cattle stations each including country to the
extent of between 1,800 and 3,000 square miles.^ These stations can
be reached, if they are not too far out, by coach and waggon, but
there comes a point when both these means of locomotion must give
place to saddle and pack horse.
Along the coaching roads there are usually small wooden inns
or shelter-houses made indiscriminately of roof-iron, canvas, dried
boughs, or hessian stretched over a wooden framework. Here food,
and a limited supply of beds, can be obtained ; but these adjuncts of
civilisation soon disappear in North Queensland, and the traveller
must carry his own ' tucker ' and * swag,' or in other words must
provide his own food, and carry a blanket, rolled up in a square of
canvas, which will form his seat every mealtime and his bed at night.
His culinary utensils are equally simple. All that he requires is a
billy-can to boil the water, a pannikin to hold his tea, a knife, a fork,
and a plate — although the fork and the plate are usually omitted for
an obvious reason. Bread can be baked, and meat can be cooked to
perfection, in the white aromatic ashes of the eucalyptus wood from
which the camp fires are made.
' ' Calton Hills ' has 1,800 square miles of ooontry and * Bocklands ' 8,000 square
miles. The latter estate is partly in North Queensland and partly in the northern
territory of South Australia. These figures were supplied to the writer by the
managers of the respective stations.
Vol. LVm— No. 346 3 E
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818 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Nov.
Some of the pleasantest memories of the writer's life are assooiated
with suchjoumeTS outside the oirole of civilisation. It is an nnwritten
law that the traveller must never go past water in the afternoon,
unless he is certain of reaching another spring, or waterhde, before
sundown. A breach of this law brings its own punishment, for a
* dry camp ' is not a pleasant experience. But after the hoises have
been watered, the wood gathered, the camp fire lifted, the meal
prepared and eaten, there is perhaps no rest so pleasant as that ob-
tained by lying upon the ground with a bundle of blankets for an
arm-rest and the flickering fire making an arched chamber out of the
soft darkness of the tropical night. Many strange men have gathered
around those fires, and, having partaken of simple hospitality, have
abundantly repaid their host with the strangest tales and the most
independent criticisms. The conversation of one untidy old buahman
occurs at the moment. He was ccnnmenting upon the evil of railway
construction, and opined that when the country was thus opened for
commerce it was ruined, and that the time had come for him to ^ make
tracks into the back blocks.' His reason for HialiViTig steam loco-
motion was even more unique than his prejudice against it. It may
sound more impressive in his own words : ^ Bishop, do you know
as whenever a railway starts there's alius a murder ! ' I remarked
that I had not noticed the immediate connection between murder
and locomotives, although I believed that railway accidents were
not infrequently fatal ; my amendment was firmly put aside, — * But
there is, I tell yer. Why, on the very day the Chillagoe line was opened
there was a man murdered his mate in Rockhampton. I tdl yer
there's no good in railways. They're no use to Australia.' Needless
to say, I did not mention that the coincidence was imknown to me.
Neither did I draw attention to the additional fact that Chillagoe
railway station is separated by full five hundred miles of mountain
and sea from the scene of the alleged murder. My friend is still
^ outside,' strong doubtless in his convictions, and outside he will
probably remain until he is brought in to the Townsville Hospital to
die, unless perhaps he starts his final journey alone from the bank 6t
some waterhole on the threshold of the * Never Never.' It is a usual
custom of mine to have evening prayer wherever I may be at night,
and never have I had more reverent fellow-worshippers than those
rough and solitary dwellers in a barren and dry land where no water is.
After prayers, and a final pipe, we would roll in our blankets, say good-
night, and sleep dreamlessly under a wide and starry sky until waked
by daybreak — ^and the files.
Provided that there is fairly good water, there is no real hardship
• in all this for nine months of the year. The climate in the West
is dry and bright, although at times very hot by day or very cold by
night according to the season. There are no noisome beasts, with the
exception perhaps of a few dingoes, who may yelp at the fire fr«n
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1906 OUT ON THE 'NEVER NEVER* 819
a safe distance. The snakes, numerous as they undoubtedly are,
usually share the human disclination for company. Mosquitoes
are not very plentiful away from the coast, but the flies, especially on
the plains, are appalling. They are there in myriads : they attack
the eyes ; they crawl up the nostrils and into the ears ; they fight
angrily for their share of the food. In short they are a pest to man
and beast. One thing alone can be said in their favour — they rest
at night ; but as soon as the first curve of the sun appears above the
horizon they rise in clouds from the earth to reconmience their daily
task of persecution.
An attractive feature of the far west is the absence of fear in
animals. To a certain extent absence of fear is a characteristic of
all the Australian fauna, and it must need a very stem sportsman
to shoot a native bear, which, without the slightest attempt at
escape, turns upon the gum-tree bough to look with puzzled wistfulness
at the strange creature below. The same is true to a less degree of that
most inquisitive among animals, the kangaroo. Kangaroos have
been known to come almost within ^ putting distance ' of a traveller,
but the kangaroo shooter is rapidly discouraging marsupial curiosity,
and at the same time is reducing the number of these interesting
survivals of a bygone age. Australian birds are equally feariess.
Travelling in the far north-west of Queensland in 1904, I camped
for a night by a creek where a small trough contained the only surface
water for probably twenty or thirty miles around. The next morning
while I performed my toilet at the rough basin there were beside me
thousands of tiny painted finches, ignorant of the uncertain temper
of man, who took no more notice of me than of some friendly animal.
They ahnost disputed for the complete possession of their bathing
pond as they played and flirted in the water beside me. The whole
scene was radiant with joy and beauty. Added to all this there
is a natural charm in the bush which it is difficult to explain. Mr.
Rowland, in The New Nation, writes :
Unattractive as much Australian scenery is in the day, night, even in the
barest parts of the bnsh, has a bewitching charm. The bright clear air, the
brilliancy of the moonlight, the aroma of the gum-leaves and the wattle-blossom,
the sense of infinite extent and infinite repose given by the utter stillness and
loneliness of the whole fragrant scene — these are among the things that endear
his country to the patriotic Australian, and make him, though he may linger
among the * pleasures and palaces' of Europe, return to his native bush
declaring * there is no place like home.'
The remaining three months of the year present to those who
move about the country discomforts and dangers difficult to realise
except by experience. The tropical rainy season normally commences
in January and ends in April. During that period the traveller by
coaoh must be prepared to work hard breaking with a tomahawk
the heavy black soil which every few yards cakes so thick upon the
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wheels that the7 cannot revolve. The luckless workman drags the
while at his own feet an ever-gathering load of mother earth, and after
a day's fatigue throws his blanket upon the sodden ground only to
sink deeper and deeper into his own form until the morning brings
the grey light of another muggy day. During the wet season the
wide dry sandy watercourses of winter are changed into raging, rushing
rivers. It needs some courage to face a river a mile wide, even tiiou^
the greater part of that distance can easily be forded. Still more
discouiaging are the narrow creeks with narrower crossings, and
at such crossings the horses' heads must resolutely be kept up stream,
or all will drift to death among the uprooted trees lying hidden beneath
the surging flood. One Sunday morning last summer one of my
clergy put his horse to a certain flooded river that separated him fnHn
the Hodgldnson Gold Field, where he was to give a monthly service.
The water was deeper than it appeared to be, and both horse and
rider were quickly struggling in the stream. Happily the riv^
was wide and clear of snags, but it was over a mile before the
rider, taking advantage of a projecting tree bough, was able to
steer his almost beaten steed into a backwash and so to reach the
shore. The pair landed upon the same bank from which they had
entered the water, and as a second attempt to cross seemed inad-
visable, there was no hope of reaching the Hodgldnson that day.
The redoubtable cleric, however, after a brief survey of the situation,
decided to ride to another township on the same side of the river;
there, to the surprise of the inhabitants, he conducted a service.
The surprise, it is only fair to say, was solely due to the unexpected
nature of the service, while it is not a little interesting to record that
the only local comments upon the adventurous ride, I have since
heard, have been concerned with the horse and not with the rider.
Even the wet season has some compensations. There is plenty of
water, and scarcity of water at other times is the greatest danger the
bushman has to meet. It goes without saying that in the dry season
the water is frequently far from good. During a recent journey I
had one night to choose between the respective merits of two small
and excessively dirty pools in a sandy river bottom. In one pool
there was a dead bullock, and the other was covered with green sHme.
Needless to say, I chose the latter, and, having skimmed the surface,
filled my ^billycan' with unsavoury water. The tea, I remember,
was a Uttle thick-4>ut we were very thirsty. On the same journey
there were several dry stages of over thirty miles in length, and we
counted ourselves happy, not only that the stages were so short,
but even more that we never failed to find water. The track we
travelled has been called locally a road of death, and it has justified
its name by tiie long tale of bushmen, travelling alone, who have
perished near by from thirst. The manner in which these meet ihm
death is probably distressingly simple. The waterhole relied upon
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is dijy the real track is missed, or the horses are lost. The last of
these disasters is the most common. When a camp is made at night
the horses are dal7 watered, hobbled, and turned out to pick up a
meal for themselves. They usually feed back along the road by which
they came, and it is surprising how far a hobbled horse can travel by
little leaps through tiie night. At earUest daybreak the bushman
sets out to find the horses. Wonderfully quick in eye and ear, he can
see the faintest track and hear tiie softest sound. But some morning
there is no track to see, and no sound to hear, and then he wanders
farther and farther in his search, until the bush swallows him up.
He decides to return to his camp to make a fresh start, but cannot
find his trail, the trees are all alike, and there are no natural land-
marks. Suddenly the horror of his position strikes him, and he hurries
forward with a dreadful inclination towards the right or the left,
upon the circular track which ends in death. This is no imaginary
case. It is one that is repeated over and over again.
One of the most beautiful adjuncts of the western plain is the
mirage, which seldom deceives a real bushman imless he is looking for
water he knows is not far away. In North Queensland the mirage
most frequently takes the shape of a lake lying without a ripple in
the sunshine. The trees— real trees— -are seen inverted in the hot
layer of air next the ground, as clearly as Friar's Crag is seen reflected
in the still bosom of Derwentwater. Lately driving on the hot Clon-
curry road, in clouds of dust that at times enveloped and hid the
leaders' heads, I saw a mile away the replica of Lake Wendaree in
Victoria. But the mile when travelled only brought another reach
of dusty, sun-baked, scantily timbered country, and the phantom
lake, bearing another and unfamiliar shape, lay a mile ahead. At
other times, however, the mirage takes the form of the drifting smoke
of one of those terrible fires that leap at horseman speed over the plains.
It is hard for a stranger to beheye that there is no fire when the smoke
looks so real, and Uke another traveller he turns aside to see the strange
sight. The great AustraUan painter of the future must certainly
reckon with the mirage, for it makes houses on the plains look like
indistinct masses of forest upon the horizon, and plants the trees like
phantom mangrove swamps by patches of silvery water.
The loneliness of the far western bush is almost past beUef . It is
possible to ride or drive the whole day along a beaten track without
meeting a soUtary soul, or without seeing a single sign of human
habitation. The boundary rider of a cattle station may do his work
day after day, and only speak to a fellow-man in his fortnightly or
monthly visit to headquarters for rations. A groom at one of the
mail changes on the track to Camooweal once told me that he could
never reckon upon seeing a fellow-creature except twice in each week,
and that was when the mail-man, on his bi-weekly journey, stayed for
half an hour to change horses. It is not surprising, therefore, to
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learn that some of these solitaries oome to resent the vudt of strangers
in a similar spirit to that which made a disturber of traffic out of a
lighthouse keeper in the Flores Straits. like St. Francis these men
talk to the birds and the trees, but harmless as this habit may seem,
it is safe only in the bush. In town it impresses most nn&vonrably
the matter-of-fact policeman, who, when he hears the monologue,
halts only between two opinions as to its cause.
It must not be thought for one moment that the men and women
in the far west of North Queensland are mainly solitary eccentrics.
The vast majority are brave, resourceful, and self-reUant to a very
high degree, and their constant struggle with nature has produced
a fortitude that commands respectful admiration. Throughout the
long drought I seldom heard anyone complain, although the cattle
and sheep were lying dead in heaps by every dried-up waterhole, and
day after day the heavens were Uke brass and the earth remained as
hard as iron. Even more marvellous than the fortitude of the men
is the patient courage of the women. They do not go into the * Never
Never * for adventure or for a living, but for love's own sake, and
there are few places where love demands a more complete self-sur-
render. The tropical climate in India is always most trying to women,
but in India good houses and numerous servants lighten the white
woman's burthen. There are few servants in the * Never Never,*
although the uncertain services of a black gin are sometimes to be
obtained. The houses, at the best, are uncomfortable wooden shells
with corrugated iron roofs, and are often made of hessian cloth
stretched over a framework of wood, or of that most trying of all
building materials — ^kerosene tins, cut, flattened, and nailed across a
similar support. There may be no medical man for a hundred miles,
and no other white woman for full half that distance. Mr. Henry
Lawson has familiarised Australian readers with the pathos of the
bushwoman's life, and I for one can never read without a lump rising
in my throat, his story of the crazy old settler whose wife had died in
child-birth the first year of his selection, but who never realised that
he Uved alone throughout his solitary life. ^ I never wanted to bring
her up,' he is made to say in apology for her supposed presence in the
back-blocks. ^ It is no place for a woman.' Let others speak of the
heroism of the men who make the Empire. To me there is no sacrifice
so complete as that given not to the Empire, but for the Empire in
the love of the wives and mothers.
It is safe to say that the average Englishman knows very little
about the conditions of an Australian squatter's life. Those who
have experienced the generous hospitality of some Victorian pastoraHst
may have been surprised at the beauty of the homestead and the high
standard of culture to be found within. But tiie North Queensland
stations are not like those in Victoria and New South Wales. The
squatters are often cultivated gentlemen, but their homesteads cannot
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be called loxurious, and in some cases are little more than a collection
of huts. As a case in point I remember reaching a certain cattle
station bcTond doncorry about half -past nine one night after a long
and extremely tiresome journey. One of the horses had given in,
bat we had pressed on in the moonlight rather than make a ^ dry
camp.' The homestead was in darkness, but as we drew near two or
three ghostly figures rose from the dusty ground to meet us, and half
a dozen more turned on their sides to watch our approach. One of
those who met us was the owner of the station, who had been sleeping,
like some old-world patriarch, among his men — ^whites, aborigines,
half-castes, and a Chinese cook. All the hospitality possible was
given freely and willingly, but there was no conversation. We were
tired, and our host was silent as men are who live much alone. There
are no women on this particular station, and the men are seldom at
the homestead. The mustering of cattle takes them far afield, and
tiiey sleep wherever simdown finds them.
Many years ago, when a curate in Yorkshire, I remember a friend
comparing most unfavourably the suburban congregation to whom I
ministered with his own parishioners who were chiefly navvies. He
said he preferred the navvies because aU their sins were big sins.
The reason sounded somewhat heretical then, but I know better now
what was in my friend's mind, for the prevailing sins of North Queens-
land are xmmistakable. One of these sins is drunkenness ; added to
it is blasphemy, and there is another coarse sin, alas ! only too common,
while an inveterate passion for gambling appears to be growing rapidly.
Yet, withal, there is to be found a certain nobiUty of character often
lacking in those who are more conventionally moral. The men in the
* Never Never ' are loyal to their friends, and, as a rule, are ready to
risk their lives without a second thought. There is something very
attractive in tiie character revealed in a story told to me some months
ago, and which I believe to be true. It appears that two friends
took a contract to fence in some country lying about fifty miles away
from a certain bush township. The drought had not then broken,
so the men took no horses, and rations were delivered to them from
the township twice a month. By a sorry mischance a tree falling
upon one of these men broke his thigh. His friend dared not leave
him to the mercy of the ants and the crows, so after a vain attempt
to set the fracture, he determined to carry the woimded man into the
hospital. The journey took four days — or four nights, for when the
summer shade temperature varies from 100^ to 120^ it is sometimes
more convenient to travel between sundown and sunrise — ^but in the
end tiie wounded man was duly delivered to the hospital surgeon.
His mate apparently did not think that there was anything surprising
or praiseworthy in his own act, but that night he proceeded to make
himself completely drunk. It was once suggested to me that I should
have rebuked the man for his intemperance. A sense of humility, I
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824 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Nov.
think, would have deteried me if I had ever met tiie man, which so
far has not been the case. None the less, I am for ever speaking heie
about the folly of intemperance, for it is sad to contemplate their
end whose lives are spent in a succession of titanic labours followed
by shameful orgies in some low public-house. They spend all they
earn on drink, and when they can earn no more they drift like human
flotsam into the State asylum for aged people, or they find their way
to a familiar waterhole, and one night they turn for the last time
upon the warm bosom of mother earth forgetful and forgotten. It
must not be thought that these men are heroes, or that they are
wrapped in any romantic glamour. Probably they themselves would
abusively reject such a conception, and from experience I can testify
that it is not always easy to calmly regard their moral vagaries. A
few months ago, while camping for the night at a western coach
change, three or four drunken shearers forced themselves into my
rough bedchamber seeking vainly for more beer. It was with diffi-
culty that I persuaded them to depart with my water-jug.
The future of the children is the greatest anxiety to the parents
on the * Never Never.' Wherever twelve children can be gatiiered
together a * provisional school ' may be opened, and where tiiere are
thirty children the Qovemment erect a State school with a teacher's
residence attached. In Queensland all education is free, secular,
and tiieoretically compulsory, but in a sparsely settled country it is
obvious that a large number of children have not the slightest oppor-
tunity of attending school. Added to this, the Queensland (jovem-
ment made the State school teaching purely secular on the assumption
that the various reUgious bodies would also make satisfactory arrange-
ments for giving religious teaching. This may be possible, although
it has not proved practicable, in Brisbane ; it is simply impossible
out on the * Never Never.' To illustrate this point let me say that
twelve months ago I visited one township twenty years old, and con-
taining, perhaps, a couple of hundred inhabitants, where no clergy-
man had ever been previously nearer than one hundred and fifty miles.
The inhabitants of the township in question begged for a service <mot
a year. They have had one service since, and to give it a clergyman
has had to ride on horseback almost four hundred miles. This will
show the extreme difficulty of securing any adequate education for
children in a country where such conditions prevail. With regard to
the paucity of reUgious ministrations, it may be interesting to note
that only Anglicans and Roman Catholics are doing work in the far
north-west of Queensland, and they cannot do much, on account of
the huge distances to be covered, and the consequent e^ense of
travelling. So far as those of whom I have any right to speak are
concerned, the blame must not be laid upon the clergy— «t least upon
the clergy who are at work in the * Never Never '—while the men and
women to whom they minister do not show much appreciation of the
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Bweet reasonableness of the Churcli of England, wUch, at the present
time, apparently aims at stimulating self-help in the Colonial Choich
hj leaving it to struggle under its burthen almost unaided. They
are constantly saying something like this : ' If we were heathen the
Church at home would send scores of clergy to look after us, but
because we are white men Uving in this God-forsaken wilderness we
are left to live Uke animals and die Uke dogs/
The Bight Honourable Joseph Chamberlain, speaking last year in
JiOndon upon the work of the Colonists, said that in developing the
new countries the Colonists are giving to the British nation the proudest
heritage that ever man enjoyed, and are laying upon the nation's
shoulders a greater burthen than any nation ever bore. This is a
conception worthy of the statesman who gave it birth. And putting
aside for the moment any consideration of the claim Colonists have
upon their Mother Country, is not the conception more worthy of
attention than the doleful jeremiads of discontented financiers, or the
ill-formed criticisms of a section of the English Press ? It is not the
* inordinate sensitiveness of democracy' that makes us shrink from
adverse criticism. We have more trenchant critics in Sydney than
in London, and much that we now hear across the ocean has a famiUar
sound ; but it seems as if many of our new mentors, who repeat our
exaggerated condemnation of ourselves, have failed to recognise that
self-condemnation is a national Tpenchcmt usually associated with a
strong desire for reform. Furthermore, it is apparently overlooked
by many who discuss Australian affairs that Australia is little more
than a hundred years old. During that hundred years we have
organised from end to end a continent as large as Europe ; and not
only have we occupied the coimtry, but we have faced social and
industrial problems as yet only in the air in England. The exuber-
ance of party politics, disturbing as it undoubtedly may seem, is only
a phase of development in a virile State, in which many theories of
legislation are constantly being modified or rejected after trial.
Throughout the Commonwealth the various States are steadily setting
their houses in financial order.^ The country is recuperating after a
* The day after this article was posted to England (the 2l8t of August, 1905) the
Bight Hon. Sir John Forrest, P.O., G.C.M.O., delivered his Budget speech to the Federal
House of Bepresentatives. After stating tiiat the public debts of the various States
amounted to 284,000,0002., and that one of the objects of federation was to take over
these debts, the Federal Treasurer said that there appeared to be three courses open :
(1) To talce over the debts as provided in the Ck>nstitution ; (2) to take over a portion
of them on a population basis ; (8) to take over the whole of the debts. The latter
would require an amendment ot the Ck)nstitution. He suggested, in arriving at a
solution of the question of the share of revenue accruing to the States from Customs
and Excise, that Parliament should consider whether it was not possible to adopt the
Canadian plan, by which a fixed amount would be returned annually by the Common-
wealth to the States for local administration purposes. The Commonwealth and the
States would then be in independent positions, and could work out their own problems
in their own way. Sir John Forrest's peroration was very impressive. He said :
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phenomenally long and disastrous drought, which, regarded as an
influence upon national character, has not been altogether a bad tiling.
Fortitude, hopefulness, and courage are far better assets for a nation
than wealth and luxury, and such virtues have been brightly dis-
played over and over again during the bad times. To men such as
those who faced without wavering the disaster of a ten years' drought
it is almost impertinent to offer encouragement to determination and
perseverance, but, under hands like theirs, AustraUa is bound to pass
through bad times into new prosperity.
Obobgb H. North Queensland.
* I Mk the hoDoarable members to think of Australia as a whole, and not only of their
individoal States. I think we may torn oar thoughts with pride and satisfiMtion to
the results we have attained. The only object worth fighting for is to make the lot of
the people easier and happier. What are we here for if this is not our constant aim ?
This great country was never intended to be inhabited by a handful of people, and I
trust those who come after us will be able to maintain in this southern land of ours
those characteristics which have made the country we descend from. great and
prosperous.'
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1905
THE AUSTRALIAN LABOUR PARTY
For good or evil the Labour party has become a powerful factor in
Australian politics ; its influence is felt in Municipal, State, and Federal
affairs. This year, for three months, it occupied the Ministerial
Benches in the C!ommonwealth Parliament ; in State politics it has
had in West Australia twelve months of office, and in Queensland and
South Australia it now forms the chief constituent of coalition
ministries. Up to the present the reign of Labour ministries has been
very brief, yet even opponents of the Labour party must admit that,
according to present indications, its power is certain to increase
rather than diminish. Of the three spheres for its activity, its power is
relatively less strong in Municipal than in either State or Federal
Councils. It is avowedly socialistic in its auns, yet strange to say
that, whilst in Qreat Britain socialism is much in evidence in Municipal
affairs, in Australia direct nominees of the Labour party have only
found their way into a few of the hundreds of local governing bodies.
The explanation of this is that a property qualification is essential
to secure votes at Municipal elections, and the Labour party draws
its support chiefly from the wage-earning class. The majority of the
professional and commercial classes feel little sympathy with its
aspirations, though their hostility to it is certainly not nearly as bitter
as some years ago. As regards State politics, every State Parliament
in Australasia has its Labour party, though in no instance has it an
absolute majority of pledged members. Where it has held power, it
has done so with the help of extreme Radicals. As a vigilant third
party it has been frequently able to exert an influence &r stronger
than it could put forward by mere voting strength, were it but one of
two, instead of one of three Parliamentary parties. It is, however, in
the higher sphere of C!ommonwealth politics that the Labour party
deserves most attention.
To the majority, even in Australia, the results of the last Federal
elections were a revelation, a revelation of the strength, the earnest-
ness, and the wonderful organisation of the supporters of the Labour
party throughout the C!ommonwealth. In the first Australian Parlia-
ment there were eight Labour members in the Senate, and sixteen in
the House of Representatives. This was a good proportion to con-
827
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828 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Nov.
8titute a third party, considering that the total number of members
in the Senate is thirty-six, and in the House of BepresentatiyeB seventy-
five. The general elections for the Second Federal Pariiament con-
siderably increased that proportion. There are now fourteen Labour
members in the Senate, and twenty-three Labour members in the
House of Representatives. In the Senate the Labour party may be
regarded as in the majority. The pledged Labour members number
less than half the Senate, but there are three or four Senators who,
though not actual members of the party, nearly always vote with it,
thus practically ensuring an absolute majority of the Chamber. At
the opening of the present Parliament in the House of Representatives,
the Government, the Opposition, and the Labour party were each of •
nearly equal staiength. A three-cornered duel ensued ; as might
have been expected, there were some kaleidoscopic ministerial changes.
No fewer than four Governments held power in eighteen months. In
February last year, Mr. Deakin met Parliament as Prime Minister.
In April he was defeated by the Labour party, assisted by the majority
of Mr. Reid's followers, and Mr. Watson came into power as head of
a Labour ministry. In August Mr. Watson was ejected by Mr. Reid,
with the help of Mr. Deakin. Mr. Reid's (Government reigned until
July of this year, when the Labour party assisted Mr. Deakin to oust
him. Mr. Deakin, whose party has been reduced to eighteen, is now
Prime Minister by the grace of the Labour party. Is it surprising
that thinking men in Australia view the position with feelings other
than those of satisfaction ? The Labour party can dictate terms to
the Ministry, and ensure that its own policy is carried out by others.
It is strongest whilst it sits on the cross benches. During the few
months it was in office it was at the mercy of Parliament ; it left
most of the planks of its platform severely alone, and it had, during
that time, less real power than it has had either before or since. It is
not likely again to take office, unless it can conmiand an absolute
majority of its own members to give effect to its own ideas, and,
indeed, it perhaps would be better for Australia that it had respon-
sibility as well as power, rather than as at present power without
responsibility. However, if not at the next general election, the
party is bound ere long to get the clear Parliamentary majority it
seeks. Under these circumstances, great importance attaches to its
aims and organisation, for the influence of those who have charge of
the Government of Australia not merely affects the internal concerns
of the island continent, but eictends to the attitude of the Conmion-
wealth towards the Mother Country and the Empire generally.
To the minds of the majority of the British people there is some-
thing almost revolutionary in the very name of the Labour party.
It is suggestive of the violation of the rights of individuals. It con-
jures up visions of wild-eyed anarchy, and of the illogical socialist
who cries ' Let us all be equal, and Til be your king.' But in Australia
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1906 THE AUSTRALIAN LABOUR PARTY 829
even the enemies of the Labour party have no extreme fears of the
result of its probable domination. To those who do not agree with
the party's aims, the prospect of its obtaining power excites no more
alarm than the average English Conservative might feel regarding the
possible capture of the Ministerial Benches by the Liberals. The
Australian Labour party does not try to gain its ends by revolution,
but by a gradual process of evolution. It strives for what it believes
to be the betterment of mankind by a different political method from
that adopted in the past. It claims that the advancement of the
public welfare should not be by endeavouring to make the rich richer,
on the assumption that wage-earners and others dependent on the
rich win reap corresponding benefits. Labour advocates say that
this was the process that was followed when the well-to-do class had
aU the legislative power. Those who governed then are described as
thinking first of their own interests, and secondly of the interests of
the rest of the community. The Australian Labour party pays chief
consideration to the welfare of the masses, and contends that the
bulk of the people cannot be benefited without also benefiting the
commercial and richer classes. If poverty be decreased and legisla-
tion raises those in the lowest strata of society to a better position, the
whole fabric of society, according to the Labour party, must also be
raised.
Both in State and Federal politics, the Labour party endeavours
to win for each adult, irrespective of sex, equal political power. It
urges that Australian men and women are sufficiently intelligent,
sufficiently acquainted with political problems, and sufficiently
advanced in other ways to enjoy self-government to the fullest extent.
One adult one vote has already been secured in the case of the Federal
Parliament. Every person over the age of twenty-one years,- who
has been not less than six months in the Commonwealth, can now vote
for members for both the Senate and the House of Representatives,
and no person can have more than one vote for each House. The
franchise is not so liberal for most of the State Parliaments. In some
States women have not yet the right to vote, and in one or two of the
States men without property have less political power than those
with property, as the latter are allowed to voie in all constituencies in
which they possess the necessary property qualification. There
should, in the opinion of the Labour party, be no such departures
from the principle of one adult one vote, and one vote only. Another
reform intended to establish electoral equality is the abolition or
reform of the Legislative Councils or Upper Houses — chambers that
are intended to represent property, and remotely correspond to the
House of Lords, their functions being mainly to revise the work of
the Lower Houses. In some States the Legislative Council is elected
on a property qualification vote, whilst in others it is a nominee
chamber to which the Executive add whenever it is deemed
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880 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Nov.
advisable. Both forms of election are equally objectionable to the
Labour party.
The adult suffrage that is sought for the State Legislatures^ and the
desired abolition or reform of the Legislative Councils, would, if
accomplished, give the necessary political power to the masses to enabk
the Labour party to still further advance their main purpose — namely,
the gradual extension of socialism. By every means in its power,
the party seeks to increase the collective ownership and control of
industries, whether through the Municipality, the State Government,
or the Commonwealth Government. In many cities the municipalitieB
own and manage tramways, electric light and power works, markets,
baths, &c. Not only are the railways the property of, and run by, the
State, but also some Qovemments have extensive workshops where
all kinds of engines are produced. There are many batteries and
other ore-reduction plants belonging to State Grovemments. The
West Australian Qovemment owns a couple of hotels. The Common-
wealth Grovemment has a monopoly of telephones as well as the post
and telegraph service. The Labour party favours State banking and
State insurance ; it seeks to prevent the further alienation of Crown
lands. It advocates the cheapening of the legal process, the division
of each State into medical districts in charge of competent medical
officers whose services shall be absolutely free, technical and scientific
education, and State clothing factories for the manufacture of Grovem-
ment uniforms. The Labour party have slightly different programmes
of reform or platforms in the different States as regards State politics.
The platforms are adapted to local requirements. The differences are
not serious, and all the reforms advocated strongly tend towaids
socialism, though the socialism advocated is not of the extreme type.
To quote from the official report of the decisions of the last
Triennial Conference of the Political Labour organisations of the
Commonwealth, which sat in Melbourne last July, the objective of
the Federal Labour party is as follows :
(a) The cultivation of an Australian sentiment, based upon tiie
maintenance of racial purity, and the development in Australia of
an enlightened and self-reliant community. (&) The security of the
full results of their industry to all producers by the collective owner-
ship of monopolies, and the extension of the industrial and economic
functions of the State and Municipality. The Labour party seek
to achieve this objective by means of a policy that they invariably
refer to as their platform. The planks of what is called the ^ Fight-
ing Platform ' are as follows :
(1) The maintenance of a white Australia. (2) The nationalisa-
tion of monopolies. (3) Old age pensiona (4) A tariff referendum.
(5) A progressive tax on unimproved land values. (6) The restiie-
tion of public borrowing. (7) Navigation laws. (8) A citizen defence
force. (9) Arbitration amendment. What is known as the
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1905 THE AUSTRALIAN LABOUR PARTY 881
^ General Platfonn/ which is really an amplification and explanation
of the * Fighting Platform/ is as follows :
(1) The maintenance of a white Australia. (2) The nationalisa-
tion of monopolies, (a) If necessary, an amendment of the constitution
to provide for the same. (3) Old age pensions. (4) A referendum of
Commonwealth electors on the tariff question when the report of the
Tariff Commission has been completed, the party to give legislative
effect to the decision of the referendum vote. (6) A progressive tax
on imimproved land values. (6) The restriction of public borrowing.
(7) Navigation laws to provide : (a) For the protection of Australian
fiUpping against unfair competition^ (&) The registration of all
vessels engaged in the coastal trade, (c) The efficient manning of
vessels, (d) The proper supply of life-saving and other equipment.
(e) The regulation of hours and conditions of work. (/) Proper loading
gear and inspection of same, {g) Compulsory insurance of crews by
shipowners against accident or death. (8) Citizen defence forces
and an Australian-owned navy. (9) An amendment of the Common-
wealth Arbitration Act to provide for preference to unionists and
the exclusion of the legal profession. (10) A Commonwealth bank
of deposit and issue, and a life and fire insurance department, the
management of each to be free from political influence. (11) Uniform
industrial legislation, an amendment of the Constitution to provide
for the same. (12) Civil equality of men and women.
In criticising the above platform it should be remembered that
great differences exist in the conditions prevailing in Europe from
those prevailing in a new country like Australia, peopled with energetic,
enterprising settlers. The cultured, aristocratic dass, comprising
the nobility and gentry, who exercise so great an influence in the
British Isles, is unknown in Australia ; but on the other hand Australia
has no dass absolutely uneducated. There are no people in Australia
who correspond to tiie submerged tenth, or to the simple-minded
peasantry of rural England. The extremes of either wealth and
poverty, or culture and ignorance, are not as common in Australia
as in Qreat Britain, but the average of education is undoubtedly
higher in Australia. A greater knowledge of the world and the
wodd's affairs exists amongst the Australian public; Australian
men and women of aU classes travel more and have a more practical
acquaintance with politics and politicians.
There are other considerations that should be taken into account
when criticising the Labour party's platform. For instance, to the
resident of England it may be dMcult to understand the antipathy
of Australians to the immigration of Asiatics. Yet not only the
Labour party but all parties in Australian politics are practically
unanimous as to the necessity for maintaining a white Australia,
because they recognise that if there were no restrictions to the admission
of Asiatics the continent would be invaded by hordes of Chinese,
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882 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Nov.
A%liaii8y Hindoos, Japanese, Cingalese,^., with the result that before
long the colooied residents of Australia would far outnumber the white
inhabitants. These races would, it is feared, lower wages and bring the
European manual workers in Australia down to the Asiatic standard
of living. There is an even worse danger : the presence of so many
coloured people in Australia would imperil the purity of the Britidi
race within the Commonwealth, and cause the Continent in time to
be inhabited by a piebald people inferior probably to the degenerates
of South America. Even if it could be shown that most of the present
inhabitants of Australia might reap a temporary advantage by
becoming a superior class in a country peopled largely by Asiatics,
the question may be still asked. Is it wise that the people of to-day
should be benefited at the expense of generations yet unborn!
Legislation might be passed to prevent marriage or sexual inter-
course between members of European and Asiatic races. Legisla-
tion of that kind might or might not be successful ; but if succesrfol
might not Australia in that case, after the lapse of a few generations,
be face to face with a coloured racial difficulty similar to that which
is now perplexing United States statesmen! Whether the races
mingled as in South America, or kept apart as in North America,
would not the consequences be equally alarming ! In the interests
of civilisation and of the Empire especially, it is felt that the vast
area included within the Federal States of Austaralia should be kept
for the white people of the future. It is the last of the world's spaces
to be peopled, and it ought to be preserved for the surplus population
of Europe.
An erroneous impression exists regarding the attitude of Australia
towards European immigrants. The notoriously misrepresented
incident of * The Six Hatters ' has been often quoted in an endeavour
to prove that there is a want of sympathy in Australia, especially
amongst the Labour party, towards even British working men immi-
grants. The incident arose through the maladministration of
legislation to protect immigrants as much as residents of Australia.
The legislation in question was designed to prevent men being brought
to the continent under misrepresentation. It had been a common
practice to engage men to come to Australia under contract to work
at a lower rate of wage than that paid in Australia. These men
found that owing to the high cost of living in Australia the wage that
seemed to be almost princely in their own country, where living ex-
penses are so low, was scarcely adequate to keep body and soul together
in Australia. The difference in the price of aU necessaries had not
been explained to them, and they had thus been induced to sign
contracts without a fuU knowledge of what they were doing. Injury
was done to the immigrants and to Australian workers with whom
they entered into competition under unfair conditions. To prevent
the continuance of such a system, legislation was passed prohibiting
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1906 THE AUSTRALIAN LABOUR PARTY 888
the immigration of workmen under contract. Many exceptions
to this proIiibiti<m are allawed. It does not apply to workmen
exempted by the Minister for special skill required in Australia. The
imported hatters came within this exception, but unfortunately,
through ministerial blundering, tiiere was some days' delay before
they were admitted. Hence all the exaggeration that has since
been indulged in. Speaking to a press interviewer on the 3rd of
September this year, Mr. Watson, the leader of the Labour party,
said that all that was aimed at when the present law was passed
was to prevent men coming in under agreement to take the
place of men who may be on strike, or from coming in at rates of
wages below the standard ruling in Australia, or after having been
deceived respecting the conditions obtaining in the Commonwealth.
It is not clear that the law does not go further than was in-
tended, and the clause that has caused trouble is to be modified
this Session by Mr. Deakin, who has been promised the aaustance of
Mr. Watson as well as Mr. Reid. Nowhere is a wanner welcome
extended than in Australia to desirable immigrants — ^European
immigrants prepared to abide by existing Austaralian conditions and
tiirow in tiieir lot with Australians. One Labour member (Mr. Mahon)
has a notice of motion on the business paper of the House of Repre-
sentatives, which so well interprets the fedings of his fellow Labour
members that it is worth quoting in full. It is as follows :
(1) That the persistent misrepresentation abroad of legislative and ad-
nunistrstive measures of the Commonwealth reflects unjustly on the character
of the Australian people, and tends to operate prejudicially to the progress of
Australia, by diecking immigration and impairing the credit of the States in
the estimation of British and foreign investors ; (2) it being expedient to
remove the erroneous and injurious impressions created by such misrepresenta-
tion, this House requests the Prime Minister, pending the appointment of a High
Commissioner for the Commonwealth^— (a) To confer with the Agents-General
of the States in devising means of periodically placing before the people of the
United Kingdom exact and unbiassed details concerning the legislation,
administration, and resources of Australia ; and (b) invite the leading news-
papers or press associations of the United Kingdom to jointly nominate three
representatives to visit Australia, conveying with such invitation an assurance
that all the facilities required will be afforded these gentlemen to conduct such
investigations as they might deem fit into the position of Australia, and
particularly into the charge that our legislative and administrative policy
unduly impedes the incoming of white immigrants suitable for the work of
colonisation.
Mr. Deakin and Mr. Reid are each emphatic cm tiie desirableness
of encouraging immigration. Early in September of this year Mr.
Deakin, as Prime Minister, published a long State paper voicing the
cry at Australia for population. At the outset he writes : ' Let me
msBume at once that we are aU agreed as to the urgent necessity for
•ddii^ to the population of Australia from those of our own race*
A mere glance at the map shovrs thousands of miles of our coast
Vol. LVUI— No. 346 8 I
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practically unsettled. From a defence point of view alone such a
condition is a constant temptation to oni rivals amongst the nations.*
In another part of the statement Mr. Deakin points out, ^ We must
either use the richest of this part of our territory, or if we consent to
leave it idle we must risk its appropriation by others who will people
it.' Mr. Deakin adds that the Commonwealth should make a better
bargain with the steamship companies for conveying immigrants
to Australia, and mentions that he has written to the Agents-General
for the various Australian States in London, inviting their advice
upon the best means of advertising and managing whatever enter*
prise may be agreed upon for encouraging immigration.
If another plank of the Labour platform, namely, compulsory
arbitration, be taken, the experience of New Zealand and West
Australia, where sudh legislation has been tried, shows that it has
been instrumental in benefiting both wage-earner and wage-payer
as well as the commercial class, inasmuch as it has abolished strikes
and established the blessings of industrial peace. The maritime
strike, the shearers' strike, and many other great industrial conflicts
have taught Australia to dread such troubles. Austrahans have
come to realise that the time is past when private individuals
or combinations should be allowed to settle their difEerences by the
arlHtrament of force, whether such force be phjrsical or financial.
The disagreements that in feudal times were settled by private wars
between barons are now dealt with in Law Courts. So should it be
?dth those industrial disputes, the disastrous consequences of which
are not confined to the persons actually engaged, but extend to women
and children, business people and other non-combatants. Why
should strikes be allowed to continue any more than any of those ordi-
nary disturbances in which private individuals engage, and which are so
vigorously suppressed \ Not the Labour party alone, but most of
those holding allegiance to other parties in AustraUa, now agree that
industrial disputes should be settled by law like other disputes.
The other planks of the Labour platform require Uttle explanation.
Old age pensions are ahready paid in two of the six States, namely,
Victoria and New South Wales. The idea of the Labour party is
that the Federal and not theStateauthorities should pay these pensions,
and that the system should apply throughout the Commonwealth.
Begarding the nationalisation of monopoUes, the only industry that
has yet received much consideration in that connection is the tobacco
industry, but the proposal to make it a State monopoly can scarcely
be said to have yet entered the reakns of practical poUtics. The
Labour party determinedly oppose conscription and militarimm, but
favour a citizen army on tiie Swiss system. Labour members believe
that for the defence of Australia the only permanent forces that are
necessary are thosjB required to man the forts and form the nucleus
of a regular army in the event of war. The cadet system and rifle
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1906 THE AUSTRALIAN LABOUR PARTY 835
dubs meet with the Labour party's special approval. In naval
matters the payment of the present annual subsidy, small as it is,
towards the upkeep of the AustraUan squadron, was opposed by
most of the members of the Labour party, mainly because they view
any contribution towards Lnperial defence as savouring of taxation
without representation. An AustraUan owned navy, considering
the state of the Commonwealth finances, is generally recognised
amongst even Labour members as something to be talked about
rather than achieved in the lifetime of the present generation. It
is certain, however, that unless public opinion in AustraUa undergoes
a complete change, it is solely in the form of AustraUan owned or
oontroUed warships that the Commonwealth can be induced to offer
any substantial contribution towards the defence of the Empire.
Those who contend that the money would be more advantageously
expended if donated to the Imperial authorities for naval purposes,
should take into account Australian pubUc opinion as it is, and not
as perhaps it ought to be, and remember that an AustraUan navy,
if established, would be as available for the service of the Empire when-
ever needed as were the AustraUan troops during the Boer War.
One of the planks that, inthe opinion of some who on other questions
differ widely from the Labour party, fully justify the support of the
party generally, is that for the restriction of pubUc borrowing. With
an estimated population within the Commonwealth last year of some
4,000,000, with immigration almost stopped, with the birth rate de-
creasing and with the pubUc debt of the States on the 30th of June,
1903, amounting to 220,000,0002., it is not surprising that the people of
the Commonwealth are beginning to think that it is time to put a stop
to further borrowing except under special circumstances, and only
then for reproductive works. True, there is no need for uneasiness.
The assets of AustraUa in the form of railways, waterworks and other
revenue-produdng projects are considerable ; no fear can be reasonably
entertained as to AustraUa's abiUty always to meet the interest charges,
or to pay off the debts as they become due. Some of the States have
sinking funds to dispose of their UabiUties. StiU, there are many
reasons why borrowing should be restricted, and there is no party
more strongly in favour of caution as regards further loans than
the Labour party. In the House of Representatives it helped the
Opposition to block the attempt made by the Covemment to initiate
a borrowing poUcy for the Commonwealth, with the result that the
BiU that was introduced which authorised the borrowing of 1,000,000/.
had to be withdrawn. The accession to power of the Labour party
need not frighten AustraUan bondholders.
In order to carry out the aims of the Labour party there is an
almost perfect system of organisation throughout the Commonwealth.
The Labour party is indeed the only poUtical party that is fully organ-
ised, and the same organisation is utilised for Federal, State and
8 xa
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886 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Nov.
even Munioipal elections. In Trades Unionism lies the chief str^igth
of the organisation* Trades Unioninii has extended to practically
all the trades of the Commonwealth, and ?dth a few exceptions
Australian Trades Unions are semi-poHtical bodies. It is found that
better conditions for working men can be best obtained tiirongh
legislation. Factory legislation and compulsory arlHtration in trade
disputes are striking examples of what may be done in that direction.
Hence the keen interest taken by AustnUan unionists in poUtics.
For each seat that the Labour party determine to contest, prelimi-
nary ballots are held to choose candidates for the support of the party.
Those who vote at such ballots must be unionists, or members of
political labour leagues, which are poUtioal labour bodies working
in conjunction with unionists. These selection ballots are fought
on the Unes of regular elections, and sometimes with great bitterness.
After the selection all differences disappear. The successful candidate
for selection in the subsequent election is supported by thecomlHned
strength of the unions, and the unionist who is known to vote for or
otherwise assist a non-labour candidate is regarded as a ' black leg.' A
strict pledge is required from each candidate. The pledge which
must be signed is as follows :
I hereby pledge myself not to oppose any candidate selected by the
recognised political Labour organisation, uid if elected, to do my utmost to
carry out the principles embodied in the Federal Labour Platform, and on all
questions afiecting the Platform to vote as a majority of the Parliamentary
party may decide at a duly constituted caucus meeting.
All Labour members are permitted to have a free hand on the
fiscal question. Protection or Free Trade has been a great battle
cry in Austraha until quite recently, and the Labour members in
the Federal Parliam^it have been on this matter about equally
divided. They have exhibited but slight interest in Mr. Chamberlain's
preferential trade proposals. Those of them who are protectionists
view his scheme as other protectionists regard it in Australia ; they
favour it if it means the increase of the existing protective duties
against goods from foreign countries. In other words, the protec-
tionists cann3t get all the protection they wish, and they support
preferential trade as a means towards getting the additicmal pro-
tection that they could not otherwise secure. Australian Free Traders,
including Free Trade Labour members, support preferential trade if
it be instrumental in obtaining a measure of free trade, or a reduction
of the existing Customs burden. The only preference that Austrahan
Free Traders desire is the reduction of the existing tariff in bivour of
British goods. In short, in Australia protectionists beUeve in rabing
the tariff wall against foreign importations, whilst Free Traders
beUeve in lowering it to favour British importations. Each part/
would like to use preferential trade to further their own polio7.
No member of the Labour party can accept office except with the
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1905 TEE AUSTRALIAN LABOUB PABT7 837
consent of a duly constituted caucus of the party. In some quarters
objection is taken to the strictness of the discipline exercised, and
to the pledge. It is said, and not without some truth, that in ParUa-
ment the leader of the Labour party is the mere phonograph of the
caucus, and the members only so many voting machines. The dis-
cipline tends to sap the independence and individuaUty of the members,
and causes them to become more the tools of caucus and outside organ-
isations than the representatives of the people who sent them to
Parliament. A Labour member must vote in Parliament as the
majority of his party in caucus decide. He may therefore be required
to vote in ParUament contrary to his honest convictions. In doing
so he is helping to undermine the efficiency and influence of Parlia-
ment itself, and striking a blow at the greatest of democratic institu-
tions. This insistence on a pledge from parliamentary candidates,
and the secret caucus system by which Parliament is undermined,
causes some of the best of the public men of the Commonwealth to
hold themselves aloof from the Labour party. In seeking to defend
these blots on the organisation. Labour supporters reply that loyalty
and united action are essential to success.
During several years' association with the Federal Labour party
whilst in the Commonwealth Parliament, the writer, though a member
of Mr. Reid's party, formed a high opinion of the Labour members'
capacity, and the genuineness of their desire to do the greatest good
for the greatest number consistent with justice to all. Their leader,
Mr. Watson, is a young man, formerly a compositor, self-educated, full
of mental vigour and of moderate views. Almost all the members
are men of the world, possessed of sound common sense, and except
in one or two cases having no extreme views. If a couple of them
occasionally give utterance to strong republican sentiments, there are
several of them who, especially during the Boer War, showed them-
selves to be strongly imperiaUstic. The most pronouncedly imperial-
istic as well as the most prosperous colony south of the Equator,
New Zealand, has for many years been ruled by the most democratic
Government probably in the Southern Hemisphere, though not
actuaUy called a Labour (government.
J. W. KiRWAN.
Kalgoorlie, WeaTAustralia,
September 16, 1906
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8j8 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Nov.
REDISTRIBUTION
At last we have awakened ! This subject is to be the prominent one
in the next Session — which will probably be the last — of the present
Parliament. The King's Speech promised it. The present Govern-
ment have stated their proposals. Next Session it is to be real
business.
The Qovemment proposals were in form of a Resolution laying
down certain rules or figures (* principles/ so called) upon which
commissioners should report the changes of boundaries which would
be necessary to give them effect. It was accompanied by an
explanatory memorandum by Mr. Qerald Balfour, President of the
Local Government Board. It did not meet with general acceptance
in the House, and was wisely withdrawn, with the intimation that
the proposals would be brought forward in the form of a Bill next
Session. Tha Government have intimated that their proposals are
open to criticism and amendment, but that they will make them the
basis of the Bill of next Session. It becomes, therefore, important
to examine tiiose proposals.
To make any plan for the representation of the people intelligible
the prime factors must be remembered. These are :
(1) The population, which by the Census of 1901 was 41,458,721.
Next year, 1906, it will be nearly 44,000,000.
(2) The number of members to represent them — 670.
m (3) The average of population per member, which rises annually
—viz. 62,721 in 1901. Next year, 1906, it will be about 65,000.
(4) The electors— in 1901 were 6,822,685, or an average of 10,181
per member. In 1904 they were 7,194,974, or an average of 10,738
per member.
(5) The disparities existing between the different constituencies
which now call for reform, c.y. :
(a) Some members represent 200,000 people, many others less
than 20,000. The extreme disparity is 30 to 1. IHve members
represent as many people as forty-five other members. And so on.
(6) 370 members at present represent only a little more than one-
third of the people, while the two-thirds are represented by only 300
members,^ out of the 670.
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1906 BEDI8TBIBUTI0N 889
(c) One-half of the people are represented by 206 members, and
the oth^ half by 464.
(d) Scotland, With a larger population than Ireland, is represented
by 72 members, while Ireland has 103 members.
(e) Ireland has a member for every 6,283 electors ; England, one
for every 11,442; Scotland, one for every 10,745; Wales, one for
every 10,466.
Vfiik these factors before us we have to consider the Grovemment
plan for removal or abatement of the anomalies.
The merits of the Qovemment plan are far from being apparent.
Its defects are more obvious, but capable of amendment.
The Government proposal adopts, very reasonably under the
droumstances, the present number of members — ^viz. 670. It next
proceeds, without stating reasons, to take a good arbitrary figure,
65,000, as the qualifying number for all new seats. This figure was
selected, I suppose, as being a fadr average of what all the 670 con-
stituencies of the Kingdom should be. It is about what l-670th of the
population wiU be next year, 1906, when it may be hoped a Bill will
be carried. There is therefore some approximation to a ^ principle '
underlying this figure, and I think 65,000, being the probable average
of population per member in 1906, may be accepted as a isir datum
for new representation. But the fairness ends here. Applying it
to new constituencies, the plan certainly, in words, provides that
every borough or urban district with a population exceeding
65,000, not at present represented, is to have a new member for each
complete 65,000. And applying the same measure to all counties
and large towns containing more than 65,000 population per
existing member, it professes to give an additional member for every
complete 65,000 population of the excess in that county or that town.
So far good. But, although the Government take 65,000 as a divisor,
they work it out, not on the population of to-day or of 1906, but on
the population as it was in 1901, and then they give to the larger
populations of to-day the representatives only which the smaller
populations of 1901 would have had. It is obvious that 65,000 as
a divisor of the population in 1906 means a far larger quotient of
representatives to all the larger constituencies which call for addi-
tional or new seats than it did in 1901 to those same constituencies.
If the population had increased in rateable proportion in all the 670 con-
stituencies it would be immaterial. But it is not so. The very cause
of the present serious anomalies is well known to be the enormous
increase in the large centres of population, and the stagnation or
diminution in the small ones. If the 65,000 rule be faithfully applied,
it is obvious that the largest number of people which any one member
could represent would be 129,999. But the fact is faj different, as
we shall see.
The next figure which the plan proposes to fix is a minimum
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840 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Not.
of qnalifioation for existing seats. It fixes 18,500 popoktion as a
minimum, but applies it in certain cases only. Any existii^ sini^-
member constituency having less than that number loses its m^aber.
But this is not applied uniformly as a minirmifn qualification in all
cases. I shall show that in many casfs under the plan a &r less
number qualifies for a seat.
This figure 18,500 as a minimum is arbitrary. There is no
'principle' in it. It is equal to about 3,010 electors only. No
reasons for it are given. Its efiEeot is simply to take away nine
borough seats, viz. : four in England (Bury, Durham, Qrantiiam, and
Falmouth), one in Wales (Montgomery District), three in Ireland
(GhJway, Kilkenny, and Newry), and one in Scotland (Wick) ; but it
leaves twenty-two other smi^ seats untouched, which have less than
5,000 electors each and less than 30,000 population. It is true that
nearly every one of these small seats might have been dealt with and
brought over a much higher line than 18,600, and up to about 30,000,
by simple enlargement of their boundaries, but this the Government
do not propose. I submit that 30,000 is the very lowest line wfaidi
ought to be allowed for one constituency. It is equal to less
than 6,000 electors, and as against constituencies of even 129,999
population, or 20,000 electors, is scarcely fair.
The very next 'principle' of the Government plan relates to
two-member constituencies. It deprives of one member every county
or borough with two members and less than 75,000 population, except
the Qty of London. This figure, also, is arbitrary. There is no
' principle ' in it. No doubt some figure it was necessary to fix, but
this one is open to the objection that, if their first ^ principle ' of
65,000 for a seat is to hold good, 10,000 becomes the qualifying
number for the second member instead of 18,500. Is it fair that
18,600 should be the qualifying number for single-member existing
seats, and 10,000 in a double-member constituency, while even 65,000
is, as we have seen, required to qualify for a new seat ! Why, at
least, is not the qualifying minimum for single seats made to i^jdy
also in the case of two-member constituencies ?
By this rule, sixteen constituencies having two members and lesB
than 75,000 population are deprived of one of their members, vis. :
two English counties, two English b<»roughs, and twelve Irish counties.
I do not say that this is wrong in the particular cases, but there is no
* principle ' in it. All but five of them have less than 65,000, and yet
retain one member. New constituencies with the like numbers are to
have no representative at all ! The datum 66,000 is therefore applied
in contrary manner to the old and to the new constituencies reepeo-
tively.
The Government plan next proposes that a county ot town wiA
three or more members and less than 65,000 population for eadi
member ia to lose a member for eachoompfefo 65,000 population of tiie
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1905 BEDI8TBIBUTI0N 841
defidency. This means that a county or town having three members
with anything over in total 130,000 all keep their seats. If they
have one less — say, 129,999 — ^they lose one member, but retain the
two remaining members. In new constituencies the same number,
129,999, win only qualify one member. One of the three or more
members may have only a small fraction of 65,000. He may have
lees than 18,500— he may even have only one — and yet he would not
lose his seat. A new constituency even, with 64,999 over 130,000,
would still only get two seats, while existing constituencies would
retain three for a less number of people. 130,001 would qualify three
existing members, while 194,999 would only qualify for two new
seats. Here, again, if 18,600 is to be the qualifying minimum, why
is it not made the minimTim for the third member ? We shall see
later on that in actual cases this qualifying minimum goes as low
as 7,124.
This rule affects the seats in six English and seven Irish
counties, viz. : Cornwall, Devon, Lincoln, Norfolk, Somerset, and
Wilts, in England, and Armagh, Cork, Donegal, Galway, Kerry, and
Tipperary, in Ireland.
But it must be remembered always that these are calculated upon
the figures of 1901, since when the population of English counties has
greatly increased, and that of Ireland in some cases diminished, so
that the one anomaly is complicated by another anomaly.
The Qovemment plan, lastly, provides as to boundaries that
a simplification of electoral areas should be effected by assimilating,
as far as practicable, the boundaries of Parliamentary counties and
administrative counties, and making the latter and better known
area the c<Jimty for Parliamentary purposes, and also by enlarging the
area of the Parliamentary borough where necessary so as to comprise
the entire area of the extended municipal borough. And in
the case of London it provides that the Metropolitan boroughs
shall be Parliamentary boroughs also, each with its appropriate
number of representatives computed as if it were a pre-existing
constituency.
These proposals as to boundaries seem to be reasonable and desir-
able.
Such is the Govermnent plan. Unfortunately, the resolution
never having been moved, the Qovemment had no opportunity of
explaining to the House what were the * principles ' upon which they
based the arbitrary figures in their proposal, and the Memorandum
was not explanatory on the subject. Why ?
The net result of the whole Grovemment proposal, worked out
as if the population remained the same as it was in 1901, would be
as follows :
First as to seats. Thirty-nine new seats are created, and thirty*
nine seats are taken away, so as to leave the number, 670, unaltered.
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Of the thirty-nine new seats—
6 are added to conntiee in England ;
14 are added to boroughs in England outside London ;
5 are given to London boroughs ;
6 are given to new boroughs in Enj^and (three in Essex, and
three in Middlesex) ;
2 are given to Wales, one being added to Cardiff, and one new
borough, Rhondda ;
4 are added to the Scotch borough of Glasgow ;
1 is added to Scotland, county Lanark ; and
1 is added to Ireland, Belfast.
The thirty-nine seats to be given up are :
8 by English counties ;
6 by English boroughs ;
1 by a Welsh borough ;
1 by a Scotch borough ;
20 by Irish counties ; and
3 by Irish boroughs.
Next, as to disparities. The result which the Qovemment daim is
that the extreme disparity between proposed constituencies wiU be
reduced to about 6-8 to 1. This is not so, as I now proceed to show.
He should have said * would have been reduced to that proportion if it
had been done in 1901.' The six extreme examples of highest and
lowest constituencies, as the plan alleges they will be (if the plan
is adopted), are given in the President's Memorandum (Table c) as
follows :
<(c) Proposbd Constitubncibs, 1905 (Onb Mbmbbb)'
1901
*PoptilatloDof lATgeftOonstitoenolei* ,
IMS
-
1901
-
IWl
179,064
189,626
188,998
184,589
188,465
120,486
Lewisham .
Woolwich .
Middlesbrough
Willesden .
Bhondda
Hammersmith
127,495 1
117,178 1
116,546
114,811
118,785
112,289
Buteshire .
Peebles and Selkirk
St. Andrews Dist. .
Whitehaven .
Bntland
Salisbary
18,641
19,106
19^11
19,824
19,709
20,185
19,547
19,684
18^16
20,740
18356
28,085
Lewisham with 127,495 was the highest, and Buteshire with
18,641 the lowest. The ratio of which is no doubt 6*8 to 1. But it
will be noted that, although the table is headed ^Proposed Con-
stituencies, 1906,' it does not state what is the fact, that all the figures
are those of 1901. Those of 1906, ^diich I have inserted in the
out^ columns on either side of the above table, are seen at onoe
to considerably alter that ratio.
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1906 BEDI8TBIBUTI0N 848
The highest now is Lewisham with 179,064, and the lowest Rutland-
shire with 18,866. The proportion of these is not 6*8 to 1, but 9-6
to 1, and in 1906 the same rate of progress would make it 10*4 to 1.
The disparity after redistribution in 1885, according to the Presi-
dent's Memorandum, was 6*8 to 1. I think, in reality, it was 8 to 1.
His figure was perhaps based upon the similar error then committed
of going back to the figures of the previous Census of 1881. My
figures are based on the actual data of the year 1886. At all events,
during the twenty years which have since elapsed, the disparity has
increased to 30 to 1. If the same rate of growth of disparity is to
take place under the Bill of next year, and we begin with a disparity
of 9 or 10 to 1, it will in ten years' time have increased to 20 to 1.
But another evil result of going back to the figures of 1901 is this.
In the above table it will be noticed that in five out of the six examples
of highest constituencies, the Government plan by applying the divisor
66,000 to the population of 1901 leaves these constituencies with one
member only ; whereas, if the same divisor, 65,000, is applied to their
actual population of to-day (1905), these five constituencies are, on the
(Government's own * principle,' each entitled to two members, as their
population has, in the meantime, passed the point of 130,000, that is
twice 65,000. So that as regards these and also many other consti-
tuencies, the Qovemment do not apply their own ^ principle ' that
every county or borough ^ shall have an additional member for every
complete 66,000 of the excess.'
If other examples are wanted of this unfairness, and also of the
incorrectness of the alleged disparity, I would refer to the three
highest now existing constituencies referred to in the President's
Memorandum (Table b) as follows :
* (6) Pbbsekt Constituencies (One Mbmbbb) '
Bomford (he puts at) • 217,086 x / 825,908
WalthamBtow • . 185,549 [ but which in 1905 are estimated at ] 260,782
Wandsworth . • . 179,877) 1265,892
against which he contrasts the smallest constituencies :
Newry .... 18,187 x / 18,291
Kilkenny . . . 18,242 [but which in 1905 are estimated at] 9,524
Durham. • . . 15,122 J I 15,180
The disparity between the highest and lowest of these, as the
President put them, is no doubt 16*6 to 1, by the figures of 1901,
although his table does not say they are the figures of 1901.
The figures of 1905, which I have added, show that the present
extreme disparity is quite 30 to 1. Romford has risen from 217,086
to about 826,900, and Walthamstow from 186,549 to about 260,780,
each representing much more than 66,000 in excess of the number
upon which the Government plan proposes to enfranchise them. As
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844 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Nov.
regards deotorate, Bomford has increased from 29,316 in 1901 to
44,012 in 1906, or an inoreaee of nearly 60 per oent. In Walthamstow,
the electorate has increased from 24,187 to 33,994, an increase of
about 40 per cent. Wandsworth (my own constitnency) is a case ci
peculiar injustice. Its population in 1901, with the addition ci
dapham parish, which is now to be added to Wandsworth Boron^
to make it conterminous with the mnnicipal boronji^, was 231,922.
But it is estimated by the Begistrar-General in 1906 at 265,392, and
according to rateaUe assessments and other particulars, indnding
immigrati(m and new houses, &e., which are not taken into account
by the Begistrar-Oeneral, is considered by the Mayor and many
borough councillors of Wandsworth to be nearly 300,000. But,
taking only the Begistrar-General's estimate ot 266,392, and dividing
it by 66,000, it is dear that on the Govemm^it's own * prindide '
we are entitled to four members, whereas the Government wo^ out
tiieir proposal so as to give us only three members — ^that is to say,
only one in addition to the present members for Wandswortii and
Clapham. The electorate of Wandsworth in 1901 was 20,790. In
1906 it is 29,846, an increase of 9,000 in four years or 46 per cent. Is
it possible that Mr. Qerald Balfour would suppose that the population
had not increased in like proportion ?
Many other similar instances can be given. On the whde I
estimate that at least 120 seats must be provided for these excessive
constituencies, instead of only thirty-nine — ^if the Government plan is
pursued. By my plan (published February 1^) I provided for all
except thirty-five by readjustment with their neighbours, and mostiy
within their county boundaries, and with that small number, never-
theless, worked out all the 670 constitu^ides into limits of 3 to 1.
The injustice that the large constituencies suffer is not only in
the diminished voice which they have in the counsels of the nation,
but their local duties and local taxation are increased in an inverse
proportion to their diminished voice.
It is not unfair to point out that had we in the House of Commons
passed the Government Besolution in its terms when presented, it
would have bound the Government to make the 66,000 datum figure
apply to the present populations, and not to those of 1901. The
Resolution itself did not even mention the CeASus of 1901 » and in
terms spoke entirely in the present tense throughout.
The varying rates of increase in population, as between the large
and small constituencies, will be found dgnificantly illustrated by
the President's Tables (a) and (&). In the f<»mer, the six highest
constituencies after Redistribution in 1886 were all between 80,000
and 90,000, while in 1901 the six highest were all between 116,000
and 220,000, i.e. a rise of 100 per cent, in sixteen years. The increase
since 1901 may be inferred. It has in some cases been in even
greater proportion. On the other hand, the smallest constituencies
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1906 BEDI8TBIBUTI0N 846
decreased from 15,278 to 13,137. The estimated figures for 1905
of these six highest are 60 per oent. more than in 1901, the total of
tiie six being now 1,468,929, while the six lowest are only 88,966 in
total.
The tinfaimess of going back five years and treating all con-
stituencies by the divisor of 1906 is thus accentuated.
I now take the President's own illustrations of the working
out of his rules. As an example of a constituency with an excess
of population— he takes ^Portsmouth with (he says) 188,923
inhabitants, and which at present returns two members. Twice
65,000 or 130,000 deducted from 188,923 leaves an excess of 58,923 ;
but as 58,923 falls short of a complete 65,000, it is not entitled under
the scheme to an additional member.' The ordinary reader of this
sentence would presume that 188,923 was the present number of
inhabitants ; but, in fact, the present number is 201,975 as estimated
by the Registrar-Oeneral, which number would give three times
65,000, and a surplus over, and would entitle Portsmouth to a third
member upon the Government's own ^ principle ' of 65,000 being a
sufficient number to qualify a member.
Then, again, take another of his examples under the same rule — ^he
says Surrey, with 519,766 inhabitants, at the present time returns
six members, which at 65,000 each would represent 390,000. This
shows an excess of population unrepresented of 129,766, which, he
says, entitles Surrey to one additional member only. He adds, ' if the
excess had amounted to 130,000 (instead of 129,766), Surrey would
have been entitled to two additional members.' But these being the
figures of 1901, it should be perfectly obvious that the excess of
129,766 has in the four years long since increased to many more
than 130,000. The population of Surrey, in fact, is now estimated
at over 600,000. If it has only 234 more than in 1901, it is clear on
the Government's own rule that it is entitled to two additional
members instead of one.
Take his example to illustrate his Rule 6 — i.e. where a constituency
is not required to have a complete 65,000 to qualify, and does not
make 18,500 the minimum for disqualification. Oxfordshire, with a
population of 137,124, at present returns three members. Three
members at 65,000 each would represent 195,000, of which number
they were short by a deficiency of 57,876, but as this falls short of a
complete 65,000, Oxfordshire does not lose a member, although it is
obvious that if two of its members represented 65,000 each, the third
member can only represent 7,124, which thus becomes the qualifying
number for one seat. If Oxfordshire were a new constituency with
the same population of 137,124, it would only be allowed two members.
I take another example, not quoted by him, Wiltshire. It has
five divisions with one member each. Total population 254,412.
Average per member 50,882. One member is taken away from the
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846 THE NINETEENTH CENTUB7 Nov.
county, because there weie not quite 65,000 each for four of than in
1901. They were short by only 5,588, and I am credibly informed
that the population sinoe 1901 in the county has increased to 263,000,
theeffect of which is to give 65,000 to each of four members and a sur^diui
of 3,000. Moreover, Salisbury, the only borouji^ in the county, with
a population of 19,421 only, is allowed to remain side by side
with five divisions who are reduced to four, although they have an
average of over 50,000 each. The effect of this is that a Salisbury
elector has a voting power of over three times that of the county
electors.
The (Government scheme does not reach many very great dis-
parities inside the county boundaries. Take, for instance, South-
ampton, which has six members and 400,180 population. This is
left untouched. The Fareham division, whose electorate seems to
increase by 1,100 a year, in 1904 was 17,120. This is the equivalent
of 102,891 people, whereas the average of the other five members is
only about 70,000.
The case of the City of London, having a population who are not
resident occupiers within its boundaries, and are not numbered in the
Census, and therefore do not get the benefit of any scheme based cm
population, is one of peculiar hardship under the Government's pro-
posals. The Census is taken, as we know, at night — ^that is, of the
population who sleep within the confines of the City. The exigencies
of commerce in the course of centuries have involved the conversion
of almost every building in great cities into of&ces, warehouses, and
other business establishments, in which few people, other than care-
takers, ever reside. The real occupiers are absent. The consequence
is that the population of the City in the Census of 1901 was odj
26,923, whereas the electors amounted to 32,647, with two members.
If the equivalent of these electors in population were taken, not
by caretaJcers, but by the ordinary g^ieral average proportion in tiie
United Kingdom of electors to population, it would represent about
192,000 of population. This, according to the (Government plan of
65,000 being a qualifying number, would give to the City three mon-
bers instead of two. It is admitted that the City of London, from
its very exceptional and unique circumstances, should be treated
exceptionally. The Government plan treats it exceptionally, it is
true, but simply by doing nothing for it.
The result of the (Government plan upon the Representation
of the United Kingdom as a whole even carried out upon the popu-
lation of 1901, would be as follows : It leaves 336 constituencies
under 65,(X)0each, and representing a total population of 17,293,289,
and the remaining 334 constituencies over 65,000 each, representing
24,165,432 (exclusive of universities), a majority of about seven
millions unrepresented. And, of course, it will be much worse in
1906. Here also is a proof that, even if the disparity were limited
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1906 BEDI8TBIBUTI0N 847
to 6*8 to ly it is an unsafe disparity, and one which might easily, in
oiicnmstanoes, cause the will of the majority of the nation to be
subverted by their having only a minority of the representation.
But this disparity of seven millions is by no means that which exists
in this year 1906, or which will exist next year. Most of the large
constituencieB which have increased are those included in the 334
minority, and therefore, if there is unsaf ety upon the Government
plan as applied to 1901, there must be a very much greater risk when,
as I have shown, the ratio of the Oovemment'a 6*8 will be increased
next year to 10*4.
The case of Ireland requires special mention. The Government
plan treats Ireland with great leniency. I do not complain of leniency
being shown to Ireland. In principle I approve it — but within
reason. The present proposal is one of excessive leniency. We are
threatened with vehement opposition on the part of Irish Nationalist
members to any plan which will deprive them of any members. Their
claims must be examined. The Government plan takes away twenty-
two members from Ireland out of its 103. It ought to take at least
thirty-one to make it equal to Scotland. The Irish daim that their
present number 103 must not be reduced. They daim this under
the Act of Union of July, 1800. They say that that Act was a treaty
between England and Ireland, and cannot be altered by Act of the
Imperial Parliam^it, or without the express and separate assent of
the Irish people. They daim in fact a veto upon any Act of Parlia-
ment which would in any way alter the Act of Union. The number
of members given to Ireland by the Act of Union was 100, not 103.
The Act of Union was an Act of Parliament which was passed sepa-
rately, both by the then Irish Parliament and by the British
Parliament. There was no other document in the nature of a treaty.
It reserved neither to British nor Irish any rights of veto, or of assent
or power of alteration, except by the United Parliament.
Both Ireland and Britain by the Act of Union surrendered their
separate powers to the United Imperial Legislature. The Act of
Union has been repeatedly altered by Act of the United Parliament,
twice as regards the number of members, but more notably in the
clause which of all others is expressly stated to be an ^ essential and
fundamental part of the Union' — viz. Clause 5, which united and
established the Church of England and Ireland.
The number of Irish members was altered from 100 by Act of
the Imperial Parliament, first in 1832, when the number was iucreased
to 106; and secondly in 1885, when it was reduced to 103, the present
number. Those alterations were made prindpally on the basis of
population. That basis being now again altered and the population
of Ireland diminished, while Great Britain's population has largdy
increased, gives the right to have the proportion readjusted.
! The President's Memorandum states the result of the Govern-
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848 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Not.
ment's soheme as between the different parts of the United Kingdom,
as follows — viz. :
that if representation was in strict proportion to population, EngUmd and Wales
would return 518 members, Scotland 71, and Ireland 71, ezolusiYe in each case
of the Universities ; in other words, England and Wales would gain 28 seals
and Scotland one seat, while Ireland would lose 80 seats. Under the proposed
scheme the actual gain to England and Wales is 18, and to Scotland 4,
Ireland losing 22.
But, again, these are all according to the Census of 1901.
If applied to the population of 1906, the disparity between the
four parts would, of course, be shown to be much greater. The
excessive representation of Ireland might be shown by a few further
sentences. The taxation oi Ireland, according to the Exchequer re-
turns of 1904, is only 6| per cent, of the taxation of the United
Kingdom, while its population is 10 per cent., udd, according to the
(Government plan, it would have over 12 per cent, of the repieaentati(»i
in the Imperial Parliament.
The members for Romford, Walthamstow, and Wandsworth
represent more electors (107,852) than sixteen Irish seats (105^565),
that is three votes against sixteen in Parliament, with an equivalent
number of voices, speeches, and other powers.
According to electorates Ireland should surrender thiftff'Seom
seats — ^by population thirty-one. The (jovemment plan, going back
to figures of 1901, only takes twenty-two. Why ? Why is Scotland,
with a population exceeding that of Ireland, to have only seventy-five
(though only entitled to seventy-one) while Ireland gets ei^ty-one 1
Although I have in this paper throughout adopted the basis of
population as proposed by the Government for the sake of showing
the effects of their plan, I venture the opinion that electorates
are really the preferable and the proper basis for representatkm.
The reason alleged for preferring population, viz. that it avoids the
thorny question of the plural vote, is not in my humble opinicHi well
founded. The Opposition have already intimated their determina-
tion to raise the question of the sufErage and the plural vote. And
that question must in any [case be faced and fought upon its own
merits. And why not ? The Opposition will not have all the reason-
ing, nor the best of the reasoning, on their side. No party ought to
fear the result of a fair and open discussion. The advantages of
making Electorates the basis are great. The electcnn of a consti-
tuency are the body which really according to law represent the
political value of that con£(titaency. They are practically all the
adult men of the place. Their opinion and vote may be safdy and
properly assumed to cover the interests of the women and children.
To take population per census (i.e. the sleeping population on one
given night in ten jrears) works manifest injustice in cases of Itagt
oitieSi where the men who represent the real value and voice of the
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1906 . BEDI8TBIBUTI0N 849
plaoe and bear its burdens of taxation and other responsibilities
do not sleep in it at alL In fact, I know no meaning whicb can be
given to the cry of ^ one vote one value ' in present circumstances,
except by a plural vote of some kind to those so entitled, either by
contribution to taxation (general and local) or by other burdens
or qualifications. We have long since given one vote to every man,
literate or illiterate, worthless or worthy. Every grown man in the
country is able to get on the Register of Electors, his only qualification
being that he shall be known to live somewhere (transfer of residence
allowed). Is taxation to be altogether divorced from representation ?
When wiU we * one vote one value ' advocates have the courage to go
for it ? Electorates as a basis would have helped to secure it.
Electorates have also a further advantage over population as a
basis for automatic readjustment. The Registers of Electors are
judicially revised in every year. The result is recorded. The pro-
gress or retrogress of constituencies is therefore annually seen«
When these returns show that any constituency has got either above
or below the prescribed limits, it could be made the duty of of&cials
to examine and report to Parliament forthwith what readjustments
are necessary to bring such constituencies within the limits.
Having now, as I hope, fairly stated the Grovemment plan and
the way it works, I venture to submit some observations and sug-
gestions which I trust may assist in amending the plan.
The principle of any plan for proper representation of the people
should, in my humble judgment, be first to determine the limits of
the disparity which should be allowable between the highest and
the lowest constituency. A counsel of perfection would of course
be that every one of the 670 members should represent an equal
number or value of people, i.e. with no disparity at all. But exact
equality is, of course, impossible. The shifting, changing circum*
stances from day to day prevent.
The traditional aversion to equal electorates never had much
reason at the bottom of it. The real fight should be to secure the
voter his voting value in the community. Fair representation must
mean some approach to equality whether of population or electors.
I can understand the objection to equal electoral areas, cutting up
tiie country like a chessboard. It is people, not places, which have
to be represented. And as their votes must be taken in the places
they live in, the traditions, historical and characteristic, of those
places are necessarily preserved. To extend their boundaries as Nature
has already done does not destroy their identity or their traditions.
Their characteristics do change — ^wiU ye, nill ye. Equal electoral
values, whether by votes or by noses, or the nearest possible approxi*
mation to them, is what aU good plans of representation must aim at.
As the President in his Memorandum says, prior to the great Reform
Bill of 1832, population*as a determining element in representation
Vou LVm— No. 146 ' 8 k
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860 THE NINETEENTH OENTUBY Nov.
was practically ignored. The Reform Acts of 1832 and 1868 removed
many anomalies, but in my opinion proceeded rather upon a rale
of thumb principle, i.e. as the Memorandum sap, no ^ rule or method
capable of exact expressi(m.* The Act of 1885 proceeded upon a more
or less definite numerical plan (rather lees than more), and he admits
that thk numerical principle once introduced is not likely to be aban-
doned. But all parties have seemed, for one reascm or another, to
^ funk ' the adoption, or even the assertion, of any real * principle,'
and to prefer our usual happy-go-lucky way of doing things — ^I suppose
it suits the genius of the Britisher in general. The value of the mim
and the voting power he should have is left to be obtained in othei
ways. It is, in fact, a reason why electorates constitute the better
ba^. Existing little areas must of course be extended and advance
with the time.
The nearest practicable and reasonable approximaticm to equality
either of population or electorates therefore is the thing to be aimed at.
Indeed, with the slightest possible departure from equality, a majority
oi representatives may represent a minority in number of the people,
but the nearer to equality we can get, the less is the likelihood that a
minority which would presumably be at least nearly one-half would
difiEer from the mass of the people on any one great subject. The
question is, how near can we get to equality, and what shall be the
limits of deviation ? How much above and how much below the
exact average may a constituency be ? The wider the limits, tiie
greater is the risk of misrepresentation of the people. Conv»»dy,
the narrower the limits, the less is the risk.
In former papers and plans I have suggested tiiat a disparity
of 3 to 1 between the highest and the lowest constituency is the widest
which safety says we should allow. This would mean tiiat, assuming
the average to be 65,000, the limits of deviation above and below
that figure would be 60 per cent, above and 50 per cent, below it.
The TnaTimiini limit would then be just three times as many as tiie
minfmnTn liwiit below. AaariTning the nuj-gimiiTn and Tninimnm tO
be equally distant from the average figure 65,000, the nuiTininni
would be 91,060, and the minimum 30,360, which are in the {hto-
portion of 3 to 1. It is, however, not essential tiiat these two limits
should be equidistant from the average figure, and I think that,
having regard to the fact that the certainty is that the average
figure wiU itself annually increase, and that the numbers above the
average line will probably increase in a greater proportion than the
figures under the line, it might be desirable to make the mA'giTnfiin
limit rather more distant from the average figure than the lower one —
for instance, taking 65,000 as the average figure, the maximum m%ht
be 100,000 and the Tnimmnnn 33,333, which would still be the pro-
portion of 3 to 1. If we can only settie the future limit of possible
dii^Mffities we should for the first time have settled a constitutional
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1906 BEDISTBIBUTION 861
principle. At the great Conservative meeting at Blenheim in August
1901 the present Prime Minister and Mr. Cihamberlain spoke of the
necessity of readjusting the anomalies in our electoral system. In a
letter to the Times of the 12th of August, 1901, 1 had suggestedS to 1 as
a mayimum disparity. That letter was discussed by Mr. Arthur Balfour
and Lord James of Hereford, and approved by them as a fair ratio.
Lord James informed me afterwards that he and Mr. Balfour had read
my article together throughout on their way from Blenheim and
that Mr. A. Balfour had authorised him to tell me that he approved
of it in principle. At the suggestion of Lord James, I thereupon
subsequently worked out my plan in detail, and submitted the draft
of it to him, and he kindly examined and returned it with his approval.
I published that in January 1902, in which I repeated that proposal
of 3 to 1, and until the present Government proposals came out, it
has never been disputed as a reasonable principle.
From the figures shown in the former part of this paper the extreme
maximum of population of the highest constituency is 264,712 popu-
lation, and the minimum 13,291 estimated population. It is obvious,
therefore, tibat the constituencies above 65,000 reach very much
further above that average line than the minimum does below it,
the maximum being nearly 200,000 above and the minimum about
57,000 below. I submit, at all events : first, that the proportion
of 3 to 1 is the largest disparity which can safely be allowed, and
secondly, that the maximum and minimum should, as &r as possible,
— ^if not equidistant from the average line — ^be fixed at some specified
limit above and below it, but always within the extreme of 3 to I.
An arrangement for automatic raising of both Umits in the same
degree as the average figure rises unih the actual poptdation — say
at least every ten years — can then be easily brought into the
process.
That question — ^the limits of disparity allowable — once settled,
it will be seen on examination tibat all other points and difficulties
faU into their places. The order goes forth that such and such a
maximum and minimum is to be the principle, and thereupon all
existing constituencies and their boundaries are to be so enlarged,
divided, or reduced as to bring every one within those limits. It will
be found, I believe, that so many coxmties and their boroughs within
them, and also the large multiple boroughs, can be so adjusted
ifUer se that they can all be brought within the Umits without much
difficulty ; that only about thirty-five entirely new seats will be
required, and that nearly all the seats required can be obtained
by adjustments with the smaller constituencies without disfranchise-
ment.
Can we not agree upon such a principle — or must we again for
another twenty years go on with no principle settled, and fresh ano-
malies given birth to and increasing every day i
8e2
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869 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Nov-
The method of treating the Gbyemment plan, and the amendmeate
I would propose in it, are then as follows : —
(1) First to fix as a principle the extreme linuts of allowable
disparity, both for present and fatore action. I hope for the ratio of
8 to 1. Then fix the limits above and below the average figure which
will accord with that ratio. Any exceptions to be stated specifically.
(2) Constituencies in excess of the Tnaximum limit to be brough-t
under it in all possible cases by adjustment with other constitnenoiefr
in same county or adjoining county. The same in large boroughs.
All excesses not coverable by such adjustments to have a new member
for every 66,000 of such excess.
(3) Constituencies below the minimum Umit to be so enlarged or
similarly adjusted with their neighbours as to bring them above the
minimum.
(4) Adopt for the present reform the figure 66,000 as a good
estimated average of the constituencies in 1906, but apply it as a
qualifying number for new seats to the population not of 1901, but of
1906. Such population to be estimated and certified by the B^^istEar-
General upon the best materials obtainable by him.
(6) Disfranchise no constituency that can by enlargement of
boundaries be brought within the prescribed limits^ nor any seat
already within those limits.
(6) As to the future, I would insert a provision in the Bill for
automatic revision, to the effect that in every year after the Census-
year, t.e. every ten years, on its appearing by the Census Return
that the increase or decrease of the population in any constituency
has been such as to cause that constituency to exceed the mRTimmn
en fall below the minimum limit, reference thereof shall ipso facta
be made to Boundary Commissioners, or other authority, to report
what alterations or readjustments, if any, are necessary to bring the
said constituencies within the limits. And that such report should
immediately be laid before Parliament for such action, if any, as it
should think fit. The average figure 66,000 would of course annually
rise, and the maximum and minimum figures would of course rise
with it.
If these amendments are made, I venture to think the Ctovem-
ment plan will be carried with the substantial approval of both sides^
of the House. It will necessarily tread upon some ' corns ' in parti-
cular cases. That is inevitable in all redistributions, but personal'
and individual interests must be cheerfully surrendered for the-
common good.
Hbkby Eimbbb.
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1906
LIBERALS AND FOREIGN POLICY
It seems to me, if I may say so, in spite of Sir Edward Grey's strong
and decided speech at the City Liberal Club, that the Liberal press
and the Liberal party are in danger of committing a rather serious
mistake. They have an abundance of subjects on which to attack the
Government. The great issue of Free Trade and Protection, which
may be disguised but cannot be avoided, will and must be fought out
when Ministers appeal to the country. The Education Act raises in a
neat and compendious form the principle of religious equality. The
Licensing Act is the endowment of a trade with money which might
be put to better uses, and could hardly be put to a worse one. Besides
these three outstanding questions, of which the first is incomparably
the most important, there are plenty of others, from Chinese labour
to Welsh coercion, which will provide walls with decoration and
candidates with ammxmition. In the circumstances it seems hardly
necessary to make use of foreign affairs for the purpose. There
Are no doubt occasions when foreign policy cannot be kept out. In
1880, for instance, it was the principal topic of the General Election.
The late Lord Salisbury, the present Prime Minister, and Mr. Chamber-
lain did their best to make it so in 1900. The South African war
was either just and necessary or a blunder and a crime. It was the
duty of those who thought it wrong to say so, notwithstanding the
abuse and unpopularity they might incur. Among the most con-
sistent and courageous of its opponents was Mr. Leonard Courtney,
who now comes forward as a serious critic of the Japanese AUiance
and the French understanding. Mr. Courtney objects to all alliances,
on the ground tibat they tie the hands of future Ministries. He
prefers ' splendid isolation,' a phrase which the present Lord Goschen
borrowed from a Canadian source. Splendid isolation suggests
fervid peroration and is excellent for rhetorical purposes. But, from
a practical point of view, it is nonsense, it means nothing at alL If
this country had no interests in conmion with any other, isolation
might be a wise, though it would hardly be a splendid, attitude, and
if there are such interests it would be neither splendid nor wise. Mr.
Courtney regards it as a humiliation to rely upon Japan for the defence
of India. If we were unable to defend India without Japanese
668
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864 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Kov-
aasistanoe, that might be so. But England, as Disraeli said long ago,
is a great Asiatic Power> and cannot be indifferent to possible ccm.*
binations in the East. Let us suppose, for the sake of the argument,
that Japan had made an alliance with Russia after the war. Even
Mr. Courtney, with all his love of isolation, would hardly say that
such an event did not concern the rulers of India. England and
Japan between them can control the destinies of Asia. The proper
test of the Japanese alliance was, I think, suggested by Mr. Haldane
at Haddington last month. Does it, or does it not, make for peace !
It is purely defensive in its scope. So far from irritating Russia,
it has already drawn from influential newspapers at St. Petersburg pro-
posals for an Anglo-Russian understanding. An invasion of India may
not have been very probable before. It is practically impossible now.
Why should the friends of peace, men who detest, as I do, the un-
English word prestige, object on the score of wounded dignity to
such a result as that ? The remarkable disclosures alleged to have
been made by M. Delcass^ are certainly more favourable to Mr.
Courtney's view. They would have atkacted less notice in September.
In October the faculty of invention has usually subsided, and people
are less inclined to believe that Lord Lansdowne told M. Delcassi
how many troops England would send to Schleswig-Holstein if Ger-
many were attacked by France. As many as she sent in 1864, when
Denmark, which then owned Schleswig-Holstein, was attacked by
Germany.
It is not, however, with Mr. Courtney that I want to argue. He
disapproves of both treaties on their merits and, like an honest man,
he says so. The Liberal leaders do not all agree with him. Mr. Asquitii
has expressed an opposite opinion, as well as Sir Edward Grey. Sir
Robert Reid, on the other hand, depreciates the Alliance, and Liberal
newspapers suggest that England might take a leading part in recon-
ciling Germany with France. Continental readers draw the inference
that a Liberal Administration would be less friendly than Mr. Balf our^s,
both to France and to Japan. As almost everyone believes, rightly or
wrongly, that a Liberal Administration will come into o£Eice within a
year, both alliance and understanding are regarded as insecure. That
this opinion is unfavourable to British interests scarcely requires prooi
It is true that the treaty with Japan has been made for ten years. But
there are two ways of carrying a treaty out, and to enforce it against
an unwilling €k>vemment is almost impossible. As for France, the
whole arrangement depends upon the spirit which French and English
statesmen show to each other. The only Enj^h statesman besides
Mr. Courtney who has denounced the Treaty with France is Lord
Roeebery. But Lord Rosebery, if I understand him, now recognises
it as an accomplished fact, and is disposed to make the best of it
accordingly. If every Liberal did the same, both in regard to France
and in regard to Japan, it would be better for the Liberal party, and
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1906 LIBERALS AND FOREIGN POLICY 866
for the nation as a whole. No useful purpose is ever gained in politics
by carping and cavilling. If these treaties are bad, they should be
denounced, I mean in the popular sense of the word. If, on the othef
himd, they are good, they should be upheld, and their authors should get
Uie credit of them. They do in fact carry out Liberal policy. There
was no warmer friend of France than Mr. Qladstone, and the first
concessions to Japan were made by Lord Rosebery. Lord Lansdowne
is not of&ciaUy immaculate. He was responsible for that absurd
blunder, the joint bombardment of Venezuela, which recalled Lord
Russell's unlucky share in the French expedition to Mexico. Among
contemporary Englishmen the one thorough-going advocate of friend*
ship with Germany at all costs is Mr. Chamberlain. Is not that
enough to deter Liberals from displaying so much solicitude in pleasing
Hie Emperor William ? Let them never forget that it was Mr. Cham-
berlain who proclaimed from the housetop, at the crisis of the South
African war, that Grermany, imlike France, was a country with
which we could never quarrel. Mr. Chamberlain may have a good
reason for his preference. Perhaps it is the Grerman tariff. Perhaps
it is the Zollverein. Or it may be the food of the working classes.
In France they understand liberty, and their protective duties are com-
paratively harmless to themselves, because they do not import com.
Englishmen, at least Englishmen in general, do not want to quarrel
with Germany. They are not alarmed by the revelations of Igno-
ramus, or the musings of Senex, or the mutterings of Anus, or the
premature bequest of Diplomaticus Jam Rude Donatus to his bereaved
countrymen. But as a question of common sense and public interest,
they ask themselves what the Grerman Emperor means. His inter-
ference in Morocco would not have waited for the Anglo-French
agreement if it had been primarily directed against France. His
object, in which he has hitherto failed, was to break up that agree-
ment, and I can hardly suppose that any Liberal wishes to help him.
England and France standing together are at this moment the best
security for the peace of Europe, and French sympathy can only be
retained if both parties in England show themselves equally anxious
to retain it. But there is one way in which it will not be retained^
and that is by advising France to make friends with Germany.
Although M. Delcass6 has gone, and the Conference is to be held, the
relations between the two countries are the reverse of cordial. The
English Treaty, with all that it implies, is popular in France because
it tends to preserve the European equilibrium, to protect the French
Republic from ^ splendid isolation.' Russia has for the time ceased
to count, not so much on account of her defeats in battle as because
tiie internal condition of the country absorbs the energies of the
(Jovemment. The Austro-Hungarian Monarchy is trembling on the
brink of dissolution. Italy has been for nearly twenty years in dose
connection with Germany. It is natural enough that France should
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866 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Nov.
seekanallyyand find one in herneaiest neighbom. PartJesinFianoe
can fight keenly enough about Diseetablishment, or monastic ordeo,
or the surveillance of officers. About friendship with this country
they are all agreed, and they cannot understand overtures to Qermany
which seem inconsistent with it. The Qerman Emperor is a man
of ideas, and his latest idea is said to be the ^ Anglo-Saxon PeriL'
That means the conmion action of the United Kingdom and the
United States, to which he would willingly have opposed a Franoo-
Oerman coalition. The realisati(m of this idea has been obviousty
impeded by the Flrench and British Cabinets. But it is not
impossible in itself, and it is the natural alternative to the Treaty
which Lord Lansdowne concluded with M. Delcass6. France does
not wish for isolation. Rather than be left alone she might even
now turn to the restless Potentate at Berlin. French statesmen
cannot believe in the sincerity of English advice to cultivate
Germany. They regard it as a symptom of discontent with the
Treaty, and h^ice they conclude that Liberals would reverse the
foreign policy of their predecessors. That is a very mischievous
notion to spread in France, and only Liberals can check it.
Setting aside patriotic considerations altogether, it is surely bad
tactics to fight theOovemment just where the Ctovemment is strongest
The true line to take, if only because it is true, would be tiiat Ministen
have acted on Liberal principles, and followed the example of their
forerunners. An alliance with Qermany would have been a veiy
different affair. The late Lord Salisbury's pet nostrum was to settk
things with Bismarck, and it resulted in Bismarck settling things
without him. Mr. Cihamberlain is still more Teutonic, and his foreign
policy is as antediluvian as his political economy. Mr. Balfour and
Lord Lansdowne have had the good sense to drop these delusioDs
in favour of Mr. Gladstone's preference for France and Lord Bose-
bery's preference for Japan. It would indeed be unwise for Liberab
to withhold a welcome from the repentant prodigals. If Japan
had made a Treaty with Russia after the war, the situation on the
north-west frontier of India would have been more splendid than
satisfactory. It is, I suppose, splendid isolation when Mr. Amold-
Forster congratulates the country upon having, if not an army, at
least a Secretary for War. It may be splendid, but it is not business.
Lord Lansdowne, who had been supine enough at the War Office,
saw his opportunity and took it. To admit or imply that a Liberal
Minister would have been less prompt and sagacious is the height
of imwisdom. Japan is everything that Mr. Chamberlain most detests.
Her conmiercial policy, which has made her rich, is the baldest
Cobdenism. Free Trade with British India in rice and cotton is her
salvation. It is her own interests, therefore, that she covenants in the
Treaty to protect, for she could ha ve no such freedom of intercourse with
a Russian possession. Russian finance must be the envy and despair of
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1906 LIBERALS AND FOBEIGN POLICY 857
theTarifi Befoim Leagae. The Russian taiifi is the most scientific in
the world, and must be admiied by all who think that taxes are good
things in themselves. Any attempt to touch Free Trade in India,
which will for the next five years have a Protectionist Viceroy, would
be fatal to the Japanese aUiance, as well as to the prosperity of India
herself. I can imagine a Tarifi Reformer objecting to the Treaty,
especiaUy as it wiU allow foreigners to trade in China. LiberaJs
ought to welcome it, for they would have made it themselves.
The case for the Liberal party can be best put in a shape not
injurious but beneficial to the interests of the country as a whole.
'Tou have succeeded,' they can say to the Grovemment, ^in the
latest phases of your foreign policy, because you have adopted our
principles. Tou failed in earlier efforts, as you have failed all along
in legislation and in your economic programme, because there you
adopted your own.' It was only after they had broken down with
Germany that the Grovemment tried France, and it is in Qermany that
their proposed Zollverein was made. They might never have thought
of Japan if Lord Rosebery had not given them a lead. Liberal Japan
and Republican France are better allies than Qermany or Russia
for an England becoming more and more Liberal every day. Not
that any Liberal wishes to quarrel with either Qermany or Russia.
On the contrary, the Japanese alliance has made it less difficult to be
on good terms with Russia in Asia, and Oermany will not seek to
disturb, because it will not be her interest to shake, an Anglo-French
agreement which has once been firmly established. Throughout the
n^otiations between France and Qermany about Morocco, the British
Cabinet, without directly interfering, made it plain that they would
support France in any event. They would go into a conference if
France did ; otherwise not. A Liberal Minister would have said so too.
Lord Salisbury, with the best intentions, tried the plan of surrender to
Qermany, but it did not succeed, and no Liberal can wish to repeat
it. The Qerman Emperor has always been his own Foreign Minister.
He took the first opportunity to get rid of Bismarck, and hissubsequent
efforts at diplomacy have been about equally wise. He is now trying
to rival the British fleet, and that will take him a considerable time.
The British fleet is the greatest safeguard for Continental peace ever
yet devised. It was ten years from Trafalgar to Waterloo. But of
the two battles Trafalgar was the more decisive. In spite of Austerlitz,
it was Nelson who gave Napoleon the first mortal blow, and taught
him the lesson that the one irretrievable mistake of his career had
been not to make terms with England. That the centenary of Trafalgar
should have found a number of representative Frenchmen the honoured
guests of the King and the English capital is an instructive and
felicitous coincidence. Liberals who revere the memory of Fox
may recollect his sympathy with the French Revolution^ and his
resistance to the French war before Napoleon had made peace
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868 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Nov.
impossible. It is a more pzsctioal leflection that a dii^ute between
England and Fiance in 1793 was not finally detennined till 1815. If
the enienU oardiale holds oat till 1927, botii conntries wiU have shown
that they know what use to make of a precedent.
Libeials are s<Hnetimes accused of having no foreign policy at alL
The accusation does not come from very intelligent persoiis, and it
sometimes takes forms of ludicrous extravagance. When, for example^
a Cabinet Kinister convicted of departmental inefficiency blurts out
on a platf <»m that his critics are the friends of the enemies of their
country, his colleagues sneer, his opponents smile^ and no harm is
done to anything more valuable than his own reputation. At tiie
same time, it is not wise for leading Liberals toavoid the subject, and
thus give a handle to the other side. They forgo ike Intimate
advantage of reclaiming, like Moli^re, their own property where they
find it. The Germanising policy which prevailed in the Cabinet while
Mr. CSiamberlain sat there is not Liberal, and did nothing but harm.
Happily it has been repudiated by its own authors, and thus excluded
from the region of party. Mr. CSiamberlain once kindly offered to
teach the French manners. But a sense of humour was never his
strong point, and he is no longer in a position to speak witib official
authority. French and English Liberals have a common enemy in
priestcraft. With them it shows itself in monastic orders. Here we
find it in denominational schools. Next to India, Egypt is by far the
most splendid, really splendid, instance of British administration.
Its success is due to a Liberal, Lord Cromer, and France has witii
characteristic generosity acknowledged British rights in Egypt. Lord
Lansdowne is now endeavouring, perhaps with insufficient zeal, but
certainly in good faith, to fiee Macedonia from the tyranny of the
Porte. In that Liberal policy, which Mr. Bryce and other Liberals
have never ceased to press upon him, he has no warmer supporter than
France. If there be an obstacle to the concerted action of the Powers
against Turkey, it is Germany. When Mr. Gladstone denounced the
f<»eign policy of LordBeaconsfield in Midlothian, he laid down positive
and definite principles of his own. Whether he always adhered to
them in office is another question. Lord Salisbury never attempted
to revive the projects of his departed chieL I do not believe that
there is anything in the new foreign policy of the Government of which
Mr. Gladstone, if he were alive, would disapprove. It was the habit
of that illustrious man, whose example may still be followed by some
Liberals, to support in foreign affairs the Government of the day,
unless there were between them and him some broad difference ol
moral or political principle. Of Lord Salisbury's foreign policy in
1887, when the Triple Alliance was first formed, he expressed definite
and emphatic approbation. As things have turned out, both Lord
Salisbury and he may be thought to have erred in foresight. Humannm
est errare. But politicians who find fault with the adoption of their
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1905 LIBEBAL8 AND FOBEIGN POLICY 859
own principles by their opponents show a more than human pro-
pensity to error. Of one thing we may be quite sure. If they
get the chance, Mr. Balfour and Lord Lansdowne, the only members
of the Cabinet who count, will make the most of their foreign
policy. They would be great fools if they did not. They will, how-
ever, produce little impression upon most electors, unless the Liberal
leadeis play into their hands. If Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman
and Mr. Asquith say plainly that they have always been in favour
of acting with France in the West and with Japan in the East, like
Mr. Gladstone and Lord Rosebery, foreign policy will at once be
removed from the contest, and the majority against dear food will be
overwhelming. Otherwise many voters may be drawn into the
Ministerial camp by a plausible cry that the ^ other fellows' are
parochial, and have no foreign policy of their own. As a matter of
fact, they had a foreign policy of their own, and its appropriation by
Lord Lansdowne is the sincerest form of flattery. But there seem
to be some Liberals who would go in for Protection if Mr. Balfour
went in for Free Trade.
A ^champion hustler' who boasts of being ^in the know' is
reported to have said that the Qovemment ^ would romp in at the
polls by running the Colonies for all they were worth.' The develop-
ment of exuberant patriotism thus indicated is, I conceive, somewhat
as follows. A Colonial Conference will be summoned early next year
in the ordinary course. Some Colonial delegate will propose a
preferential tarifi for the British Empire under which protective,
if not prohibitory, duties would be laid upon foreign goods. The
Colonial Secretary, duly coached, will reply that nothing would
give him greater pleasure than to propose such an arrangement,
but that there are in Parliament noxious animalfl called Free Traders,
of whom only a Greneral Election can get rid. Now that the gaff
has been blown the plant will very likely not bloom. The Colonies
have no great wish to take a part in the party politics of the Mother
Country, even to play the game of such a Grovemment as this. Still,
it is as well to be prepared. If Liberals are denounced as enemies
of the Empire, and all the rest of it, they will have to take up the
challenge, and point out who the real enemies of the Empire are. No
aspect of the fiscal question can be blinked. That makes it all the
more important that irrelevant topics should be cleared out of the
way. A Liberal cannot be expected to praise the foreign policy of the
present Government as a whole. If he did, he would be expressing
his belief in contradictories and setting up for a theologian. Let him
say what he Ukes about Venezuela, or about the more recent and
burning question of Chinese labour. But there are members of
Parliament, and even editors of newspapers, who fail to perceive
that in tike case of France and in the case of Japan a fresh
policy has been adopted which is first pacific and secondly Liberal.
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860 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Not.
The striking victoiy of the Liberal candidate for Barkston AjBh,
whioh would by itself be significant, and as the culmination of a
series is unmistakable, increases the responsibility of tiie Oppod-
tion. It implies, among other things, that electors draw no dis-
tinction between the fiscal poUcy of Mr. Balfour and the fiscal policy
of Mr. Chamberlain. Mr. Andrews, who was returned, is tiie first
Liberal member for the constituency, which was created by the
Redistribution Act twenty years ago. He was for Free Trade pure
and simple, * without frills and furbelows,' as he put it. Mr. Lane-
Fox, the popular Master of Hounds whom he defeated, craned at Hbe
gaps. He would, and he wouldn't. He would ^ retaliate ' without
taxing food or raw material, which is like threatening to knock a
man down with your hands tied behind you. So far as the numbers
and the other features of an election show, his caution did him
neither good nor harm. The majority, duly instructed by the Free
Trade League, took the sensible view that, though there might be
many kinds of Protection, there was only one kind of Free Trade,
and they would stick to it. That is a plain, straightforward issue,
which the people must decide. Sir Eidward Grey raised another
at Manchester when he declared, fervent advocate of the South
African War as he was, that a Liberal Grovemment would sanction
no more contracts for Chinese labour in the Transvaal. At the same
time he gave his adhesion both to the Japanese alliance and to the
Anglo-French understanding. But in this direction he might have
gone a littie further. He spoke as if he could not help acknowledging
that the Government were right. Surely it is his Majesty's Ministers
who have acknowledged that the Liberals were right. It is hardly
possible to imagine a more complete reversal of their old policy than
these two treaties involve. If anyone wishes to realise the ext^it
of it, let him turn, as a matter of curiosity, to Mr. CSiamberlain's
speech at Leicester in November 1899, when he was Secretary of
State for the Colonies, and must be assumed to have expressed the
opinion of Lord Salisbury's Cabinet. Ten years before, when the
Conservative Grovemment of the day. Lord Salisbury's Government,
refused to take part in celebrating the centenary of French Repub-
licanism, Mr. Gladstone attended a public dinner in Paris, and roused
extraordinary enthusiasm, which had nothing to do witii his accent
or his idiom, by a sympathetic speech in French. He had doae his
best, he and Lord Granville, to act with France in Egypt. Ministers
pride themselves, not unjustly, upon having secured British pre-
dominance in that part of the Sultan's dominions, thus carrying
out the truly British poUcy of dismembering the Turkish Empire*
But who first occupied Egypt ? Mr. Gladstone. Who tried in 1887
to get out of Egypt? Lord Salisbury. Was it a Conservative
Government that used force rather than evacuate Egypt in 1892 ?
It was not. Only ignorance or impudence can assort that Lib^al
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1905 LIBERALS AND FOREIGN POLICY 861
statesmen have been careless of British interests abroad, or slow to
assert them by all means consistent with justice and honour. Hitherto
the chief obstacle to continuity in the adnuhistration of foreign affairs
has been the ^ harebrained chatter of irresponsible frivolity ' which,
in the lack of sense, knowledge, and ideas, seeks to supply their place
by the formula that political opponents are the enemies of England.
Happily this random rubbish is now recognised as the stammering
excuse of conscious ineptitude, which has no other meaning than
an admission of failure.
Liberals can only be injured by themselves. What other people
say of them no longer matters. If by-elections mean anything
at aU, they have a steady, solid majority in Qreat Britain. It is
altogether tmsafe to rely upon ^the swing of the pendulum.' The
doctrine which that phrase embodies is a fallacy of imperfect observa-
tion, drawn chiefly if not entirely from the years 1868, 1874, and
1880. If the clerical Education Act of 1902 had not been passed,
and if Mr. Chamberlain had not attacked Free Trade, I doubt very
much whether tiiere would be a Liberal majority. The results of
Mr. Chamberlain's policy in South Africa may not be all that its
champions expected. But many of its champions were Liberals,
and they would be in a difficult position if they had no other battle-
ground. With Free Trade and unsectarian education the Liberal
party has not only come together again, but drawn many recruits
from the outside. There are also plenty of social reforms to be under-
taken, and Ireland cannot be neglected, though I must not embark
upon the Irish question here. Liberals can afford to be magnani-
mous, especially when magnanimity is also prudence. That incom-
petence in high places has much to do with the unpopularity of the
Government is plain. Some of Mr. Balfour's assistants at five
thousand a year would find it difficult to earn thirty shillings a week
in any employment except statesmanship. But criticism is all the
more effective for not being indiscriminate, and Lord Lansdowne's
political opponents may well acknowledge that he has done much,
while advancing British interests, to promote the cause of peace.
When Lord Bosebery first became Foreign Secretary in 1886, he
announced at once his adhesion to his predecessor's policy in pre-
venting an attack upon Turkey by Greece. Lord Salisbury returned
to office so soon that no breach of continuity could well occur,
and, as a matter of fact, foreign affairs did not again sharply divide
public opinion till 1899. Even the policy which led to the South
African War and the annexation of the Bepublics did not so much
separate parties as cut athwart them, and at the General Election of
1900, Liberals were in opposite camps. It remains, therefore, true
that not for a quarter of a century has the foreign policy of a Gtovem-
ment been challenged by a united Opposition at the polls. There
wiU be no such challenge when this Parliament is dissolved. Ministers
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862 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Nov.
will naturally pose as the authois of a brilliant scheme with which
their opponents have no fault to find. That is a claim which wiD
get them many votes if Liberals meet it by merely hinting a
doubt and hesitating dislike. If they say frankly that the policy
is their own because it unites Liberal Powers for Free Trade and
peace, they will turn the tables and get the votes themselves. They
will do no good by tampering with Mr. CSiamberlain's exploded
Teutonomania, nor will they conciliate Russia by throwing cold
water on the alliance with Japan. False friends are not coveted by
those on the look out for friendships. If Russia becomes the friend
of England, it will be partly because England is the friend of France,
and partly because Prince Lobanofi does not care to have the British
and Japanese navies against him in any Eastern combination. For
the Russian people, Englishmen have nothing but sympathy and good-
will For C^trdom and its satellites they have the deepest abhorrence.
It is the Liberals of Russia who desire to promote relations with this
country, and they were never in favour of war with Japan. They
welcomed the peace, and the alliance, because it is in tike nature of a
guarantee that the peace will not be broken. Their support, the only
support worth having in Russia, will not be obtained by depreciating
the treaty with Japan. The enthusiastic reception given to Sir
Qerard Noel and his squadron at ToUo shows that the original dis-
appointment with the terms is subsiding in Japan, and that Great
Britain is not regarded as having forced them upon the Japanese
Government. One Japanese statesman, til^ Marquis Ito, &vourB
treaties with military monarchies which do not change their politics
after elections. He ought to know that British friendship for Japan
was of Liberal origin, and is therefore not in the least likely to be
diminished when the Liberals come into power. The late Amir of
Afghanistan, Abdur Rahman, dictated a most entertaining collection
of memoirs, which were published in Europe. Not the least amusing
passage in the book described a visit paid to the Amir by Mr. Geoige
Curzon, now Lord Curzon of Eedleston. Abdur Rahman, in the
course of conversation, complained that his troops had not been
protected by England when they were attacked by Russians at
Penjdeh. Mr. Curzon hastened to assure his Highness that a Liberal,
not a Conservative, Grovemment was responsiUe for this grievous
n^lect. His Highness, who had a keen sense of humour, laughed
heartily and long. What on earth was that to him ? How could he
tell what set of British Ministers would be in office when his next
trouble with Russia occurred ? This particular Treaty with Japan is
for ten years certain, and no doubt does stretch the treaty-making
power of the Crown. But no objection was raised in Parliament to
the Treaty of 1902, which this continues and enlarges. Germany may
have some reason to complain of his Majesty's Government. For,
although the entente cordiaie is not directed against her, the pdioy
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1906 LIBEBAL8 AND FOBEIQN POLICY 868
nnderljnng it entirely reverses wliat Lord Lansdowne inherited from
Lord Salisbury. Still, that has nothing to do with Liberals and their
conduct. ^ Who with repentance is not satisfied is not of Heaven or
earth.* Lord Lansdowne's foreign policy may be inconsistent with
Lord Salisbury's, with Mr. Chamberlain's, with his own performances.
It is Liberal, patriotic, pcM^ifio, and therefore all Liberals should support
it. By carping at it they would only injure their party, their country,
and themselves.
Professor Dicey, at the close of his most valuable and suggestive
lectures on Law and Opinion in: England^ says that ^ the day of small
States appears to have passed.' ' We may regret,' he adds, * a fact
of which we cannot deny the reality.' ^ Great empires,' he adds, ^ are
as much a necessity of our time as are huge mercantile companies.'
The learned Professor might also have speci&ed gigantic comers in
wheat. By great, I take it, Mr. Dicey means large. For great
nations, as Disraeli said, are those which produce great men.
The inference, rather a sweeping one, appears to have been suggested
by the second annexation of the Transvaal. It is not, however, new.
It was the fixed idea of the philosophic imperialist Xerxes just before
the battle of Salamis. Only the other day Nicholas the Second
was so firmly convinced of it that he hesitated to make war on Japan,
lest he should compromise the dignity of his * great ' Empire by the
easiest conquest of so small a State. Liberals have never been addicted
to the sensual idolatry of mere size, nor will they subscribe to a pro-
position which, thank God ! is as false as it is ignoble. They were the
friends of Greece when it was part of Turkey. They were the friends
of Belgium when it was part of the Netherlands. They were the
friends of Italy when Mettemich called it a geographical expression.
They were the friends of Japan long before she had crushed one of
those unwieldy masses which look great to the vulgar eye. Even
as a ^ going concern,' the Bepublic of Switzerland would have a better
quotation than the Austro-Hungarian Empire, and Germany has
not subdued the Hereros by threatening to cut off all their heads.
Japan is Liberal in the modem and European sense. She may be
called great because she has produced great soldiers, and a sailor
whom history may rank with Nelson. Her statesmen have shown that
thay can look beyond the present moment, and prefer the future
interests of their country to the pleasure of humiliating a foe. In
Japan there were not two opinions about the late war. In Russia
all the best opinion was against it, and against the stupid despotism
which made it possible. A Liberal and Constitutional Russia, if such
an idea could be realised, would be as friendly to Japan as England
is, and a more congenial ally of the French Republic than ever Czar-
dom could be. Lord Lansdowne was not always a Conservative,
and it is not for Liberals to discourage his return to Liberal ways.
Before that happy event he dragged his country at the heels of the
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German Emperor in a Soath American adventure which only deaerveB
oblivion. If he has since done exactly what Lord Bosebery would
have done in his place, he merits >eomething warmer than sombrB
acquiescence from the party to which he once belonged. Nou$
revenons taujaur$ it nos premiera amo%tr$. From a partnership with
(Germany for coUectdng bad debts to an assurance that France would
be protected against German aggression, if * unprovoked,' would
certainly be a wide jump. But Uiere never was a more vital ' it'
and reddess denunciation of German policy, in Morocco or elsewhere,
is as foolish as the servile flattery of 1899. The understanding with
France is directed against no Power which does not seek wantonly
to disturb the peace of Europe, and there is no object which German
statesmen more frequently disclaim.
Hbrbbbt Paul.
The Editor of The Nineteenth Centdey oannat undertake
to retwm v/naccepted it 88.
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AND AFTER
I XX
XIX
No. CCCXLVI— December 1905
THE REVOLUTION IN RUSSIA
Events in Russia are following one another with that rapidity
which is characteristic of revolutionary periods. Eleven months ago,
when I wrote in this Review about the constitutional agitation in
Russia,' the Congress of the Zemstvos, which had timidly expressed the
desire of having some sort of representative institutions introduced
in Russia, was the first open step that had been made by a collective
body in the struggle which was going to develop itself with such an
astounding violence. Now, autocracy, which then seemed so soUd
as to be capable of weathering many a storm, has already been forced
to recognise that it must cease to exist. But between these two events
so many others of the deepest importance have taken place that they
must be recalled to memory, before any safe conclusion can be drawn
as to the probable farther developments of the revolution in Russia.
On the 10th of August, 1904, the omnipotent Minister of the In-
terior, Von Plehwe, was killed by the revolutionary Sodalist, Sazonoff .
' NyneUinih Century, January 190^,
Vol. LVm— No. 846 8 L
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Plehwe had undertaken to maintain autocracy for another ten jeaa,
provided that he and his police were invested with unlimited powers ;
and having received these powers, he had used them so as to make
of thepoUce the most demoralised and dangerous body in tike State.
In order to crush all opposition, he had not recoiled from deporting
at least 30,000 persons to remote comers of the Empire by mere
administrative orders. He was spending immense sums of money
for his own protection, and when he drove in the streets, surrounded
by crowds of poUcemen and detective bicyclists and automobiUsts,
he was the best guarded man in Russia — ^better guarded than even the
Tsar. But all that proved to be of no avail. The system of poKoe rule
was defeated, and nobody in the Tsar's surroundings would attempt to
continue it. For six weeks the post of Minister of the Interior re-
mained vacant, and then Nicholas the Second reluctantly agreed to
accept Sviatopolk Mirsky, with the understanding that he would
allow the Zemstvos to work out some transitional form between
autocracy pure and simple, and autocracy mitigated by some sort of
national representation. This was done by the Zemstvos at their
congress, in November of last year, when they dared to demand ^ the
guarantee of the individual and the inviolability of the j^vate dwdl-
ing,' ' the local autonomy of self -administration,' and ^ a close inter-
course between the Government and the nation,' by means of a specially
elected body of representatives of the nation who would ^ participate
in the legislative power, the estabUshment of the budget, and the
control of the Administration.' '
Modest though this declaration was, it became the signal for a
general agitation. True, the Press was forbidden to discuss it, but
all the papers, as well as the municipal councils, the scientific societieB,
and all sorts of private groups discussed it nevertheless. Then,
in December last, the * intellectuals ' organised themselves into
vast unions of engineers, lawyers, chemists, teachers, and so on —
all federated in a general Union of Unions. And amidst this agita-
tion, the timid resolutions of the Zemstvos were soon outdistanced.
A constituent assembly, elected by imiversal, direct, and secret
sufErage, became the watchword of all the constitutional meetiogs.
This demand was soon as popular as the paragraphs of the Charts
were during the Chartist agitation.
The students were the first to carry these resolutions in the street,
and they organised imposing manifestations in support of these
demands at St. Petersburg, Moscow, and in all the univecaily
towns. At Moscow the Grand Duke Sergius ordered the taroops
to fire at the absolutely peaceful demonstration. Many were
killed, and from that day he became a doomed man.
Things would have probably dragged if the St. Petersburg working
men had not at this moment lent their powerful support to the young
* Nineteenth Century, January 1905, p. 29.
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1906 THE BEVOLUTION IN BU88IA 867
movement — entirely changing by tiieir move the very face of events.
To prevent by any means the ^ intellectuals ' from carrying on their
propaganda amidst the working men and the peasants had been the
constant preoccupation of the Russian Government; while, on the
other side, to join hands with the workers and the peasants and to
spread among them the ideas of Freedom and Socialism had always
been the goal of the revolutionary youth for the last forty years —
since 1861. life itself worked on their side. The labour move-
ment played so prominent a part in the life of Europe during the
last half-century, and it so much occupied the attention of all the
European Press, that the infiltration of its ideas into Russia could
not be prevented by repression. The great strikes of 1896-1900 at
St. Petersburg and in Central Russia, the growth of the labour organisa-
tions in Poland, and the admirable success of the Jewish labour organi-
sation, the Bund, in Western and South- Western Russia proved,
indeed, that the Russian working men had joined hands in their
aspirations with their Western brothers.
There is no need to repeat here what Father Gapon has told already
in his autobiography ' — ^namely, how he succeeded in grouping in a few
months a considerable mass of the St. Petersburg workers round all
sorts of lecturing institutes, tea restaurants, co-operative societies, and
the Uke, and how he, with a few working-men friends, organised
within that mass, and linked together, several thousands of men
inspired by higher purposes. They succeeded so well in their under-
ground work that when they suggested to the working men that they
should go en masse to the Tsar, and unroll before him a petition,
asking for constitutional guarantees, as well as for some economical
changes, nearly 70,000 men took in two days the oath to join the
demonstration, although it had become nearly certain that the demon-
stration would be repulsed by force of arms. They more than kept
word, as they came out in still greater numbers — about 200,000
— and perdsted in approaching the Winter Palace notwithstanding
the firing of the troops.
It is now known how the Emperor, himself concealed atTsarskoye
Selo, gave orders to receive the demonstrators with voUey-firing ;
how the capital was divided for that purpose into military districts,
each one having at a given spot its staff, its field telephones, its ambu-
lances. . . . The troops fired at the dense crowds at a range of a few
dozen yards, and no less than from 2,000 to 3,000 men, women, and
children fell the victims of the Tsar's fears and obstinacy.
The feeling of horror with which eye-witnesses, Russian and
English, speak of this massacre surpasses description. Even time
will not erase tiiese horrible scenes from the memories of tiiose who
saw them, just as the horrors of a shipwreck remain engraved for
ever in the memory of a rescued passenger. What Gapon said
' The Strand Magatrine, July to November 1905.
3l%
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immediately after the massacie about * the viper's brood ' of ^the whob
dynasty was echoed all over Russia, and went as far as the vaUeys
of Manchuria. The whole character of the movement was changed
at once by this massacre. All illusions were dissipated. As the
autocrat and his supporters had not shrunk from that wanton,
fiendish, and cowardly slaughtering, it was evident that they would
stop at no violence and no treachery. Since that day the name of
the Romanoff dynasty began to become odious amon^ the working
men in Russia. The illusion of a benevolent autocrat who was going
to listen paternally to the demands of his subjects was gone for
ever.
Distrust of everything that might come from the Romanofib took
its place ; and the idea of a democratic republic, which formerly was
adopted by a few Socialists only, now found its way even into the
relatively moderate programmes. To let the people think that they
might be received by the Tsar, to lure them to the Winter Palace,
and there to mow them down by volleys of rifle-fire — such crimes are
never pardoned in history.
If the intention of Nichoks the Second and his advisers had been to
terrorise the working classes, the effect of the January slaughter was
entirely in the opposite direction. It gave a new force to the labour
movement all over Russia. Five days after the terrible * Vladimir *
Sunday, a mass strike broke out at Warsaw, and was followed by
mass strikes at Lodz and in all the industrial and mining centres of
Poland. In a day or two the Warsaw strike was joined by 100,000
operatives and became general. All factories were dosed, no tram-
ways were running, no papers were published. The students joined
the movement, and were followed by the pupils of the secondaiy
schools. The shop assistants, the clerks in the banks and in all
public and private commercial establishments, the waiters in the
restaurants — all gradually came out to support the strikers. Lodz
joined Warsaw, and two days later the strike spread over the mining
district of Dombrowo. An eight-hours day, increased wages,
political liberties, and Home Rule, with a Polish Diet sitting at
Warsaw, were the demands of all the strikers. We thus find in these
Polish strikes all the characteristics which, later on, made of the
general strikes of October last so powerful a weapon against the
crumbling autocratic system.
If the rulers of Russia had had the slightest comprehension of
what was going on, they would have perceived at once that a new
factor of such potency had made its appearance in the movement,
in the shape of a strike in which all classes of the population joined
hands, that nothing remained but to jdeld to their demands ; other-
wise the whole fabric of the State would be shattered down to its
deepest foimdations. But they remained as deaf to the teachings of
modem European life as they had been to the lessons of history ; and
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1906 THE BBVOLUTION IN BUSSIA 869
when the striken appeared in the streets, organising imposing mani-
festations, they knew of no better expedient than to send the order :
* Shoot them ! ' In a couple of days more than 300 men and women
were shot at Warsaw, 100 at Lodz, forty-three at Sosnowice, forty-
two at Ostrowiec, and so on, all over Poland !
The result of these new massacres was that all classes of society
drew closer together in order to face the common enemy, and swore
to fight till victory should be gained. Since that time governors of
provinces, officers of the police, gendarmes, spies, and the like have been
killed in all parts of Poland, not one day passing without some such
act being recorded ; so it was estimated in August last that ninety-
five terrorist acts of this sort had taken place in Poland, and that
in very few of them were the assailants arrested. As a rule they
disappeared — ^the whole population evidently helping to conceal
them.
11
In the meantime the peasant uprisings, which had abeady begun
a couple of years ago, were continuing all over Russia, showing, as is
usually the case with peasant uprisings, a recrudescence at the
beginning of the winter and a falling oS at the time when the crops
have to be taken in. They now took serious proportions in the Baltic
provinces, in Poland and Lithuania, in the central provinces of Tcher-
nigov, Orel, Kursk, and Tula, on the middle Volga, and especially in
Western Transcaucasia. There were weeks when the Russian papers
would record every day from ten to twenty cases of peasant uprisings*
Then, during crop time, there was a falling off in these numbers, but
now that the main field work is over, the peasant revolts are beginning
with a renewed force. In all these uprisings the peasants display a
most wonderful imity of action, a striking calmness, and remarkable
organising capacities. In most cases their demands are even very
moderate. They begin by holding a solemn assembly of the mir
(village commimity) ; then they ask the priest to sing a Te Deum for
the success of the enterprise ; they elect as their delegates the wealthiest
men of the village ; and they proceed with their carts to the land-
lord's grain stores. There they take exactly what they need for
keeping alive till the next crop, or they take the necessary fuel from
the landlord's wood, and if no resistance has been offered they take
nothing else, and return to their houses in the same orderly way ;
or else they come to the landlord, and signify to him that imless he
agrees to rent all his land to the village community at such a price —
usually a fair price — ^nobody will be allowed to rent his land or work
for him as a hired labourer, and that the best he can do is therefore
to leave the village. In other places, if the landlord has been a good
neighbour, they offer to buy all his land on the responsibility of
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the oommime, for the price which land, sold in a lump, can fetch in
that neighbourhood ; or alternatively they offer such a yearly rent ;
or, if he intends to cultivate the land himself, they are ready to
work at a fair price, slightly above the now current prices. But
rack-renting, renting to middlemen, or renting to other villages in
order to force his nearest neighbours to work at lower wages — all
this must be given up for ever.
As to the Caucasus, the peasants of Guria (western portion of
Georgia) proceeded even in a more radical way. They refused to
work for the landlords, sent away all the authorities, and, nominating
their own judges, they organised such independent village com-
munities, embodying a whole territory, as the old cantons of
Schwyz, Uri, and Unterwalden represented for several centuries in
succession.
All these facts point in one direction. Rural Russia will noi
be pacified so long as some substantial move has not been made in
the sense of land nationalisation. The theoridans of the mercantile
school of economists may discuss this question witii no end of argu-
ment, coming to no solution at all ; but the peasants are evidentiy
decided not to wait any more. They see that the landlords not only
do not introduce improved systems of culture on the lands which
they own, but simply take advantage of the small size of the peasant
allotments and the heavy taxes which the peasants have to pay, for
imposing rack-rents, and very often the additional burden of a middle-
man, who sub-lets the land. And they seem to have made up thdr
minds all over Russia in this way : ' Let the Grovemment pay the
landlords, if it be necessary, but toe must have the land. We shall
get out of it, under improved culture, much more than is obtained
now by absentee landlords, whose main income is derived from the
civil and the military service.'
It may therefore be taken as certain that such insignificant
measures as the abandonment of arrears or a reduction of the
redemption-tax, which were promulgated by the Tsar on the 18th of
this month (November), will have no effect whatever upon the peasants.
They know that, especially with a new famine in view, no arrears
can be repaid. On the other hand, it is the unanimous testimony of
all those who know the peasants that the general spirit — ^the men-
talitif as the French would say — of the peasant nowadays is totally
changed. He realises that while the world has moved he has re-
mained at the mercy of the same wyadnik (village constable) and
the same district chief, and that at any moment, for the mere ex-
position of his griefs, he can be treated as a rebel, flogged to death
in the teeth of all laws, or shot down by the Cossacks. Therdbre
he will not be lulled into obedience by sham reforms or mere promises.
This is the impression of all those who know the peasants from inter-
course with them, and this is also what appears both from tiie official
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1905 THE BEVOLUTION IN BU88IA 871
peasant congress which was held last summer, and from the unofficial
congresses organised by revolutionary socialists in more than one
hundred villages of Eastern Russia. Both have expressed the same
views : * We want the land, and we shall have it.*
in
The peasant uprisings alone, spreading over wide territories,
rolling as waves which flood to-day one part of the country, and
to-morrow another, would have been sufficient to entirely upset
the usual course of affairs in Russia. But when the peasant insurrec-
tion is combined with a general awakening of the working men in
towns, who refuse to remain in the old servile conditions ; when aH
the educated classes enter into an open revolt against the old system ;
and when important portions of the Empire, such as Finland, Poland,
and tiie Caucasus, strive for complete Home Rule, while other por-
tions, such as Siberia, the Baltic provinces, and Little Russia, and
in fact every province, claim autonomy and want to be freed
bom tiie St. Petersburg bureaucrats — ^then it becomes evident that
the time has come for a deep, complete revision of all the institutions.
Every reasoning observer, everyone who has learned something in
his life about the psycholc^ of nations, would conclude that if any
concessions are to be made to the new spirit of the time, they
must be made with an open mind, in a straightforward way, with a
deep sense of responsibility for what is done — not as a concession
enforced by the conditions of a given moment, but as a quite con*
scions reasoned move, dictated by a comprehension of the historical
phase which the country is going through.
Unfortunately, nothing of that consciousness and sense of re<*
sponsibility is seen among those who have been the rulers of Russia
during the last twelve months. I have told in my memoirs how
certain moderate concessions, if they had been granted towards the
end of the reign of Alexander the Second or at the advent of his son,
would have been hailed with enthusiasm, and would have paved the
way for the gradual and slow passage from absolutism to representa-
tive government. Even in 1895, when Nicholas the Second had
become Emperor, it was not too late for such concessions. But it
was also evident to everyone who was not blinded by that artificial
atmosphere of bureaucracy created in all capitals, that ten years
later — that is^ in November last — such half-hearted concessions as a
* Consultative Assembly ' were ahready out of question. The events
ol the last ten years, with which the readers of this Review are familiar
— ^the students' affair of 1901, the rule of Plehwe, and so on, to say
nothing of the abominable blunders of the last war — ^had already
created too deep a chasm between Russia and Nicholas tiie Second «
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The January massaciee widened that ohasm still more. Therefoie
only an open recognition of the right of the nation to frame its own
constitation, and a complete, honesi amnesty, granted as a pledge of
good faith, could have spared to Bussia all the bloodshed of the last
ten months. Every intelligent statesman would have understood it.
But the cynical courtier, Boulyghin, whom Nicholas the Second and
his mother considered a statesman, and to whom they had pinned
their faith, was not the man to do so. His only policy vras to win
time, in the hope that something might turn the scales in favour of
his masters.
Consequently, vague promises were made in December 1904, and
next in March 1905, but in the meantime the most reckless repression
was resorted t#— not very openly, I must say, but under cover,
according to the methods of Von Plehwe's policy. Death sentences
were distributed by the dozen during the last summer.^ The worst
forms of police autocracy, which characterised the rule of Plehwe,
were revived in a form even more exasperating than before, because
governors-general assumed now the rights which formerly w^re vested
in the Minister of the Interior. Thus, to give one instance, the
Governor-General of Odessa exiled men by the dozen by his own will,
including the old ex-Dean of the Odessa University, Frof essor Yaro-
shenko, whom he ordered (on the 26th of July) to be transported to
Vologda I And this went on at a time when all Bussia began to
take fire, and lived through such a series of events as the uprising
of the Musulmans and the massacres at Baku and Nakhichevan ; the
uprising at Odessa, during which all the buildings in the port were
burned; the mutiny on the ironclad Knyaz Potemkin; the second
series of strikes in Poland, again followed by massacres at Lodz,
Warsaw, and all other chief industrial centres ; a series of uprisings
at Biga, culminating in the great street batties of the 28th of July —
to say nothing of a regular, uninterrupted succession of minor agrarian
revolts. All Bussia had thus to be set into open revolt, blood had to
run freely in the streets of all the large cities, simply because the
Tsar did not want to pronounce the word which would put an end
to his sham autocracy and to the autocracy of his camarilla. Only
towards the end of the summer could he be induced to make some
concessions which at last took the shape of a convocation of a State's
Duma, announced in the manifesto of the 19th of Augusts
IV
General stupefaction and disdain are the only words to express
the impression produced by this manifesto. To begin with, it was
evident to anyone who knew something of human psychology
* A nuxtiber of these are enumerated in La T^ribufie Busset pablished at Paris,
No. 88, p. 497.
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1906 THE REVOLUTION IN RUSSIA 878
that no assembly elected to represent the people could be maintained
as a merely comuUative body, with no legislative powers. To impose
sach a limitation was to create the very conditions for producing the
bitterest conflicts between the Crown and the nation. To imagine
that the Duma, if it ever could come into existence in the form
under which it was conceived by the advisers of Nicholas the Second,
would limit itself to the functions of a merely consulting board,
that it would express its wishes in the form of mere admces, but
not in the form of laws, and that it would not defend these laws as
such, was absurd on the very face of it. Therefore the concession
was considered as a mere desire to bluff, to win time. It was received
as a new proof of the insincerity of Nicholas the Second.
But in proportion as the real sense of the Boulyghin * Constitu-
tion ' was discovered, it became more and more evident that such a
Duma would never come together; never would the Bussians be
induced to perform the farce of the Duma elections under the Boulyghin
system. It appeared that under this system the city of St. Petersburg,
with its population of nearly 1,500,000, and its immense wealth,
would have only about 7,000 electors, and that large cities having
from 200,000 to 700,000 inhabitants would have an electoral body
composed of but a couple of thousand, or even a few hundred electors ;
while the 90,000,000 peasants would be boiled down, after several
successive elections, to a few thousand men electing a few deputies.
As to the nearly 4,000,000 of Bussian working men, they were totally
excluded from any participation in the political life of the country.
It was evident that only fanatics of electioneering could be induced
to find interest in so senseless a waste of time as an electoral campaign
under such conditions. Moreover, as the Press continued to be gagged,
the state of siege was maintained, and the governors of the diflerent
provinces continued to rule as absolute satraps, exiling whom they
disliked, public opinion in Bussia gradually came to the idea that,
whatever some Moderate Zemstvoists may say in favour of a com-
promise, the Duma would never come together.
Then it was that the working men again threw the weight of their
will into the contest and gave a quite new turn to the movement.
A strike of bakers broke out at Moscow in October last, and they
were joined in their strike by the printers. This was not the work
of any revolutionary organisation. It was entirely a working men's
afEair, but suddenly what was meant to be a simple manifestation
of economical discontent grew up, invaded all trades, spread to
St. Petersburg, then all over Bussia, and took the character of such
an imposing revolutionary manifestation that autocracy had to
capitulate before it.
When the strike of the bakers began, troops were, as a matter of
course, called out to suppress it. But this time the Moscow working
men had had enough of massacres. They offered an armed resistance
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to the CoBsacks. Some three hundred men barricaded themflelves
in a garret, and a regular fight between the besieged working men and
the besieging Cossacks followed. The latter took, of course, the upper
hand, and butchered the besieged, but then all the Moscow working
men joined hands with the strikers. A general strike was declared.
' Nonsense ! A general strike is impossible ! ' the wiseacres said, even
then. But the working men set earnestly to stop all work in the great
city, and fully succeeded. In a few days the strike became genenJ.
What the working men must have suffered during these two or three
weeks, when all work was suspended, and provisions became extremely
scarce, one can easily imagine ; but they held out. Moscow had no
bread, no meat coming in, no light in the streets. AH traffic on the
railways had been stopped, and the mountains of provisions which,
in the usual course of life, reach the great city every day, were lying
rotting along the railway lines. No newspapers, except the proclama-
tion of the strike committees, appeared. Thousands upon thousands
of passengers who had come to that great railway centre which Moscow
is could not move any further, and were camping at the railway
stations. Tons and tons of letters accumulated at the post offices, and
had to be stored in special storehouses. But the strike, far from
abating, was spreading all over Bussia. Once the heart of Bussia,
Moscow, had struck, all the other towns followed. St. Petersburg
soon joined the strike, and the working men displayed the most
admirable organising capacities. Then, gradually, the enthusiasm and
devotion of the poorest class of society won over the other classes.
The shop assistants, the clerks, the teachers, the emplojr^s at the
banks, the actors, the lawyers, the chemists, nay, even the judges,
gradually joined the strikers. A whole country had struck against
its government ; all but the troops ; but even from the troops separate
officers and soldiers came to take part in the strike meetings, and
one saw uniforms in the crowds of peaceful demonstrators who
managed to display a wonderful skill in avoiding all conflict with the
army.
In a few days the strike had spread over all the main cities of
the Empire, including Poland and Finland. Moscow had no water,
Warsaw no fuel ; provisions ran short everjrwhere ; the cities, great
and small, remained plunged in complete darkness. No smoking
factories, no railways running, no tramways, no Stock Exchange,
no banking, no theatres, no law courts, no schools. In many places
the restaurants, too, were closed, the waiters having left, or else the
workers compelled the owners to extinguish all lights after seven
o'clock. In Finland, even the house servants were not allowed to
work before seven in the morning or after seven in the evening. All
life in the towns had come to a standstill. And what exasperated
tiie rulers most was that the workers offered no opportunity for shoot-
ing at them and re-establishing ^ order ' by massacres. A new weapon.
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1906 THE REVOLUTION IN RUSSIA 876
more terrible than street warfare, had thus been tested and proved to
work admirably.
The panic in the Tsar's entourage had reached a high pitch.
He himselfy in the meantime, was consulting in turn the Con-
servatives (Ignatieff, Goremykin, Stiirmer, Stishinsky), who advised
him to concede nothing, and Witte, who represented the Liberal
opinion; and it is said that if he yielded to the advice of the
latter, it was only when he saw that the Conservatives refused to
risk their reputations, and maybe their lives, in order to save autocracy.
He finally signed, on October 30, a manifesto in which he declared that
his ' inflexible will ' was —
(1) To grant the population the immutable foundations of civic liberty based
on real inviolability of the person and freedom of conscience, speech, union, and
association.
(2^ Without deferring the elections to the State Puma already ordered, to
call to participation in the Duma, as far as is possible in view of the shortness
of the time before the Duma is to assemble, those classes of the population now
completely deprived of electoral rights, leaving the ultimate development of the
principle of the electoral right in general to the newly established legislative
order of things.
(8) To establish it as an immutable role that no law can come into force
without the approval of the State Duma, and that it shall be possible for the
elected of the people to exercise a real participation in the supervision of the
legality of the acts of the authorities appointed by us.
On the same day Count Witte was nominated the head of a Ministry,
which he himself had to form, and the Tsar approved by his signature
a memorandum of the Minister-President in which it was said that
* straightforwardness and sincerity in the confirmation of civil liberty,'
* a tendency towards the abolition of exclusive laws,' and 'the avoidance
of repressive measures in respect to proceedings which do not openly
menace society and the State ' must be binding for the guidance of
the Ministry. The Government was also * to abstain from any inter-
ference in the elections to the Duma,' and ' not resist its decisions as
long as they are not inconsistent with the historic greatness of
Russia.'
At the same time a general strike had also broken out in Finland.
The whole popxdation joined in supporting it with a striking unanimity ;
and as communication with St. Petersburg was interrupted, the wildest
rumours about the revolution in the Russian capital circxdated at
Helsingfors. Pressed by the Finnish population, the Govemor-
General undertook to report to the Tsar the absolute necessity
for full concessions, and, the Tsar agreeing with this demand, a
manifesto was immediately issued, by which all repressive measures
of the last few years, including the unfortunate manifesto of the year
1899, by which the Finnish Constitution had been violated, were
rescinded, the Diet was convoked, and a complete return to the
iUUus quo anie Bobrikofi was promulgated. What a pity for the
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futoie development of Russia that on this very same day an identic^
measoie, establishing and convoking a Polish Diet at Warsaw, was
not taken! How much bloodshed would have been saved! And
how much safer the further development of Russia would have been,
if Poland had then known that she would be able to develop her
own life according to her own wishes !
Count Witte having been invested on the 30th of October with
wide powers as Minister-President^ and the further march of events
undoubtedly depending to a great extent upon the way in which
he will use his extensive authority, the question, ^ What sort of man
is Witte ? ' is now asked on all sides.
The present Prime Minister of Russia is often described as the
Necker of the Russian revolution ; and it must be owned that the
resemblance between the two statesmen lies not only in the situations
which they occupy with regard to their respective monarchies. Like
Necker, Witte is a successful financier, and he also is a ' mercantilist ' :
he is an admirer of the great industries, and would like to see Russia
a money-making country, with its Morgans and Rockefellers making
colossal fortunes in Russia itself and in all sorts of Manchurias. But
he has also the limited political intelligence of Necker, and his views
are not very different from those which the French Minister expressed
in his work, Pouvoir ExScutif^ published in 1792. 'V^tte's ideal is
a Liberal, half -absolute and half-constitutional monarchy, of which
he, Vl^tte, would be the Bismarck, standing by the side of a weak
monarch and sheltered from his whims by a docile middle-class
Parliament. In that Parliament he would even accept a score of
Labour members — ^just enough to render inoffensive the most promi-
nent Labour agitators, and to have the claims of Labour expressed
in a parliamentary way.
Witte is daring, he is intelligent, and he is possessed of an admir-
able capacity for work ; but he will not be a great statesman because
he SCO& at those who believe that in politics, as in everything eke,
complete honesty is the most successful policy. In the polemics which
Herbert Spencer carried on some years ago in favour of * principles '
in politics, Witte would have joined, I suppose, his opponents, and
I am afraid he secretly worships the ^ almighty dollar policy ' of Cecil
Rhodes. In Russia he is thoroughly distrusted. It is very probable
that people attribute to him more power over Mcholas tiie Second
than he has in reality, and do not take sufficiently into account that
Witte must continually be afraid of asking too much from his master,
from fear that the master will turn his back on him, and throw himself
at the first opportunity into the hands of his reactionary advisers.
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1906 THE BEVOLUTION IN RUSSIA 877
whom he certainly understands and likes better than Witte. But
Witte, like his French prototype, has retained immensely the
worship of bureaucracy and autocratic power, and distrust of the
masses, ^th all his boldness he has not that boldness of doing
things thoroughly, which is gained only by holding to certain funda-
mental principles. He prefers vague promises to definite acts, and
therefore Bussian society applies to him the saying : Timeo Danaos
et dona ferentea. And if the refusal he has met with on behalf of all
prominent Liberals to collaborate with him has been caused by their
complete disapproval of the policy which refuses Home Rule for
Poland, there remains besides the widely spread suspicion that Witte
is capable of going too far in the way of compromises with the palace
party. At any rate, even the moderate Zemstvoists could not agree
— we learn now — ^with his policy of half -measures, both as regards
the popular representation, and even such a secondary question as
the anmesty. He refused to accept universal 'suffrage and to grant
a complete amnesty, upon which the Zemstvo delegation was ordered
to insist.
That 'straightforwardness and sincerity in the confirmation of
civU liberty * which— the Prime Minister wrote — ^had to be accepted
as binding for the guidance of his Ministry, surely are not seen yet.
The state of siege not only continues to be maintained in many parts
of Bussia, but it has been spread over Poland ; and as to the anmesty,
its insincerity is such that it might be envied by Pobiedonostseff.
An honest anmesty is never couched in many words. It is expressed
in four or five lines ; but Witte's amnesty is a long document written
with an obvious intention of deceiving the reader as to its real tenor,
and therefore it is full of references to numbers of articles of the
Code, instead of naming things by their proper names. Thousands
of contests must arise, Bussian lawyers say, out of this muddled
document. At any rate, one thing is evident. Those who were
confined at Schliisselburg since 1881-1886— immured in secrecy
would be the proper term — and whose barbarous treatment is known
to the readers of this Beview, will net be liberated, according to the
terms of the amnesty. They will have to be exiled as poasdentsy
(criminal exiles) for another four years to Siberia, probably to ito
most unhealthy parts, before they are allowed to enter Bussia ! This,
after a twenty-four years' cellular confinement, in absolute secrecy,
without any communication whatever with the outer world ! As to
those who were driven to desperate action by the police rule of Plehwe,
they all must remain for ten to twelve years more in the Bussian
Bastille of Schlusselburg ; the amnesty does not apply to them. And
as regards the exiles abroad, they are offered the right to obtain
certificates of admission to Bussia from the Bussian State Police ! All
over the world, each time that a new departure has been made in
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878 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Dec.
geiieral poUoy, an honest {general amnesty was granted as a guarantee ctf
good faith. Even that pledge was refused to Russia. And so it is aQ
round. All that has hitherto been done are words, words, and words !
And every one of these words can be crossed withastroke of the pen,
just as the promises of a Constitution given by the Austrian Emperor
after the Vienna revolution of the 13th of March, 1848, were canoelled
a few months later, and the population of the capital was massacred
as socm as its revolutionary spirit cooled down. Is it not the same
policy that is coveted at Tsarskoye Selo ? Unfortunately, the first
step in the way of reaction has already been made by proclaiming
the state of siege in Poland.
VI
The first victory of the Russian nation over autocracy was met
with the wildest enthusiasm and jubilations. Crowds, composed of
hundreds of thousands of men and women of all classes, all mixed
together, and carrying countless red flags, moved about in the streets
of the capitals, and tiie same enthusiasm rapidly spread to the pro-
vinces, down to the smallest towns. True that it was not jubilation
only ; the crowd expressed also three definite demands. For three days
after the publication of the manifesto in which autocracy had abdicated
its powers, no aronesty manifesto had yet appeared, and on the 3rd of
November, at St. Petersburg, a crowd, 100,000 men strong, was
going to storm the House of Detention, when, at ten in the evening,
one of the Workmen's Council of Delegates addressed them, declaring
that Witte had just given his word of honour that a general amnesty
would be granted that same night. The delegate therefore sidd:
' Spare your blood for graver occasions. At eleven we shall have
Witte's reply, and if it is not satisfactory, then to-morrow at six
you will all be informed as to how and where to meet in the streets
for further action.' And the immense crowd — I hold these details
from an eye-witness — slowly broke up and dispersed in silence, thus
recognising the new power — the Labour Delegates — ^which was bom
during the strike.
Two other important points, beside amnesty, had also to be cleared
up. During the last few months the Cossacks had proved to be the
most abominable instrument of reaction, always ready to whip, shoot,
or bayonet unarmed crowds, for the mere fun of the sport and witji
a view to subsequent pillage. Besides, there was no guarantee
whatever that at any moment the demonstrators would not be
attacked and slaughtered by the troops. The people in the streets
demanded therefore the withdrawal of the troops, and especially of
the Cossacks, the abolition of the state of siege, and the creation
of popular miUti£B which would be placed under the management of
the municipalities.
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1906 THE BEVOLUTION IN BUSSIA 879
It is known how, at Odessa first, and then all over Russia, th^
jubilant crowds began to be attacked by bands, composed chiefly of
butcher assistants, and partly of the poorest slum-dwellers, some-
times armed, and very often under the leadership of policemen and
pohce officials in plain clothes ; how every attempt on behalf of the
Badical demonstrators to resist such attacks by means of revolver-
shots immediately provoked volleys of rifle fire from the Cossacks ;
how peaceful demonstrators were slaughtered by the soldiers, after
some isolated pistol-shot — ^maybe a police signal — ^was fired from
the crowd ; and how, finally, at Odessa an organised pillage and the
slaughter of men, women, and children in some of the poorest Jewish
suburbs took place, while the troops fired at the improvised miUtia
of students who tried to prevent the massacres, or to put an end to
them. At Moscow, the editor of the Moscow Oazette^ Gringmuth,
and part of the clergy, stimulated by a pastoral letter of Bishop Nikon,
openly preached *to put down the intellectuals by force,* and
improvised orators Ipoke from the platform in front of the Iberia
Virgin, preaching the killing of the students. The result was that the
University was besieged by crowds of the ' defenders of order,* the
students were fired at by the Cossacks, and for several nights in
succession isolated students were assailed in the dark by the Moscow
Oazette men, so that in one single night twenty-one were killed or
mortally wounded.
An inquest into the origin of these .murders is now being made
by volunteer lawyers ; but this much can already be said. If race-
hatred has played an important part at Odessa and in other southern
towns, no such cause can be alleged at Moscow, Tver (the burning
of the house of the Zemstvo), Tomsk, Nijni-Novgorod, and a great
number of towns having a purely Russian population. And yet
outbreaks having the same savage character took place in all these
towns and cities at about the same time. An organising hand is
seen in them, and there is no doubt that this is the hand of the
Monarchist party. It sent a deputation to Peterhof, headed by
Prince Scherbatoff and Count Sheremetieff, and after the deputation
had been most sympathetically received by Nicholas the Second,
they openly came forward in the Moscow Oazette and in the appeals of
the bishops Nikon and Nikander, calling upon their sympathisers to
declare an open war on the Radicals.
Of course it would be unwise to imagine that autocracy, and the
autocratic habits which made a Uttle Tsar of every police official in
his own sphere, would die out without showing resistance by all
means, including murder. The Russian revolution will certainly
have its Feuillants and its Muscadins. And this struggle will neces-
sarily be complicated in Russia by race-hatred. It has always been
the poUcy of the Russian Tsardom to stir national hatred, setting the
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880 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Dec.
Finns and the Elarelian peasants against the Swedes in Finland, the
Letts against the Germans in the Baltic provinces, the Polish peasants
(partly Ukrainian) against the Polish landlords, the Orthodox Bussians
against the Jews, the Mnsulmans against the Armenians, and so on.
Then, for the last twenty years it has been a notable feature of the
policy of Ignatieff, and later on of Plehwe, to provoke raoe-wars
with a view of checking Socialist propaganda. And the police in
Bossia have always taken advantage of all such outbreaks for pilfer-
ing and plundering. • . . Consequently, a few hints horn above
were enough — and several reactionary papers and two bishops went
so far as to openly give such hints — ^to provoke the terrible massacres
at Odessa, and the smaller outbreaks elsewhere.
Such conflicts between the representatives of a dark past and tiie
young forces representing the future will certainly continue for some
time before the mighty floods raised by the storm of the revolution
will subside. The Bevolution in England lasted from 1639 to 1655,
that of France from 1788 till 1794, and both were followed by an
unsettled period of some thirty years' duration. So we cannot
expect that the Bussian revolution should accomplish its work in a
few months only. One extremely important feature has, however, to
be noted already now. Up to the present moment, bloodshed has
comey not from the Revolutionists, but from the defenders of Absolutism.
It is estimated that more than 25,000 persons have already been
killed in Bussia since January last. But aU this mass of murders Ues
on the side of the defenders of autocracy. The victory over Absolutism
which compelled it to abdicate was obtained by a strike, unique
in the annals of history by its unanimity and the self-abnegation of
the workers ; but no blood was shed to win this first victory. The
same is true of the villages. It may be taken as certain tiiat tiie
landlord ownership of the land has already sustained a blow which
renders a return to the status quo ante in land-ownership materially
impossible. And this other victory — a very great one, in my opinion —
is being obtained again without bloodshed on behalf of tiie revolted
peasants. If blood is shed, it is shed by the troops called in for the
defence of the monopoly in land— not by those who endeavour to
get rid of it. As to the peasants, they have even pronounced them-
selves against retaliation.
Another prominent feature of the Bussian revolution is the
ascendency which Labour has taken in it. It is not Social Democrats,
or Bevolutionary Socialists, or Anarchists, who take the lead in the
present revolution. It is Labour — ^the working men. Already during
the first general strike, the St. Petersburg working men had nominated
132 delegates, who constituted a * Council of the Union of Working
Men,' and these delegates had nominated an executive of eight members.
Nobody knew their names or their addresses, but their advice was
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1905 THE REVOLUTION IN RUSSIA 881
obeyed like orders. In the streets they appeared surrounded by
fifty or sixty working men, armed, and linked together so as to allow
sj no one to approach a delegate. Now, the working men of St. Peters-
burg have apparently extended their organisation, and while their
d^egates confer with representatives of the revolutionary parties,
they nevertheless retain their complete independence. Similar organi-
sations most probably have sprung up at Moscow and elsewhere, and
at this moment the working men of St. Petersburg are systemati-
cally arming themselves in order to resist the absolutist Black Gangs.
As to the powers of the Labour organisation, they are best seen from
the fact that while the bureaucrat lawyers are still concocting
some crooked Press law, the working men have abolished preventive
censorship at St. Petersburg by publishing a short- worded resolution
vin their clandestine daily, the Izvestia of the Council of Labour Dele-
gates. * We declare,' they said, ' that if the editor of any paper con-
tinues to send his sheet to the Censor before issuing it, the paper will
be confiscated by us in the streets, and the printers will be called out
from the printing office (they will be supported by the Strike Com-
mittee). If the paper continues nevertheless to appear, the blacklegs
will be boycotted by us, and the presses will be broken.* * This is
how preliminary censorship has ceased to exist at St. Petersburg.
The old laws remain, but de facto the daily press is free.
Many years ago the general strike was advocated by the Latin
working men as a weapon which would be irresistible in 'the hands
of Labour for imposing its will. The Bussian revolution has
demonstrated that they were right. Moreover, there is not the
slightest doubt that if the general strike has been capable of forcing
the centuries-old institution of Autocracy to capitulate, it will be
capable also of imposing the will of the labourers upon Capital ; and
that the working men, with the common-sense of which they have
given such striking proofs, will find also the means of solving the
Labour problem, so as to make industry the means, not of personal
enrichment, but of satisfying the needs of the commimity. That
the Bussian revolution will not limit itself to a mere reform of
political institutions, but, like the Bevolution of 1848, will make an
attempt, at least, to solve the social problem, has always been
my opinion. Half a century of Socialist evolution in Europe cannot
remain without influence upon the coming events. And the dominant
position taken by Labour in the present crisis seems to yield support
to that prevision. How far the social change will go, and what
concrete forms it will take, I would not undertake to predict without
being on the spot, in the midst of the workers ; but steps in that
direction are sure to be made.
* I take this resolution, slightly condensing it, from the Buss of NoYember 4~the
day when the first free papers appeared openly at St. Petersburg.
Vol. LVm— No. 846 8 M
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8M THB NINSTESNTH CENTURY Dec
To B$j tiuit RtiJMia has began her great revolation is no longer
a metapW or a prophecy; it is a fact. And one is amazed to
disoover how history repeats itself: not in the events, of coarse,
bat in the psychology of the opposed forces. The governing class,
at any rate, have learned nothing. They remain incapable of
anderstanding the real significance of events which are screened from
their eyes by the artificiality of their sorroondings. Where a timely
yielding, a frank, open-minded recognition of the necessity of new
forms of life woold have spared the country torrents of blood, Hnej
make concessions at the last moment, always in a half-hearted way,
and always with the secret intention of soon retoming to the old
forms. Why have they massacred at least 25,000 men daring these
ten months, when they had to recognise in October what they refased
to recognise in December last t
Why do they continae repression and provoke new massacres,
when they %aiU have to recognise in a few months hence tmicersdl
suffrage as the basis of representative government in Russia, and
the tegislative autonomy of Poland as the best, the only possible means
for keeping the two countries, Russia and Poland, firmly linked together,
jast as they were compelled, after having set all the country on fire,
to recognise that the honest Cognition of Finland's autonomy was
the only means of maintaining her bonds with Russia ? But no, they
will not recognise what is evident to everyone as soon as he frees
himself from the fools' paradise atmosphere of the St. Fetersbuig
bureaucracy. They will stir up the bitterest civfl wars.
Happily enough, there is a more hopeful side to the Russian revo-
lution. The two forces which hitherto have played the leading part
in the revolution — namely, the working men in the towns, fraternising
with the younger * intellectuals,' and the peasants in the country —
have displayed such a wonderful unanimity of action, even where it was
not concerted beforehand, and such a reluctance from useless blood-
shed, that we may be sure of their ultimate victory. The troops have
already been deeply impressed by the unanimity, the self-sacrifice, and
the consciousness of their rights displayed by the workmen in their
strikes ; and now that the St. Petersburg workmen have begun to
approach in a spirit of straightforward propaganda those who were
enrolled in the ' Black Gangs,' that other support of autocracy will
probably soon be dissolved as well. The main danger lies now in that
the statesmen, enamoured of * order ' and instigated by timorous land-
lords, might resort to massacres for repressing the peasant rebellions,
in which case retaliation would follow to an extent and with conse-
quences which nobody could foretell.
The first year of the Russian revolution has already proved that
there is in the Russian people that unity of thought without which
no serious change in the political organisation of the coontiy would
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1906 THE REVOLUTION IN BUS8IA 883
have been possible, and that capacity for united action which is the
necessary condition of success. One may already be sure that the
present movement will be victorious. The years of disturbance will
pass, and Russia will come out of them a new nation ; a nation owning
an unfathomed wealth of natural resources, and capable of utilising
them ; ready to seek the ways for utilising them in the best interest
of all; a nation averse to bloodshed, averse to war, and ready to
march towards the higher goals of progress. One of her worst in-
heritances from a dark past, autocracy, lies already mortally wounded,
and will not revive ; and other victories will follow.
P. Kropotkin.
November 21.
3 u 2
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884 THE NINETEENTH CENTVBY Dec.
UNEMPLOYMENT AND THE 'MOLOCH
OF FREE trade:
The most preoions possetsioD of a State is the labour of the people.
COLBBBT.
The best economic condition is not that in which the greatest amonnt of
produce is obtained at the cheapest rate, the greatest number of oapitalists pick
up the greatest amount of profits ; but one in which the greatest number of
workmen can live in the greatest possible comfort and security.
Thobold Bogsbs.
If we wish to devise an effective remedy for the lack of employment
which is at present causing such widely spread and such intense
suffering in this country we most first determine the cause whence
that lack of employment arises. The following pages will show tiie
cause of unemployment, and they will show at the same time that the
problem of the unemployed is not only of a far greater magnitude
than is generally known, but they will also show that this is the
most important problem of our time — that it is a problem compared
with which problems such as the deterioration of the national physique,
the alarming decline of the birth-rate, the regulation of the liquor
traffic, and the education question are matters of minor importance.
Most people beUeve that, owing to the loudness of their clamour,
the number of the unemployed appears much greater than it is in
reaUty, and that the majority of the unemployed consists of the
physically imfit and of loafers and drunkards — ^that is to say, that
^ the unemployed ' is a generic expression for those who are unable or
unwilling to work. As this opinion is widely held, let us try to
estimate the number of the unemployed, and let us inquire into their
character.
The only official material helpful for studying the problem of the
unemployed is a Government report On Distress for WatU of Em-
ployment, and another one On Agencies and Methods for Deduig
with the Unemployed. In the former report the visible distress
among the unemployed, the outward symptoms of the disease, are
recorded ; in the latter the various ways of relieving the most acute
suffering of the unemployed by a purely symptomatic treatment are
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1906 UNEMPLOYMENT AND \FBEE ^TBADE 885
desoribed. Although neither report deals with the most important
matter to be investigated — ^namely, the causes of unemployment —
these two documents contain some valuable matter. In the report
issued by the Select Committee on Distress for Want of Employ-
ment, for instance, Mr. Eeir Hardie estimated that in winter about
1,750,000 were unemployed, and that the whole unemployed popula-
tion— ^that is, the imemployed workers and their families — ^numbered
6,000,000, wjiilst in summer about 1,000,000 workers, representing a
population of 3,500,000 people, were out of work. Mr. W. Thome,
General Secretary of the National Union of Gasworkers and General
Labourers of Great Britain and Ireland, was of opinion that 1,000,000
men were out of work. He neither said whether this figure included
women, nor did he specify the season. However, from the evidence
it would appear that he intended to give an estimate of the average
number of unemployed. A circular published by the Central Un-
employed Organisation Committee in 1893 stated that there were
then nearly 2,000,000 unemployed in this country. Let us examine
by an independent analysis whether these enormous figures are
correct, or approximately correct.
Great Britain contains 43,000,000 people, of whom about 10,000,000
are wage-earners, and only a small minority of these, less than 2,000,000,
belong to the trades unions. The trades unions contain practically
all our most skilled and our best workers, who are indispensable in
our foremost and our greatest industries. Consequently, it must be
assumed that employment among the trades unionists is far better
than it is among the host of miscellaneous workers who, owing to
lack of permanency in their work at a special trade, owing to poverty,
or owing to lack of cohesion, are unionless. In view of the fact that
the trades unions contain nearly all our best and our most skilled
workers, and that the unions habitually arrange with employers of
labour for working short time when business is bad in order to avoid
unemploymenti unemployment should be almost imknown among our
trades unionists. However, this is not the case ; and the following
table, which shows the extent of unemployment in the trades unions,
should be of great interest, because it enables us to arrive by infer-
ence at a conclusion as to the extent of unemployment among non-
unionists :
PsBCBNTAaB OF Umsmplotbd Mehbbbs OF Tbadbs Unioms Making Bstuens.
Percent
Percent,
1898
. 7-6
1899
. 2-4
1894
. 6-9
1900
• 2-9
1895
. 5-8
1901
• 8*8
1896
. 8-4
1902
. 4-4
1897
. 8-6
1908
. • 61
1898
. 80
Average 4*
1904
6 per cent.
• 6-5
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886 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Dec
From the foregoing table it appears tliat the average percentage
of the unemployed among the trades unionists was, during the last
twelve years, 46 per cent. ; whilst during the last three years it
amounted to 5*3 per cent. These figures prove that unemployment is
permanent in this country. If on the basis of the forgoing figures
we assimie that there were during the last few years 6 per cent, un-
employed among our best and most skilled workers, we must believe
that there were at least 10 per cent, unemployed among the un-
organised wage-earners. If the aristocracy of labour — ^the unionists —
furnish at present about 100,000 unemployed, which is equal to 6 per
cent, of their nimiber, the unorganised workers should furnish about
800,000 wage-earners who are out of work.
The trades unions have most stringent regulations for weeding
out loafers and drunkards. Consequently the percentages given for
unemployed union workers and non-union workers as well apply only
to the able-bodied bond-fide wage-earners, and leave the shiftless, the
dissolute, the aged, and the diseased, who furnish the largest con-
tingent of the unemployed processions, almost entirely out of account
Therefore we must conclude that on an average about 900,000 able-
bodied bona-fide workers should, during the last lew years, have
permanently been out of employment. However, the number of
those imemployed who are able to work should be even much greater
than 900,000. Of our paupers 130,000 are officially described as able-
bodied. Adding these to the honA-fide unemployed before enumerated,
it appears that at least 1,000,000 able-bodied workers, representing
a population of 3,500,000 people, should compose our permanent
standing army of able-bodied hona-fide unemployed. It should be
noted that this estimate is a very moderate one, and that it is very
considerably below the estimates given by the various authorities
who have been quoted in the foregoing.
Every one of the 1,000,000 able-bodied band-fide unemployed
ought to be able to earn at least 1/. per week. Hence about 52,000,0001.
per year are lost to the nation in wages owing to lack of employment,
and the yearly spending power of the nation may be said to be
diminisbed by that enormous amount. In reality, however, the loss
to the nation through lack of employment should be far greater, for
not only are the earnings of the nation greatly reduced by the fact that
1,000,000 potential wage-earners and producers of wealth are idle,
but the expenses of tiie nation — that is, of tiie producing part ol the
population — are vastly increased ; for the producers have to keep the
unemployed, who are only consumers, and through the general adjust-
ment of the financial burden the load occasioned by unemployment
has to be borne by all wage-earners, though it may in the first instance
be borne by the well-to-do. The 1,000,000 unemployed, who with
their families form- a population of about 3,500,000, htkYe to be fed,
dothed, and housed by the workipg part of the nation ; and if we allow
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1906 UNEMPLOYMENT AND PBEB TBADB 88?
obIj 6s. per head per week for thAt puipoB&^Hi sum whidli is far
too low— it appears tiiat the nation, besides losing some 60,000,0001.
per year in productive power, spends on the * keep * of the unem-
ployed, say, 875,0001. per week, or about 45,000,0001. per annum,
a sum which is considerably larger than that expended on the Gterman
army and navy. Part of this sum of 45,000,0001. for keeping tiie
unemployed is drawn from the savings of the workers who find them-
selves out of work, another part is derived from local taxation, another
part from charity, another part assumes the form of unpaid rent.
At all events, the loss of national productive power and the cost of
keeping these unproductive millions should occasion a permanent
yearly drain on our resources which ought to approximate to
100,000,000{., a yearly expenditure which is considerably greater
than was the annual cost of our so very expensive South African War.
It seems very unlikely that the country can stand that drain on its
resources for many more years without becoming bankrupt.
It may be objected that the foregoing views are unduly pessi-
mistic ; that unemployment is widespread, not only in Great Britain,
but in other countries as well ; and that the majority of our unem-
ployed are out of work because they are unemployable, and have
mostly been brought down by drink. Let us deal with these objec-
tions one by one.
As regards the objection that employment is bad not only in Great
Britain but in other countries as well, I would give the following
dry figures, which should prove more convincing than the most
emphatic assertion :
Percbntaob of Unemployed in 1904.
-
Janoaiy
▲prU
Jnlj
OototMf
Brilish Trades Unions .
German Trades Unions
PerOent.
6*6
1-9
PerOent.
60
21
PerOent.
61
21
PerOent.
6-8
2-2
The foregoing figures, which are taken from the English and
Qerman Oovemment statistics, show that unemployment was during
1904 more than three times greater in this country than it was in
Germany. However, as the accuracy of these statistics, as of all
statistics, may be called into question by statisticians and economists
desirous of proving the contrary, I would give the following extract
from the Frantrfurter ZeUung of tiie 11th of November, 1905 ;
In October 1904 the unfavoarable position of the coal-mining and the iron
industries affected the German labour market unf avonrably, and business in the
textile industries also was not satisfiEbctory, so that it was feared that some towns
would suffer from lack of employment. These un&vourable symptoms haTO
disappeared in the coarse of the present year. Whilst last year there were
Digitized by CjOOQIC
888 TBS NINBTBSNTH CBNTVBY Dec
180*9 applioanU for every 100 sitoaiionf yaoant, there were in 1905 only IIM
applioanU for every 100 sitnations vacant. • . • In the iron and steel indnstries the
number of men employed has daring the year increased from month to month,
and the antmnn has brought orders which assure that the demand for labour
will continue to be brisk. In the centres of the machine-making industries
business is very active, and the small-iron industry has rarely been so fully
occupied as during the present October. The building trade also is very busy.
Business in the textile trades has also increased. • • . The increase of businees,
especially in the harbours, could be seen by the strong demand for labour, and
on many days not enough men could be found for doing the work at the Port of
Hamburg.
These facts and figures are based on the most comprehensive
labour statistics relating to practicaUj the whole of Qennany, and
the fact that the leading business paper of Germanj reprinted them
assures their aocuracj.
A very good indication of the state of the Qerman labour market
is given bj the sale of stamps under the Workmen's Insurance Aot»
for every workman has to insure himself in proportion to the wages
he earns. During the autumn quarter of 1903 the sale of these
stamps brought 33,611,000 marks ; during the same period of 1904 it
brought 35,241,000 marks; and during the autumn quarter of the
present year it brought 38,013,000 marks. From these figures it
seems that employment in G^ermany is at present almost exactly
20 per cent, better than it was two years ago.
The foregoing facts and figures prove absolutely that German
labour is very fully employed, and exceedingly prosperous at the
very time when the distress among our own unemployed is almost
unparalleled. No noticeable unemployment exists at present in
Qermany.
In the United States, also, business is reported to be exceeding
good and labour to be fully employed ; but, as the conditions in the
United States and icj this counf^ greatly differ, it would perhaps not
be quite fair to insti1[ute a com|)arison. 0n the other hand, it should
be borne in mind that the natiural resources of Germany are so much
inferior to those possessed by this country, that employment ought
to be far better in Great Britain than in Germany.
Now let us examine the often-heard assertion that our unemployed
are out of work because they are lazy and drunken.
There are no doubt loafers and drunkards among our unem-
ployed, and especially among those who dress themselves up as
* genuine unemployed,' and who are more in evidence than the real
unemployed. However, drunkenness among the poor, and therefore
also among the unemployed poor, is far smaller than is generally be-
lieved. Of 2,400 cases of poverty which Mr. Charles Booth investigated
some years ago, 56 per cent, were due to lack of employment, 27 per
cent, to unfavourable circumstances, such as disease, and only 14 per
cent, were due to thriftlessness, whilst 4 per cent, were loafers. Of
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1906 UNEMPLOYMENT AND FBEE TBADB 889
1,600 cases of very great poverty examined by Mr. Booth, 68 per
cent, were due to lack of employment, 19 per cent, to questions of
circumstances, and only 13 per cent, to drink and thrifUessness. If
among the poor 55 per cent., and among the very poor 68 per cent,
were destitute owing to lack of work, whilst on an average only about
15 per cent, were impoverished owing to drunkenness and laziness,
dnuikenness and laziness can hardly be greater, but ought to be very
much smaller, than 15 per cent, among our unemplojred workmen.
Besides, the drunkenness which is found among the unemployed is
chiefly of the kind of which, as Mr. Rowntree truly remarks in his
book on the Temperance problem, * a not inconsiderable proportion
must be the effect rather than the cause of poverty.' One of the
greatest American authorities on the Temperance question, Miss
Willard, President of the World's Woman's Christian Temperance
Union, is of a similar opinion. She declared, in June 1895, in London ;
* Twenty-one years of study and observation have convinced me that
poverty is a prime cause of intemperance ' ; and that is the opinion
which is held by most people who frequently come into contact with
those whose employment is irregular, and who find themselves occa-
sionally out of work.
That poverty and lack of employment rather leads to drink th^
drink to lack of employment and poverty, may be seen from the fact
that very little drunkenness is found among those classes where
employment is assured, whilst drunkenness is greatest among those
classes where employment is most fluctuating and most uncertain.
Among the workers at the Post Office, the railways, and other public
services, drunkenness is almost unknown ; among the agricultural
population there are hardly two prosecutions in 1,000 for drunken-
ness; whilst cases of drunkenness are from four to six times,
and prosecutions also from four to six times more frequent, in
the seaports, in the mining districts, and in London, where
unemployment is very frequent, as may be seen from our criminal
statistics.
The impression that the majority of our unemployed are able and
willing workers is distinctly supported by our emigration statistics.
Every year between 200,000 and 300,000 people, who mostly belong,
or at one time belonged, to the unemployed population, leave this
country, and they seem to do exceedingly well in the United States,
in Canada and other British colonies. If they were able to find work
and to make a living in Great Britam, they would hardly leave the
country in such enormous numbers, and run the risk of being stranded
in a strange land. The fact that these hundreds of thousands leave
the count^ and find profitable employment abroad proves that a
very large proportion of the unemployed, who furnish the greatest
part of our emigrants, are not idlers and loaferSj but that they are
able and that they are anxious to work. ^
Digitized by VjOOQlC
890 THE NINETEENTH OBNTUBY Dec
The fact thaty year in and year out» aknost 5 per cent, of our tcadae
onion workers and almost 10 per cent, of the unorganised workers
are permanently out of employment, naturally has a very depresmng
effect upon the wages of the employed workers, for unemployed
wodcers who are brought face to face with starvation cannot hold out
for adequate wages, and they beat down one another in their desperate
anxiety to obtain work. Therefore we find that the general level of
our wages falls when unemployment increases, whilst our wages are
always kept at an unduly low level because of the constant presence
of an enormous number of unemployed in the midst of the workers.
From the table given in the beginning of this article it appears that
between 1900 and 1904 unemployment among the trades unionists
increased from 2*9 per cent, to 6*6 per cent., and during the same
time British general wages have retroceded, as may be seen from the
figures published by the Labour Department of our Board of Trade.
During the same period, when wages have very materially faUen in
this country, the wages paid in the United States and in Germany
have risen by leaps and bounds, as official figures show.
From the table relating to unemployment among trades unionists
which has been given at the beginning of this article it appears that
acute unemployment, even among the aristocracy of our workers, is
unfortunately not transitory, but permanent in tins country, and this
is the chief reason why, as Mr. Booth and Mr. Bowntree have abun-
dantly proved, ^ the wages paid for unskilled labour are insnfficiftnt
to provide food, shelter, and clothing adequate to maintain a family
of moderate size in a state of bare physical efficiency.' It is true that
among the aristocracy of our labour — the trades unionists — ^wages
of from 358. to 45#. per week may be met with, but such wages axe
paid only to a very small minority of our working population. A
careful investigation of wages all over York, made by Mr. Rowntree,
proved that the average earnings per working-class family amounted •
to 328. 8id, per week, this sum ^ including the total earnings of the
family who are living at home, with grown-up sons and daughters,
and including the income derived from lodgers;' The average wage
for a labourer in York was found to be from ISs. to 21^. per week,
which sum, according to Mr. Bowntree, ^is insufficient to provide
food as generous as that allowed to able-bodied paupers in the York
Workhouse.* From the searching investigations of Mr. Bowntree and
Mr. Booth it appears that the earnings of the whole of our working
men all over Oreat Britain amount on an average to from 25«. to 27«.
per week, a sum which is totally insufficient to provide for the workeis*
most elementary needs ; and it seems clear and beyond all contradic-
tion that the bulk of British wage-earners are nourished worse than
paupers. According to Hobson, 46 per cent, of the working men in
certain districts earn so little that they have to spend from one-
quarter to one-half of their earnings upon their lodgings.
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1905 UNEMPLOYMENT AND F^EE TBADE «91
Some years ago the great Free-Trader^ Professor Rogers, wrote :
It may be well the case, and there is every reason to fear it is the (
that there is oollected a population in our great towns whose condition is more
destitute^ whose homes are more squalid, whose means are more uncertain,
whose prospects are more hopoless than those of the poorest serfs of the Middle
Ages and the meanest drudges of the medieval cities.
Unf ortonately, the condition of our working population has, owing
to the increased force of unemployment, very Uttle, if at aU, improved
since these words were written ; and Sir Henry Campbell-Banner-
man did ^ great public service when, on the 6th of June, 1903, he
declared:
Thanks to the patience and accurate scientific investigations of Mr. Bowntree
and Mr. Charles Booth, we know that there is about 80 per cent, of our popu-
lation underfed, on the verge of hunger. Thirty per cent, of 41,000,000 comes
to something over 12,000,000. . . . About 30 per cent, of the population is living
in the grip of perpetual poverty.
These facts, unfortunately, cannot be denied; and it follows that
our working population, far from being prosperous and happy, is,
owing to the uncertainty and the insufficiency of employment, and
owing to consequent low wages, ill housed, insufficiently clad, and
ill nourished.
That 1^ population of which 30 per cent. Uves ^ in the grip of per-
petual poverty ' physically deteriorates, that it begets fewer and
fewer children from year to year, and that it tries to drown its misery
in drink, is only natural. The continuance of this fearful state of
affairs means national suicide. The glaring physical deteriora-
tioii of the population, which ia due to underfeeding; the terrible
decliiie of our birth-rate, which is due to the great poverty of the
working masses ; and the prevalence of dnmkenness and unthriftiness
amopg the miserable poor, are directly traceable to the insufficient,
uncertain, and ill-paid employment of our working population* That
our prosperity and our poverty afEect our birth-rate, may easily be
seen from the fact that in years of prosperity our population rapidly
increases, whilst during bad years the birth-rate falls off. Between
1821 and 1871, when Oreat Britain had almost the world's monopoly
in manufacturing, and when this country was very prosperous, the
population of Oreat Britain, exclusive of Ireland, increased by almost
100 per cent. ; whilst that of Germany, which then was a poor country,
increased by but 50 per cent. Now industrial prosperity has left
Great Britain for Germany, whereto it has been attracted by the
(German protective tariffs, and the position of the two countries has
beeQ reversed as regards the increase of their population. The
Ghim^ population increases now 50 per cent, more rapidly than does
our Olfn. Great Britain, after having had the highest birth-rate in
Europe, IB rapidly drifting towards the lowest ; i^nd this country, after
Digitized by VjOOQlC
892
THE NINETEENTH CENTURY
Dee-
having had the first rank, oooapies now only the rixth rank among
European nations with regard to the percentual yearly increase of
popalation, being now only equal to that of Spain.
How wretchedly poor, in consequence of their insufficient wages
and the instability of their employment, British wage-earners are
if compared with American and German workers is clear to all who
know the United States and Germany. In order to show beyond any
doubt that the German workmen — ^who are supposed to receive smaller
wages than English workers and to live on food quite unfit to be
touched by a respectable English artisan — ^are exceedingly prosperous^
I give the following figures : »
-
BnffUihSftTixigB BMiki D«podta OetmAn BaTlngt Buiki Depotite
1901
1902
£ £
192,869,802 477,606,850
197,110,169 516,665,750
Increase
£4,750,867 j ie88,059,400
The foregoing table shows that the deposits in the German savings
banks are almost three times larger than are those in the British
savings banks, and that the German deposits increased eight times
more rapidly during the last year for which the German figures are
available than did the British deposits. Besides their funds in tiie
savings banks, the German working men have truly enormous amoimts
invested in co-operative societies, building societies, house property, &a
During 1902 the German workers received from the State insuranoe
societies 20,762,3101. by way of compensation. These few figures prove
that, notwithstanding loud assertions to the contrary which are based
on insufficient knowledge, German workers are exceedingly weU off and
far more prosperous than are our own. Therefore physical detmora-
tion is absolutely unknown in Germany, and the population of (Germany
increases at present by almost 1,000,000 per annum, whilst our popu-
lation barely grows at the rate of 400,000 per year.
I shall now give two tables which most clearly and most forcibfy
show the effect of unemployment upon the strength, the happiness^
and the prosperity of this country ;
-
PflrotDtogeof
UiMoipIoy*
mentin
TncUf Unions
Nombtfof
Brltiah
Imignnta
Uairingefiate
perTboofluid
ofPopnlfttloD
Birth Bate par
Tbooaandof
PopnUtion
Paopen
Knmberof
OriminAl
Offendcnooo*
TiCtCdftt
Aflriaat
1900
1901
1902
1908
1904
%
2-9
8-8
4-4
5-1
6-5
168,825
171,716
205,662
259,950
271,485
151
151
161
14-9
14*6
28*2
28
28
27-9
27-6
109,448
108,188
114,408
120,677
127,996
sills
Digitized by VjOOQlC
1906 UNEMPLOYMENT AND FBEE TRADE 898
Bnoi.
Sprarni.
Wdib.
Brandt.
Bum.
Quantity re-
Quantity re-
Qoantlty re-
Quantity re-
Quantity re-
•"•
tained for
tained for
tained for
tained for
Contomption
Ck)ntamption
Oontumption
Barrels
Proof OaUont
Gallons
Proof Gallons
Proof Gallons
1899-1900
86,578,156
88,716,788
1' 97
2,885,628
4,770,748
1900-1901
85,998,246
86,708,728
li 55
2,572,081
4,829,216
1901-1902
85,889,160
88,749,281
1 m
2,810,665
4,088,414
1902-1908
85,869,719
84,765,185
1 07
2,821,070
4,116,658
1908-1904
34,788,637
84,108,111
l; 52
2,195,058
4,188,625
1904-1906
88,810,124
88,157,944
1 B8
2,168,829
8,965,108
The foregoing tables show that the increase of nnempIoTment has
caused a corresponding increase in the number of emigrants, that it
has led to a corresponding decrease in the birth-rate, and even to a
corresponding decrease in the marriage-rate. People are not only too
poor to bring up children, they are even getting too poor to marry.
The growth of unemployment has led to a corresponding increase in
the nimiber of paupers, who have increased above 1,000,000, and it
has caused the army of our able-bodied paupers to grow by almost
20 per cent. Through the growth of unemployment the number of
vagrants has risen from 9,723 in 1900 to 15,277 in 1904, or has almost
doubled ; whilst crime, through the same cause, has increased at an
alarming rate. The astonishing falling off in the consumption of
wine, beer, and spirits shows that not only are the masses being
impoverished by lack of employment, but that the moneyed classes
also are rapid!y being impoverished. As the Board of Oustoms teUs
us, not for forty years has so small a quantity of wine been oonsimied
in this country, although our population has enormously increased
during the last four decades.
The fact that the means of our moneyed classes, our national
capital, are rapidly ebbing away is borne out by numerous phenomena
and statistics which would lead too far to set forth in this article.
Whilst the burden of existence borne by rich and poor producers is
becoming more and more heavy, taxation fur supporting the unem-
ployed, for creating artificial work for them, and for supporting the
growing number of paupers is rapidly increasing the already intole-
rable load which is crushing and crippling the productive power of
this country.
The foregoing facts and figures should suffice to show that the
unemployed population numbers millions, that the lack of employ-
ment among the bona-fide able-bodied workers is ruining the country,
and that lack of employment is driving Great Britain towards
national decay and financial bankruptcy, and her population in
rapidly increasing numbers into the workhouses and prisons or out of
the country. The strongest leave our shores for countries where
employment can be found, and th's country is gradually becoming
the workhouse of the British Empire. Whilst Oreat Britain has in
Digitized by VjOOQlC
894
THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY
Dec.
five yean sent more than 1,000,000 people out of the country for lack
of work and consequent lack of food, immigration is actually greater
in G^ermany than is emigration.
The cause of the economic decay of the country, and of the physical
decay of its population consequent upon lack of employment, is not
hi to seek, and it is clearly apparent from the following figured :
Pbbsoms Emplotied in the Chief Ikdustbiss op the United Kingdom
Produeti/ve Employment
1891
1901
Agrioaltare'
Flihlug
Textile
Fabrics
Ketals,Ma6ktoa,IiDp]e.
roenta, and OoiiTeyances
2,490,926 66,642
2,262.454 61,925
1,519,861
1,462,001
1,146,886
1,476410
Non-productive Ind^istries
1891
1901
Pood, Tobttooo, Drinic,
and Lodging
Conveyance of Men, Goods,
andMenages
Oommercfal
OocnpaUona
1,118,441
1,801,070
1,194,691
1,497*629
604,148
718,466
The foregoing figures show that during a decade, when our popu-
lation has increased by 10 per cent., the number of workers employed
in some of our most important productive industries has very seriously
declined. It is true that at the same time employment in our non-
productive industries has greatly increased, but the capability of our
non-productive industries to give employment to additional hands
appe'trs to be exhausted. After all, Oreat Britain can as little make a
living out of her non-productive industries and by carting about
and retailing other people's goods as the inhabitants of an island in
the South Seas can subsist on taking in one another's washing.
Up to the 'seventies Great Britain was the workshop of the world;
and a few deca<^es a$;o, when our industrial supremacy was still un-
challenged lind seemed to be unchallengeable, Mr. Cobden prophesied :
* England is, and ever will be, the workshop of the world.* Unfor-
tunately, that prophecy has not been fulfilled. Not only luui Great
Britain ceased to be the workshop of the world, she has even ceased
to be her own workshop. Foreign (Jovemments, not satisfied with
having damaged our export business by closing their countries to our
goods, have ruined our home markets also, and the British mairafac-
turer, being hard pressed at home and abroad, has to reduce his stafL
Thus foreign countries are creating the unemployed in our midst, they
are expelling the population from this country in millions, and are
filling our workhouses and prisons with men who might have been
respectable citizens, wage-earners, and taxpayers, and who might
neter have fallen so low had there been sufficient employment.
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1905 UNEMPLOYMENT AND FREE TBADE 895
Kapoleon the First closed tlie Continent to otur wares in time of war
by his continental system ; but not a continental — a universal system
of prohibition has closed now almost the whole world against our
manufactures, and foreign nations not only have surrounded th^
countries with a high wall to shut us out, but break every day into
our open garden and devastate it with impunity, since all protection
has been withdrawn from the producer, and since politicians callously
look on whilst industry after industry is being destroyed, and whilst
million after million of our citizens have to leave our shores in order
Ho find work abroad.
"We have free imports, and theoreticaDy, but not by any means in
reality, is living cheap in this country. However, if the loaf is ever
80 cheap, the working man will be unable to buy it unless he can
sell his labour. Manufacturers produce not from philanthropy, but
in order to sell their goods ; and if they cannot do so, they cannot give
employment to their men.
Free Trade, we have been taught, benefits the consumer, and to a
limited extent that is perfectly true. Rich men who live on theb
income, who produce nothing, and who have nothing to sell, are
consumers pure and rimple, and they are only interested in buying
cheaply ; but the workers who five on their labour cannot * consume '
their meal unless they have previously * produced * some work.
The English consumers, rich and poor, give out the work, but the
work which might set Englishmen working is unfortunately given, in
many cases, to the foreign producers. By this system — which no doubt
is very scientific, which philosophically is perfect, and which theo-
retically is exceedingly beautiful — the consumers of this country set
to work millions of foreign workmen, and thus withdraw work from
this country and impoverish it in the same way in which certain
absentee landlords impoverish Ireland. Our action is similar to that
of a large landed proprietor in the country who orders from town every-
thing that he requires on his estate for his numerous servants and
horses, and who wonders why the village shops decay. Whilst English-
men are starving from lack of work, the work which they might do is
given by the British consumer to foreign workmen in the name of
poUtical economy. If I buy a French motor-car for 5001., I give work
to French labour; and out of this 500L, between 3001. and 4001., if
not more, will be distributed to French workers in the shape of wages.
If an import tariff would shut out the French motor-car, 3001.
or 4001. would go to Enghsh working men, who are told that Free
Trade is a blessing for them because it benefits the consumer.
The decay of our agriculture has, during the last thirty years,
caused a loss of national capital which Mr. Palgrave estimates at the
appalling amount of 1,700,000,0001, a sum which is twice larger than
our entire National Debt. When, through Free Trade, agriculttite
became unproductive, agricultural workers were discharged by the
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896 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Dec
handred thonaand, exactly as now indostiial workers are being dis-
charged. The complaints of the unemployed agricultural labourers
and of the farmers were met with the explanation that other
nations could produce wheat, meat, &o,, cheaper than we could,
whilst we could produce more cheaply manufactured goods; tiiat
Great Britain was meant to be the workshop of the world, and that
it would be good business if the foreigner should send us cheap food
in exchange for our manufactured articles. Now the fordgner has
taken to supply us not only with cheap food, but with cheap dothes
and cheap furniture as well ; and what do we give him in exchange,
for all imports have to be paid for f Our national capital
Great Britain used to be by far the richest nation in the wodd,
and her enormous wealth, invested in new countries, rapidly increased
pari passu with the progress of those countries. A vast portion of
that invested wealth has undoubtedly been used to pay for the huge
exoess of foreign imports over exports, and this is the reason why our
national capital is shrinking, and why Great Britain, far from being
the banker of the world as she used to be, has now to borrow in PaiiSy
New York, and Berlin, when she requires money for floating a Grovem-
ment loan, or for some large industrial enterprise. In 1630, more than
250 years ago, a wise English merchant, Mr. Thomas Munn, wrote an
essay entitled Treasure by Forraign Trade or the BaUance of our
Forraign Trade is the Ride of our Treasure, and in that curious
treatise we read :
The commonwealth shall decline and grow poor by a disorder in the people
when through pride and other oanses they do consnme more forraign wares in
value than the wealth of the Kingdom can satisfy and pay by the ezportaticm of
onr own commodities which is the very quality of an unthrift who spends beyond
hii means.
Mr. Munn was only a plain business man, not a poUtical economist,
and consequently his writings are treated with contempt by the
gentiemen who argue on plain matters of business in philosophical
abstractions and in abstruse expressions ; but his prophecy has un-
fortunately come only too true. Neither an individual nor a nation
can Uve upon other people's work, as our political economists tell us
this country does. Those who tell us that this country grows rich on
^ foreign tribute ' talk nonsense. If we wish to bring back strength,
prosperity, and happiness to Great Britain, we must first of all en-
deavour to create sufficient productive employment for the nation,
and this we can easily do by shutting out all foreign goods which can
be produced by British labour, and by forcing foreign nations to
open their markets again to our manufactures by retaliating if they
shut out our trade.
We are told that it is the fault of our own manufacturers and
workmen if they cannot successfully compete with foreign industries
in this country ; but this assertion is untrue.
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1906 UNEMPLOYMENT AND FREE TBADE 897
If our workmen are willing to accept free and unlimited oompeti-
tion, they must also be prepared to accept the lowest wages paid
abroad. This our workmen, and especially our organised workmen,
refuse to do, and they are right. As the living expenses of the working
man in this country are, for climatic and other reasons, considerably
higher than in many other countries — Germany for instance — British
workers can compete on equal terms with German labour only by
accepting starvation wages, supposing inteniational competition to be
not only free but also strictly fair. However, competition between
British and foreign labour, though free, is not by any means strictiy
fair, because our workers have with their produce largely to compete
with foreign surplus produce which can be sold at a loss in this country
and yet with benefit to the foreign manufacturer.
As our political economists have not yet discovered that it is
sometimes exceedingly profitable to sell goods at a loss, especially if
they can be sold in the market of a competitor, I will give a homely
illustration of this seeming paradox which will show the logic of such
transactions. Every shopkeeper buys more stock than he can sell,
because he does not want to be out of stock when customers come to
his shop. His surplus stock he periodically sells ^at an alarming
sacrifice,' under cost price. He does so cheerfully, and he finds it
profitable to sell part of his stock at a loss because he wants to turn
over his capital. If all our West-end shopkeepers should combine to
sell all their surplus stock at one certain spot, say at Hammersmith,
they would easily be able to ruin nearly all the Hammersmith shop-
keepers, and they could establish branch shops of their own in Hammer-
smith after thus having eliminated their competitors. This is the
process which is going on continually in this country owing to un-
restricted foreign competition, and thus, through Free Trade, our
factories and workmen are being eliminated.
The manufacturers in various foreign countries— and espedaUy in
Qermany, where they are united in powerful and well-organised
combinations — agree to sell their goods only at a certain price which
leaves them an ample profit in their own country. In course of time
large surplus stocki accumulate, and these the manufacturers have
to sell, even, if necessary, at a loss, because they must turn over their
money. Very sensibly they prefer spoiling our market in selling at
a loss to spoiling their own, and all nations favour Great Britain
with dumping their surplus stock because we invite all to unload
their surplus stock in this country by our Free Trade system. For
this reason enormous quantities of foreign goods coming from all
industrial countries are sold here all the year round at a loss ; and as
the British manufacturer cannot possibly furnish the same goods
under cost price in the ordinary course of business, he has to dismiss
his men, who join the unemployed, whilst those who have money
lejoioe at the cheapness of things^ If our manufacturers complain
Vou LVm—No. 34« 8 N
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that the loteignet is tuining tiiem, and if their men are stahring
baeaiue tiiey oannot find emploTment, oor Fiee-Traden, who mostlj
belong to the * oonsomer ' class, will comfort oor mined dtizelis with
an economic conundram, and praise Free Trade because it ' benefits
the consumer ' and makes goods cheap. Besides, the Free-Trader wOl
loftily tell oor maniifi&cturers that they do not understand their
bnsineis if they are unable to compete with foreign manu^tttirers,
and he will say of their workmen that they are out of employment
because they are incompetent, lasy, and drunken. The tender
mercies of the Free-Traders are cruel
The first efifoct of Free Trade was that in the course of a few decade^
it created several millions of unemployed workers in our agricultural
districts, especially in Ireland. As then our manufacturing industries
were flourishing, part kA, the discharged agricultural workers found
occupation in the towns, whilst sevend millions of these men had t6
leave tiie country in order to find work in foreign lands where industries
are protected. At present Free Trade is destiroying our manufacturing
industries as well, and the exodus of our population from the land (rf
Free Trade to protected countries is becoming greater and greater
from year to year. The Moloch of Free Trade, after having swallowed
up our country population and our agricultural wealth, is now swallow-
ing up our town population and our indiutcial and invested wealdi
as well
Great Britain has ^e beet coal in the world, she has counties!
excellent harbours on every part of her coast, she has the best work-
men in the world, and our industrial towns are situated so near to thi
■ea that we can manufacture almost on board ship. Goal, iron,
harbour, and manufacturing towns, situated closely together, give to
this country an enormous natural advantage over aU its competitors,
the United States included. Germany, on the other hand, has inforii^
ooal, she has but one good harbour, her workmen, though diligent
and steady, are slow and rather clumsy, and, last but not leasts her
great manufacturing centres fie from 200 to 400 miles inland. Beeidei,
Germany is hampered by militarism, and her industries are handi-
ei^ped to some extent by compulsory workmen's insurance. Not-
withstanding all these great disadvantages tmder which tliey labour,
the German industries, which are carried on almost in the centre of
the Oontinent^ are exceedingly prosperous, whilst ours on the sea-
border are decaying ; we have permanently almost a million imeili-
ployed in the country, whilst Germany has hardty any unemployed ;
we have to send every year several hundred thousand peoi^e abroad,
whilst in (Germany immigration is greater than ^nigration.
Why is (Germany prosperous notwithstanding hor inferior industrial
resources, ^riien at the same time Great Britun with her inikmiparabls
resources is rapidly impoverishing! The reason is ft simpto one.
Germany carefii% protects her indiMrtrieBi whOst Great Britaiii haft
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abandoned them, and coldly looks on wliilst foreign nations destroy
one by one the sonrces of her wealth ; Germany carefully nurses and
develops her national domain, whilst we believe that it is the height
of political wisdom to neglect ours and to let it go to seed ; Germany's
economic policy is directed by experienced business men, whilst ours
is misdirected by doctrinaires who have learned by rote from a text-
book, which has been written by a professor, some unproved economic
theories which are bombastically called ^economic laws,' and they
disdain to consider economic &cts which are not mentioned in the
text-book. Unemployment, the decay of our nt^tional physique, and
many other evils which have sprung from unemployment, have but
one cause — ^Free Trade. In the words of Bismarck, the body pohtio
suffers from Bright's disease.^
Various remedies have been proposed for relieving the unem-
ployed. Some propose that the unemployed should be occupied in
this country b^ creating work for them, others recommend that the
unemployed should be shipped out of the country. Both proposals
are impracticable. The countiy is not rich enou^ to give adequate
relief to the unemployed. They cannot be settled on the land because
they would not know how to work the land ; and if they were taught
to wotk the land, they would be ruined by Free Trade, exactly as
French and German peasants would be ruined if American agricultural
produce was freely imported into those countries. We can also not
ship our unemployed out of the country, because no foreign country is
willing to receive a few millions of the unemployed with their families.
We may help several thousand of the unemployed, and we may send
several thousand to the Colonies ; but the bulk of the unemployed
will remain with us, a Uving and terrible reproach to this country
and to those who are the champions of our present economic policy,
imtil Protection revives and recreates our industries and enabled
them again to expand and to employ more workers.
What the politician has spoiled, the poUtician must again set right.
Protection must come, and will come. Meanwhile, we should do all
in our power to help those unfortunate men who, in most cases thro^h
no fault of their own, have been impoverished and who are suffering
especially during this severe winter. Let us also not forget that
those suffer most who suffer in silence. Her Majesty the Queen has
shown us the way of practical charity. Let us follow her example
and help the unemployed according to our means.
« 0. ELT2BA0HSB.
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CONTINENTAL LIGHT
ON THE 'UNEMPLOYED' PROBLEM
The fundamental principles of our English Poor-law — ^first^ that
every man, woman, and child in the land has, in the last resort, a right
to maintenance at the hands of the community, but, secondly, that
this right is subject to the condition, so far as able-bodied persons
are concerned, that they must earn that maintenance by work — are
eminently merciful and just. Those charged with the administra-
tion of the law are for the most part able, zealous, and kind*hearted ;
and the public supplies the means, if not quite ungrudgingly, at all
events unsparingly. Yet it is beyond question that, either in the law
itself or in the method of its administration, or both, there is some-
thing that is not only capable of amendment but that urgently
demands it. Our streets swarm with sturdy beggars, our highways
with vagrants devoured by vermin but otherwise able-bodied, «id
the death of some aged respectable man or woman from starvation,
voluntarily suffered as preferable to entering the workhouse, is an
incident too familiar to excite more than a passing pang of regret
and shame. Manifestly there is something at fault.
There are on the Continent countries where social conditions are
not greatly dissimilar to our own, and where perhaps the principle
is better understood than with us that at times the liberty of the
individual must give way for the good of all. During the summer of
1906 1 paid visits to certain institutions in Belgium, Holland, G^many,
and Denmark for the reception of various classes of persona who in
England would be dealt with under the Poor-law, and from them ani
from my own experience in daily contact with voluntary institutioBfr
of a similar character I venture to draw a few conclusions. These
conclusions I offer, not as a cut-and-dried solution of Poor-law diffi*
oulties, but as suggestions which seem to me not undeserving of
attention.
There should, first and principally, be a &r more minute' dassifica'
tion of various classes of paupers, and an end should be made of
the system of herding together within the walls of one institation
numbers of persons of all sorts of character. This daisifioatioD
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flhonld be caiiied out nnif onnlj throughout the oountry, and separata
buildings should be used for the different classes. Under the present
system no such classification is possible, and I therefore advocate
the transfer of all Poor-law institutions to a permanent Poor-law
Commission under the Local Oovemment Board, in the same way
as local prisons were many years ago transferred to a Prison Com-
mission under the Home Office. The transfer would no doubt run
strongly contrary to local sentiment, as it did in the case of the prisons,
and many delicate adjustments would be needed to insure equitable
settlement of rights and liabilities as between localities and the central
authority; but these would not be insuperable difficulties, and the
change would in time be as beneficial as it has proved to be in the
case of prisons.
The existing Unions should be dissolved and the country parcelled
out afresh into Poor-law districts of such size that each should con-
tain a number of workhouses sufficient to meet the needs of each
class of paupers. The County of London and other populous counties
might each constitute one district, and in the case of smaller counties
grouping would be necessary. From this it would seem to follow
that a committee of the County CouncU, or a joint committee of
the councils of the counties forming a district, would be the most
suitable body to be charged with the local administration of the law,
though I should advocate a very real and effective control by the
central authority in order to ensure uniformity of administration*
Such of the Boajrds of Guardians as have duties of local government
to perform would continue to discharge those duties, and the other
boards should be dissolved, the services of their best members being
retained by co-optation by the new committees. Salaried Poor-law
officers would be taken over by the committees, as far as possible,
so as to obtain the benefit of their experience and to limit the outlay
needful for compensation. The proposed consolidation could not
fail to result in a very large economy in establishment charges, an
economy which would increase year by year as existing interests
feU in and the benefits to arise from the new system began to make
themselves felt.
No doubt these proposals would excite strong opposition on the
part of existing authorities, and it is only natural that men should
dislike to see duties withdrawn from them which they are conscious
of having performed with zeal and not without success. As a measure
of conciliation, therefore, not less than of justice, the cost of adminis-
tering the amended law should be borne in equal shares by the
Exchequer and the counties. Rich districts would thus assist, as in
fairness they should do, in bearing the l^urdens of poorer ones, and
the inequalities of rating would be put an end to. The principle
(surely a true one) would be recognised that pauperism in all its
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many bngiclies is a question afEeoting the nation at large and not
particular localities only.
Having thus obtained the districts, the various Poor-law insti-
tutions should be distributed in such a vray that in each district
there shall be a separate building or buildings to satisfy the needs
of each of the following classes. In certain of the classes I append
by way of illustration the name of an institution on the Continent
which offers features worthy of imitation.
Olaaa A. For the aged po(» of spotleas character (Alderdomahjem,
Copenhagen).
Class B. Vox receiving and classifying cases. Small buildings for'
the temporary reception of all classes of paupers pending
their classification.
Class 0. For the old and feeble, not qualified for Class A (Almendelig,
Copenhagen).
Clais IX For able-bodied unemployed, willing to work (St. Johnner
Stiftelse, Copenhagen).
Class E. For able-bodied loafers, vagrants, thieves, and the whole
fraternity of those whose sole desire it is to live in idleness
and comfort at the cost of others (Merxplas, Belgium).
Class F. For be. gars, drunkards, and other feeble persons of bad
character, unfit for hard work (Veenhuizen, Holland).
Class G. Infirmaries for the sick. I am acquainted with no Con-
tinental model that can approach our own Poor-law
infirmaries.
It win be seen that, apart from temporary repeiving-houses and
infirmaries, I advocate five classes of institutions for every district,
and that for three out of the five Denmark flemishes an illustration.
The aged poor of spotless character (Class A in the above classi-
fication) do not, strictiy speaking, come within the Poor-law at all
in Denmark. They are State pensioners, and their position is no
more dishonourable, and involves no more lo&is of civfl rights, than
in the case of one who receives a Service pension in this country.
Some of the pensioners live in their homes, others in special public
institutions. The Alderdomshjem, the place where the aged pen-
sioners of Copenhagen are housed, is a delightful haven for these old
people after the storms of life. Some 500 dwell there, the married
couples in separate quarters of their own, and the single in conmion,
the men having separate smoking-rooms and the women sitting-
rooms. The inmates are entirely their own masters, and go in and
out at pleasure. The food is plentiful and appetising, and it is even
prepared in a separate establishment, in order to save the old folks
from the annoyance of odours of cooking. They are waited upon by
paupers of an inferior class, and a theatre, brass bands, choral societies,
and^magic lant^iis cheer their Hves. In brief their positicm is an
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1905 FOBEIGN TBEATlfENT OF UNEMPLOYED 908
honourable and bappy one, in strong oontrast with that of our aged
r^q>ectabl9 poor at hopi^, qpnfined in the workhouse with the dregs
and refqse o| society, or having doled Qut a scanty allowance in-
sufficient tp support a decent existence and q^rrying with it the taint
of pauperism and the loss of independence aQd the rights of a citizen*
Common justice and humanity demand the provision of old-age
pensipns ^l this country in some form or other, immediately and
urgently. It mi^st, however, be made perfectly dear that such
pension^ are only for such as have desery^ well of the State. Mere
age and inability to work lure insufficient to give any title to honour*
able support, t^nd the idea of a life of idleness, drunkenness, and
imp^vidence crowned by an old agf^ ipent in happy ease at the public
co^t is preposterous and destructive of the idea of social responsibility.
To be frank, I do not think that any such system can be administered
in England by a popularly elected body. The temptation to seek
the f^vom of the electorate by promising pensions to fit and unfit
aUke is one which it would be inad^^^ble to put in the way of candi-
dates for election.
The old-age pensioners in Depp^rk are the aristocracy of the
poor. For the old age of those who mi^s entering the circle-— those
that have once been convicted of Cirime), or ^hose poverty is due to
drunkenness, vice, idleness, or improvidence — ^provision is made in
Denmark by another class of institution (Class C in my classification),
represented ipi Copenhagen by the ^huendelig. This place is neither
workhouse, almshouse, prison nor reformatory, but rather an * hospital *
in the old sense of the word, where the aged who have not passed
through life without stain may spen^ tbqir 1^ days in comparative
comfort. Amongst them are certc^n of the better class of able-bodied
failures, who come here hoping to get a fresh start by industry. All
the iiunates are expected to work according to their powers, and they
receive moderate pay, partly {id. a wee)c) in cash and the remainder
being placed towards the cost of maintenance, yrhic^ works out at
Is. per head per week, including the sick ^d infirm. To those who
are unable to work the 3d. a week is paid ai^ {^ gift. Il^o^t of the inmates
remain in the institution for th^ rest of Hieit liye^. They lose the
franchise, and are subject to certain restraints on their liberty, such
as going out at certain times only. Married coupleq ar^ permitted
to live together.
The institution known as the St. Joh^mer Stiftel^^ ^hich I have
chosen to illustrate Class D, qorreapquds more nearly to our idea of
a workhouse than the other instit^itions. \t hsfi from 300 to 600
inmates, according to the season — men, women, and children. It has
a special department, separate4 frqm \he others, for youthful offenders
and children ill treated by their parents. This class of workhouse
is regarded as a temporary provision only, the average stay being
three months, although the older jimi^tes reppiain for an indefinite
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time, until they either die or are promoted to the Ahnendelig. The
able-bodied imnates are paid, and are graded in three classes, which
are kept separate both at work and in the living-rooms and dormi*
tories. The first two classes receive privileges not given to the tiiird,
and the pay increases according to the class. Each man begins
in the third class and must work his way up. As soon as he has
saved a sum equivalent to 7s. 9d. he must leave and endeavour to find
work outside. If within six weeks he has not saved this amount, or
fails to get into the second class, he is sent to the Ladegaard or penal
workhouse, whence he must work his way up again. The most
remarkable contrast to the English system is the fact that every man
works at his own trade ; that at which he is most capable of producing
value. The community reaps the benefit of the system of putting
a man to the work for which he is most fit, and paying him for it
according to results, instead of the English plan of keeping men at a
dead level of unremimerative and heart-breaking labour. Most of the
building, repairs and other structural work is done by the inmates,
and practically all the household work of the institution. This, and
the 83rBtem of employing men at remunerative work, largely account for
the low cost at which the place is worked. The wages range from
id. to Hd. a day, and the value of the work in excess of the wfl^;e8 is
applied in relief of the rates. The men are allowed a few hours'
absence at any time to go in search of work, precautions being taken
against this liberty being used as a cloak for loafing and drinking.
Turning from Denmark to Belgium, the celebrated colony of
Merxplas, near Antwerp, may well serve as a model for houses classed
E in my proposed classification, although it is an example that
requires to be followed with caution. It has many faults, chief
amongst which are its enormous size and its defective classification
and separation of inmates. With all its faults it has the merit of
clearing the streets and roads of beggars and tramps, and of carrying
into practice the principle of making them work for their living.
Not only in Belgium, but in other northern European countides,
a tramp or a beggar is a rarity. The secret is that the law is enforced
and public opinion supports the police in enforcing it. Without
this the excellent system of Merxplas and similar institutions
would be in vain. As long as public sympathy and alms are given
to the individual tramp and beggar, so long will vagrancy and beggary
exist and flourish, for in a free country the action of the police cannot
go very far in advance of general public opinion and sentiment. The
most powerful agent which could be employed to settie the question
of vagrancy would be a statute making it a punishable offence, not
to receive, but to give akns in money or kind to any able-bodied
person soliciting or inviting gifts in any street or highway.
To return to Merxplas, it contains about 6,000 colonists, ranging
from the blinds infirm, and incurable (who ought not to be placed in
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such companionship at all) to criminals goilty of the vileat offences.
The worst of the criminals are segregated in cells, but most of the
inmates are allowed to mix freely, both at work and in the dormitories.
The beggars, tramps, and petty thieves number close upon 3,000, and
next come the blind and incurable — 1,167 — ^the number of other indi-
vidual classes being small. It is for the marvellous skill in organisation
shown by M. Stroobant, the director, that Merxplas is chiefly remark-
able, not as an institution for effecting the reclamation of the inmates.
The evil communications of so great a number of worthless and
immoral men cannot fail to be most prejudicial to inmates in whom
better instincts are not yet entirely dead. As an organisation, however,
the place is perfect. By the work of its inmates it has been turned
from a wilderness of sand into a place of fruitful and flourishing
woodland; churches, schools, barracks, workshops have been built,
and the colony grows and manufactures practically all that it consumes.
The men are paid, the maximum being 3<2. a day, and they are allowed
to sp^d a portion in luxuries, or what they consider such, at the
canteen, the balance being banked. The place is not walled and
escapes are frequent, but those who escape invariably fall into the
hands of the police again for begging and thieving. The total cost per
man works out at 3«. id. a week. The cost for maintenance of a
similar class in England is 16«. per week for each man, including
interest on capital outlay. The secret of the low expenditure is the
principle of making the inmates build their own buildings and grow
their own food, and seeing that each man works for his food before
he gets it. The excess of the cost over earnings is defrayed by the
State, the Commune, and the municipality in equal shares.
Yeenhuizen, the model for Class F, is a colony for beggars and
drunkards, and is situated not far from Meppel in the north of Holland.
It contains about 3,000 inmates, all of them of the class of ' unem-
ployables,' weak in body and will, and unfitted by their vices, inherited
or acquired, to take a place as wage-earners. In England they would
be infesting the streets and roads, a terror and an eyesore, their frequent
short interludes of prison and workhouse being useless for protec-
tion of the public or reformation of the individual. At Yeenhuizen
we foimd them working as hard as their feebleness would allow,
acquiring strength of body and mind, habits of industry, and a know-
ledge of some useful trade. They are engaged in gardening, forestry,
and agriculture, as well as in various manual trades, receiving a small
wage. One could not fail to be struck with the &ct that in these
Continental institutions the inmates are producers of wealth as well
as consumers. Not only do they earn a large share of their own
maintenance, thus reducing the cost to a fraction of the expense of
Poor-law administration in England, but by reclaiming waste land
they are creating new wealth which may very possibly (though on
this point I cannot pretend to speak with authority) cover the whole
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OQtt of their liying and repay the capital expenditure for Ia^d and
building. Veenhoixen is divided into eighteen separate homesteads,
each under the charge of a practical farmer. This is a great advance
on the Uerzplas system of one large establishment with enormoiBB
dormitories and dining-room^
I saw several other institntions during my viut to the Oontinenty
suchas Frederiksoord in Holland, where families from towns are placed
out on small holdings of their own, and Liihlerheim and Schaferhof in
Qermany, refuges for drunkards and ex-criminals. All of them have
characteristics from which much might be learned, and more particu-
larly a characteristic common to them all, the possibility of a large
reduction in the cost of administiation by the adoption of remunerative
labour and giving the inmate an interest in working well. At the
same time, most or all of them have defects which should be avoided,
as for instance their great size, rendering proper supervision and
individual influence impossible. Urgently required also are small
voluntary homes, similar to our Church Ajmy Labour Homes,«wheie
inmates could be received af^r leaving the laige public institutions,
and where they could remain under good personal influence until
they can find work outside.
The question of outdoor relief belongs to another branch of Poor-law
administration, and in this respect Continental methods, except perhaps
in Denmark, are either wanting altogether or inferior to ours. In
Denmark the relieving o£Gk^rs have a very wide discretion, enabling
them to give relief in the form in which it is most likely to be of service
to the recipient. Outdoor relief is r^arded not as a gift, but as a
loan to be repaid if and whenever possible, and consequently its
receipt is not visited with loss of civil rights, except that it debars
the recipient from an old-age pension unless he can show that the
relief was made necessary by misfortune and not by his own idleness
or misconduct. In any case outdoor relief is considered as a purely
temporary provision, and a person in continuous need of relief would
be req\iired to enter one of the public institutions.
To s\un up very shortly, my suggestions are these :
(1) The proper classification of paupers, and the aUotment of
existing buildings in every district for each class.
(2) The employment of paupers at remunerative work, at their
own trades if any, and particularly at farm and market-garde^ opeia^
tions, land reclamation, and afforestation.
(3) The payment of wages to paupers on an increa^i^ scale,
so as to give them an inducement to improve their position.
(4) The rigid enforcement of existing laws, and if thought needful
the enactment of mor^ stringent laws, for the abscjute repression
of vagrancy and beggary.
To go into each of these proposals in detail would make this article
far too long, and I must content myself with ofiering a f^w general
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remarks by way of conclusion. On the question of classification
t must add that to each of the institutions in (!!lasses D, E^ F, there
should be attached, wherever possible, considerable areas of land,
cultivated or wast^. Hard labour in the open air is the best form
of occupation for many of the cases which would come within these
classes. The spectacle of fruitful fields and woods, where within
a ^ew ye^r^ was nothing but barren sandhills and heaths, to be seen
at severt^l of the Continental institutions, is a very striking one. In
England also there might be made an addition to the national wealth
of ii^calculi^ble amoimt, and it could be effected by the labour of
men who now add nothing to it, but are, on the contrary, a perpetual
drain on the resources of the conmiunity.
The outlay upon wages for the paupers would be fully justified
by the increased efficiency which would be certain to result from
giving men an interest in working well and to the utmost of their
power. The wages should be small, ranging perhaps from Id. to Sd.
a day. The object is not to provide national workshops for all comers,
but places of refuge and help to reinstate the failures, and the
pay must therefore be of an amount entirely insufficient to attract
the industrious workman from outside.
One virtue, if no other, attaches to these suggestions. They
could be carried into effect without delay and without the imposition
of any fresh charge upon the overburdened taxpayer and ratepayer.
The buildings are already in existence and an ample staff. All that
would be required is the redistribution of inmates and officers. In
a comparatively short time the cost of administration would be very
materially reduced by selecting the better class of inmates to fill the
smaller offices as existing officers retire, and by the increased earning
power of inmates. If these proposals should be thought to be too
far-reaching for immediate adoption as a whole, that part dealing
with vagrancy and beggary might well be carried into effect without
delay. Only those whose duties bring them*into closeTcontact with
the very poor know to what an extent these twin evils are eating
into the lower strata of our social life and how they complicate social
questions. To take only the familiar subject of * the unemployed,*
if the loafers and wastrels who have been wilfully unemployed so
long that they have become unemployable could once be sifted from
the industrious who would work if they had the chance, the area of
this terrible question would be greatly narrowed, and those who
have to deal with it could do so without the haunting dread that they
are pouring water into a sieve and attacking a problem which is in
fact insoluble. If there were a series of institutions such as Merxplas,
but on a smaller scale, and could the police arrest every worthless
vagabond and mendicant with the certainty that the magistrate
would order his committal to one of these institutions for a term not
of weeks or months but of years, it would not be long before our
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ooontry was free from the shame and danger of the existence of thii
large class of parasites.
What I haye ventured to suggest is capable of improvement <mi
the part of those who possess specialised knowledge, but I tiiink it is
on right lines. If a reform on these lines conld be carried into effect
the probable result would be to add to the happiness of the deserving
poor, to render more easy and effectual the task of reclaiming the
idle and worthless, and to promote the welfare of the kingdom at
large.
WiLSOir Cakule.
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IMPERIAL ORGANISATION AND
CANADIAN OPINION
Thb inqmiy which forms the subject of this paper was undertaken
in the following drcumstances. For between two and three years an
informal oommittee of persons agreed in desicing the better organisa-
tion of the British Empire, but otherwise representing all schools of
political and economic thought, has been considering in London
what means are practicable for attaining that end without any violent
change in our constitutional methods, without contentious legislation,
and without proposing anything obviously or probably unacceptable
to the self-governing Colonies. That committee started without any
collective opinion beyond what is necessarily involved in the accept-
ance of these conditions, and even these were never formulated.
Gradually the comparison of many men's thoughts in the light of a
wide range of information and experience, carried on in the freedom
of private confidence, produced a positive convergence in certain
directions. The committee did me the honour of putting in my hands
the task of stating the results from time to time and making them
public Last April a paper embodying our provisional conclusions in
my own language was read by me at a meeting of the Boyal Colonial
Inistitute, and favourably received at the time by sevend specially
qualified persons. The gentlemen who have thus worked together
indude distingmshed representatives of Canada and New Zealand,
beddes men who have officially and unofficially seen a great deal of
the aftairs of every part of the Empire ; and, with the aid of Mr. Pitt
Kennedy, our able and zealous honorary secretary, we had the use of
many valuable opinions from almost every British possession of con-
siderable importance. It was felt, however, that we could satisfy
ourselves better by personal inquiry, and, with the assent and in many
cases the cordial express approved of my fellow-workers, I went to
Canada in Septemb^ with Mr. Pitt Kennedy. Mr. GeofErey Drage,
who had already seen something of both Canada and AustraUa, and
has long made a special study of the commercial and industrial pro-
gress of the Empire, kindly consented to accompany us and to put his
knowledge and competence at the disposal of oux cause. It was his
909
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Booond visit to Canada and my third, and in other respects we did not
come to the country as strangers. We therefore had not to spend
any of our time in acquiring the mere rudiments of political and other
information about the Dominion. Although no one r^prets more
than myself that our stay could not be longer, I venture to affirm
that we made the most of a clear month. Mr. Kennedy and myself
journeyed in that space of time from Quebec to British Columbia and
back to Montreal, having ascertained beforehand, so far as possible,
who were the persons we ought to meet and speak with at every place
where we stopped. There is an inevitable elemei^t of chance in all
such arrangements, but on the whole, thanks to the efficient aid of
our Canadian friends and correspondents, we carried out our inten-
tions quite as nearly as we expected. Mr. Drage was. with us from
Montreal to Calgary, whence he diverged to Edmonton, a place of
which little more is yet known in England than was known of Winni-
peg twenty years ago, but of which a great deal will be heard within
the next ten years. He rejoined us at Ottawa, and finally supple-
mented our first work at Quebec, which had been cut shwt by a
delayed passage outward. We were unable to visit the eastern
Maritime Provinces, but we found them represented at Ottawa. It is
needless to say to anyone who knows Canada that everywhere we found
overflowing welcome and hospitality for ourselves, and I have speddly
to thank my brethren of the legal profession for many pleasant meetings
which, so far as concerned myself, would have been ample reward for
the expedition. But we foimd also, for the purpose in hand, complete
willingness to discuss the relations of Canada with Great Britain on
terms of equal freedom. This frank exchange of ideas led more thaii
once from apparent difference at the outset to the discovery of reld
agreement on the most important matters. Not the least interesting
and profitable conversations were with French-speaking Cancans.
There is, I believe, some kind of tradition in England, whether well or
ill founded in its origin I know not, that the French of Qiiebec and
Montreal is archaic or provincial. Anyone who is on the spot aha
conversant with the French of Paris can satisfy himself in a short
time, and both Mr. Drage and myself can bear witness, that among
educated persons it is not so now. Country folk talk, no doubt, vti
dialect, as they still do to a great extent in France itself ; and it
would be strange if the descendants of Normans might not speak
Norman among themselves in the Province of Quebec as well as in
the Channel Islands. It is a little surprising and disappointing to an
Englishman at all capable of appreciating the French languagje and
literature to see bow much the English-speaking people of Montreal
neglect their exceptionally good opportunities of learning Frenclu
Once only did I find myself in a really bilingual company, not at
Montreal, but at Ottawa. This topic, however, is beyond Idle presenV
inquiry \ save that people of two laqguaged Who ar^ free to ezohAA^
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1906 iMP^niALtSM Ant) CANlDtAif OPimOlt «li
ideafi in both can speak with more confidence and less fear of mUt-
nndersttoding than if they had only one in common. Shall I confess
that the talk sometimes diverged from the higher politics to French
books and even French plays ? Official persons, of course, never do
such thitigs when they meet officially ; but we were not at all official,
•tod titiere was enough serious conversation to teach us a good mAny
thijQgs Wb Wanted to know.
Canadian loyalty was among the elementsury things we had no need
to talk about with either English or French-Canadians. If I were k
Canadian I think I should prefer to hear no more of it. Surely it is
a rather ambiguous compliment, as between citizens of the Empire,
to assttt^ a man effusively that one does not suspect him of treason-
able or seditious intentions. Lawful men, tmder a Constitution that
guarantees them, in Bentham's phrase, the right to censure freely,
may be expected to obey punctually in aU matters of known dvil
and political duty, and they commonly do so. If, on the other hand,
loyalty means wiUingness to do more than is in the bond, if it implies
personal affection or active devotion to a common ideal, then it ii
something much better than obedience to law, but not a thing to be
demanded as of right, or presumed upon in any particular case without
examination. This the Empire has had from Canada, and may have
again ; the surest way to spoil our chance is to set up a claim to it.
In private life it is not usual for intimate friends to be always talking
about what they would do for each other. English patriotism is
habitually reticent, even to excess, and the same feeling of fine reticence
is possible to Canadians, as Mr. Sanford Evans, one of the best repre*
sentatives of their younger manhood, has most justly pointed out.^
My own belief is that some of our mouthing over Canadian loyalty is
dangerously near a kind of cant which might well offend self-respecting
Canadians and obscure our own perception of the facts. There is
nothing alarming or even unpleasant in the facts themselves. All
Canadians, with insignificant exceptions, are attached to their existing
Constitution and to the British flag, but their attachment is not of
one people or province alone, and is entitied to its shades of mOod
and differences of motive. Quebec has a French civilisation which,
on the scale of American history, is ancient compared to that of
Ontario and the central provinces. British Columbia has, on the other
hand, a quite distinct and more recent origin ; she is as maritime as
the older Atlantic provinces, and even more English. The fathers of
her young men grew up without calling themselves Canadian or having
* Th6 Oarhodian Contingents and Canadian Imperialism^ Toronto, 1901, p. 317.
Ibh book has reoeivdd at home nothing like the attention it deaerres, p&rtly fot
wank of an Engligh pabliBher, partly beoauseof the diffideaoe or inadvertence whereby
the title-page fails to disolose the real nature of the contents* The cover aU bat actively
conceals it, and the best chapter of the text dissembles under the heading oi
* Poitscriptum,'
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912 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Dec
any part in Canada. Thus the ideals of Qaebec may be or become
BritiBh in the sense of intimate relations, thiongh the Dominion, with
Greater Britain ; English they are not, nor can we expect them to
become so ; while British Columbian customs and sentiment — aided^
perhaps, by a singular resemblance of climate — are more Engtish tiian
those of Ontario, and far more English than anything in Manitoba.
The Canadian North-West, again, is British North American certainly,
but American, not European, and not the least like a copy of Eng^d
<or Scotland. A perfectly homogeneous Canadian opinion or senti-
ment, as distinguished from a reasoned poUcy based on enlightened
oonsideration of interest, is not to be found, even if we leave out the
Province of Quebec as exceptional (a pretty unpractical omission to
begin with) and look to the English-speaking provinces alone.
It would be rather surprising, therefore, if Canada had any definite
publio opinion on the problem of imperial organisation. But there ii
another sufficient reason for its absence, the same which accoimts for
the indifference of the general public at home to this and all matters
of policy not having any obvious bearing on a Qeneral Election. There
has be^, as yet, no serious and continuous handling of the subject
by those who form and lead pubUc opinion. We think, however,
that the individual opinions and comments we have collected from
almost every part of the Dominion are enough to afford some due to
what Canadian public opinion may be in the near future. Mean*
while there is a widely diffused feeling, among English-spealdng
Canadians at any rate, that something should be done, and that it is
England's business to find out what it ought to be and to take the
first step. Many of them are under the impression that our people at
home ignore them, and are ready to treat their interests as diplomatic
.currency to be bartered for material or moral advantages elsewhere
which do no good to Canada. It is not my business to discuss how
far this impression may be justifiable or natural, but to bear witness
that it exists. Here we are beginning to forget the Colonial Office
policy of the first half of the nineteenth century (it was not the policy
of one party more than another), which was to lead or even gentiy
press the self-governing Colonies on the path to separation. It is
not forgotten in the Colonies, and is still doing harm ; there is room
yet for more visible and concrete assurance that it is finally renounced.
Any measure conveying such assurance, even if otherwise it has but
Uttie positive result, will be a good deed for the Empire and a credit
to the British Qovemment that undertakes it.
Coming to the substance of our communication, I will repeat for
the reader's convenience the summary statement, made in a letter
sent to the Times in August, of the proposals on which Canadian
opinions were invited, and which had been more fully laid before tiie
Boyal Colonial Institute and published in Eng^d. It was suggested
that there should be established :
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1905 IMPEBIALISM AND CANADIAN OPINION 918
(1) An advisory councU, including representatives of all parts of
the Empire, and presided over, preferably, by the Prime Minister of
this coimtry, to be formed on the basis of the existing Colonial
conferences.
(2) A permanent secretarial office attached to the President of the
Imperial Council to acquire and systematise information material to
the common concerns of the Empire for the use of the Cabinet and the
Council, and, so far as might be expedient, for pubhcation. [We
have since found it most convenient to describe this as an Imperial
InteUigence Department.]
(3) A permanent Imperial Commission whose members could repre-
sent all such branches of knowledge and research, outside those
matters pertaining exclusively to any department, as would be pro-
fitable in Imperial affairs ; they would normally be put in action by
the Prime Minister appointing special committees to deal with parti-
cular questions on the request of the Imperial Council.
The first of these proposals may be described as the greatest
possible resultant, in the mature opinion of the persons for whom I
speak, of the various plans which have been put forward at various
times for giving some kind of visible unity to the British Empire.
Advocates of a formal constitution, of whom there are still a few in
Canada, naturally think it inadequate. But the general tendency
of Canadian answers on this point is, to my mind, such as to make
it fit to be considered whether formaUty could not be reduced to an
even smaller amount without sacrificing the substantial attainment
of the end; that end, it cannot be too often repeated, being not
compulsory jurisdiction by majority votes, or indeed any counting
of votes at all, but full and free consultation. I will return to the
. reasons presently.
The suggestion of an Intelligence Department for the political,
civil, and commercial business of the Empire met with an acceptance
beyond our expectation. Various opinions were given as to the best
way of connecting it with the responsible Governments of Great
Britain and of the Colonies ; it seemed to be pretty generally thought
that the existence of such a department might and should lead to
greater things, although there was a minority who rather deprecated
such a result ; but there was practical unanimity on the point that
the Intelligence Department would in itself, and apart from any
further development, supply a real want in the working institutions
of the British Empire. Moreover, it was generally allowed that it
would be useful to make the secretary of the new department the
permanent secretary or clerk of the Colonial Conference, which at
present is a mere discontinuous apparition, devoid of the means at
the disposal of the most ordinary commercial company for keeping
its dooumentB and affairs in order in the intervals between meetings.
Whatever doubts may be legitimate on other plans, or on the minor
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914 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Dea
details of this, I ventoie to say that, so far as relates to Oanada, the
Goyemment at home might now start an Imperial Intelligence Depart-
ment with the certainty not only of acquiescence but of active approvaL
The constitution of a standing Commission, with standing or
occasional expert oommittees, in aid of the Intelligenoe Department
was hardly discussed at all. I should imagine that most Canadians
would rej^trd this as a piece of administrative machineiy to be left
to the discretion of the Home Gtovemment* There would be no
reason, of course, why all the members of such a Commission should
be habitually resident in the United Kingdom, and it would seem
highly desirable that, whenever formed, it should include prominent
and well-informed citizens of the self-governing Colonies and indeed
all parts of the Empire. As the functions of its members and com-
mittees would be purely to inform and report, and it would not be of
the nature of a council, no question of political representation or
balancing political sections would arise under this head. I incline to
think that no question of payment for services, except those of the
secretary and a small permanent staff, would arise until the Cabinet
had decided, on reports and information received through the secretaiy,
to put some practical work — say the consolidation of patent laws
throughout the Empire — definitely in hand. Eminent men are
found willing enough to serve on Royal Commissions without payment
and with less prospect of useful results to the public. But idl this is
perhaps best left to stand over as detail to be worked out h^eafter.
So may the question whether the colonial Grovemments might not
with advantage establish corresponding departments of their own,
making adequate provision for full and confidential communicatimi
with the British Department and with one another. This is a question^
moreover, which they will settle for themselves.
In any case it should be remembered, both here and in the Colonies,
that the establishment of an Imperial Intelligence Department in
some form is not to be regarded as a matter of providing for merely
local convenience, and still less of satisfying any merely sentimental
desires. Many practical statesmen and men of affairs, working from
a mainly British point of view, have formed a decided opinion-*
expressed most forcibly, perhaps, by my learned friend Mr. Haldane
— that the business of the Empire, as it is to-day, cannot be propedy
done with the means of the existing departments, or by any device of
merely departmental committees. There is no more difficulty about
making such an Intelligence Department as we want than there was
about making the Committee of Imperial Defence; and there is
every reason to expect that it would produce as good results for the
common interest of the Empire in civil and commercial matters as have
been produced by that Committee for naval and military purposes*
Let us now turn back to that part of the problem which, be the
prospects of an imxmediate solution greater ox lessj must have the
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1906 IMPERIALISM AND CANADIAN OPINION 916
greatest attraction for a stadent of politics — ^naxaely, the constitution
of some body which shall be a deliberative council for the Empire in
substance if not in name. It will be best to dispose of the negative
results first. Our discussions in London had ruled out at an early
stage all proposals which would invest a Council of the Empire with
any kind of compulsory authority to fix contributions for imperial
purposes ; not only because it would be a grave constitutional innova-
tion at home, but because there is no prospect of obtaining the consent
of the self-governing Colonies to the creation of any such authority.
That conclusion has been amply confirmed by all I could hear from
one end of Canada to the other. But for a mere handful of enthu-
siasts who are still wedded to the old projects of imperial federation,
but are not an effective power in Canadian poUtics, English no less
than French Canadians would meet any plan of that kind with the
most determined opposition. They wUl not hear of Canada being
bound to any action for which the Ministers of the Dominion cannot
be called to account before their own Parliament in the regular
course of constitutional procedure. Under the system of popular and
responsible government there is no room for irresponsible authority,
short of the ultimate sovereign power, nor for divided responsibility.
To the same effect Mr. Deakin lately said, speaking at Melbourne and
adopting ^ with the warmest sympathy ' the proposals framed by me
in the name of the informal committee already mentioned : ^ We take
it for granted that no contribution can be made or duty imposed that
is not voted by the several local Parliaments.' ^ This appears to me
not only quite a sound positioli, but the only position that a Canadian,
Australian, orNewZealander bred in the traditions of our constitution
can be expected to take. At all events any scheme inconsistent with
the maintenance of it in every self-governing State of the Empire
must be dismissed as impracticable in our time. I do not m3rself see
why any such scheme should ever be needed, or why purely voluntary
co-operation, if guided by fuU information and enlightened by frequent
confidential discussion, should not suffice for as long a time as the
British Empire lasts.
A further point arises in connection with this. If there is to
be an Imperial Council, it seems clear that it can be nothing else
than the existing Colonial Conference (for it has a recognised ti^ough
intermittent existence) made continuous and reinforced. Is it ad*
missible that its members, as regards the self-governing Colonies,
should be any other than responsible Ministers of their respective
Governments, or, at any rate, persons directly representing and
authorised by those Governments i This is a somewhat delicate
question on which different opinions have been expressed by com-
petent Canadians. Again, is it necessary that all the self-governing
* Presidential address to the Imperial Federation League of Victoria, delivered at
Itelbonxne, Jvnt 14, IWi.
8o2
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916 TSE NINBTBENTH CBKTVBY Dec
Oolonies shonld be represented in exactly the same manner, or should
thk be left for each GoTemment to settle for itself f Since there is
no question of voting power or of observing a strict proportion, it
would seem on principle that some latitude might reasonably be
allowed, provided always that the Premier of each Colony, or at any
rate some member of its Cabinet, were its normal representatiye
when he could be present, and had an authorised deputy (whether the
High CommiBsioner or some other) for any such interim business as
could not be conveniently dealt with by letter or cable. But it may
well be that attempts to define these matters are premature. We
have in the Conference of Premiers an existing body capable of much
good work, even as it is, when once made continuous and furnished
with appropriate organs ; the Conference itself may be the best judge
and adviser as to the further developments that will be convenient.
Any desired reinforcement, usual or special, can be effected without
legislation or even an Order in Council. There is a certain apprehen-
sion in more than one quarter in Canada that the constitution of any-
thing more formal than the Conference of Premiers might somehow
tend, however carefully the semblance of executive authority were
excluded, to hamper the autonomy and weaken the responsibility of
the Dominion Oovemment. I do not m3rself share this apprehension,^
but it is there. Moreover, it must be remembered that the French
Canadians might easily work themselves, or be worked, into a state of
alarm by any movement capable of being represented as the beginning
of encroachment on their peculiar franchises. At home we know that
no British Government would entertain any such design, or could do
so with impunity. We know, too, that the last thing any sane English-
man thinks of is dragging or inveigling Canadians, whether of English
or of French descent, into any risk of which they have not been fully
informed or to which they have not freely consented. But we cannot
expect every voter in the Province of Quebec to understand this by
the light of nature. A few lapses from tact, however casual, a few
indiscreet speeches, however unauthorised, can do much harm among
people whose attitude towards their English-speaking neighbours and
the Home Government is tinged with pardonable though mistaken
suspicion. I am far from saying or thinking that this mood
is permanent, but Canadian statesmanship has still to reckon
with it.
It is possible that the effectual working of the proposed Intelligence
Department in connection with the Colonial Conferences would
ruquire some modification of the existing quasi-diplomatic etiquette
as to communications between the Home and the Colonial Govern-
ments. This is not a matter which can be discussed in public witii'
* At home I hftve met with the opposite objection, that a merely consaltatiTe
Oounoil would not have weight tnough to be taken teiioosljr. Sooh, at ail •vonis,^ ii
not the oolonial view. .1
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1906 JMPEBJALJSM AND CANADIAN OPINION m
advantage, but it is plain that any such technical difficulties cannot
stand in the way of a large and deliberate measure of policy.
Finally, it is useless for us to sit still in London and await proposals
from the Colonies, if 'only because there are no means in existence
by which the several Gtevemments could frame any definite and
unanimous request. Our Cabinet at home is the only body which,
being at the centre of imperial affairs and commanding all the material
information, is capable of taking the first step. Many signs point to
the conclusion that the time is ripe and the risks of further delay are
great. It is submitted that a safe and practicable course would be
for the British Cabinet to notify the Colonial Grovemments forthwith
of its intention to establish an Intelligence Department and make
the secretary of that department the permanent clerk of the Colonial
Coi^erences. This would provide for present and urgent needs, and
give the Conference, when it meets, a task worthy of the united
statesmanship of the Empire. By the mere fact of taking up that
task in conjunction with the Home €rovemment, the Premiers of our
self -governing States would lay the foundations of a liying unity far
more effectual and far less liable to accidents or reverses than any
more ambitious constitution.
I hope soon to supplement this paper by some opinions from
eminent and representative Canadians, which they have kindly
promised to send me for publication.
Frederick Polloot.
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THE SUN
AND THE RECENT TOTAL ECLIPSE
When the Total Eclipse of the Sun oocuned on the 30th of August
last, why did astronomers brave the storms and cold of Labrador,
and the summer heat of Egypt, Tunis, Algeria, and Spain, carrying
with them valuable and massive instruments to be erected with
much labour, camping out oftentimes in great discomfort, risldng
health, and spending money, time, and strength, in order, for two
or three minutes only, to obtain a view of the outer part of the
Sun, while the Moon concealed its dazriing central globe % Why
so much effort and anxiety to make use of the few brief moments
of totality? Why are plans even now being formulated for the
observation of future Total Eclipses ?
All this anxiety is a confession of ignorance. It is because
so little is known about the Sun that so much effort is made to use
the special opportunity for the acquisition of further knowledge which
a Total Eclipse affords. Such ignorance is not, however, discredit-
able to Solar students. It is due to the difficulty of the study. And
the appreciation, or confession, of it is really the first step needed-
it is the essential process — by which alone any advance in such know-
ledge can be attained. The first thing to be learnt about the Sun
at present is how little we know.
Such study of the Sun as has been possible in the last f orfy years,
and especially during the short intervals of recent Total Eclipses, has,
however, at last begun to show us what we really need to learn with
regard to it. We are now beginning to discover something, because
we see some of the main directions in which our ignorance lies. We
may consequently, it is to be hoped, utilise that very ignorance, like
a dark glass between the eye and the Sun, in order to help our in-
vestigation of what we might not otherwise see at aU.
If we ask, Where is the Sun ? or What is the Sun ? — a furly satis-
factory answer can be given to the first of these two questions. But
the second can, as yet, hardly be answered at all ; although every
successive Total EoUpse gives some small help towards the answer;
and enables us, more or less, to test the truth or the falsehood of
the^many speculations and hypotheses as to the Sun's oonstitatiim
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1905 THE BECENT SOLAB ECLIPSE 919
whioli observationfl, acoumtilated day by day ever since the invention
of the telescope, have evolved.
Yaiions methods, agreeing well with one another in their results,
give for the distance of the Sun from the Earth about ninety-three
millions of miles. Such a distance means not only that the Sun
is our nearest star, but that it is at least 250,000 times nearer
than any other star ; while millions of other stars are many millions
of times as far away as the Sun. Ninety-three millions of miles is
indeed an excessively minute distance in comparison with the scale
of the Universe.
The Sun is, therefore, in one sense very near to us. Yet its distance
is 80 great, in comparison with the power of our instruments, as to
reduce our knowledge of its nature and constitution almost to a
niinimnni. The Suu is, in fact, so far away that we are still intensely
ignorant with regard to it, while the brilliance of its light is such as
to be the greatest hindrance to our study of it, obscuring our view
of what we long, but for the most part try in vain, to decipher or
explain.
So far as we can judge, almost all Solar phenomena are probably
remarkably interdependent. The chemistry of the Sun, its magnetism,
its spots, its eruptions, its heat, its light, are all related to one another.
Consequently any narration or discussion of what has been seen, or
may be observed, during a Total Solar Eclipse requires some refer-
ence to the nature and constitution of the Sun in general.
Let me, therefore, state that such a very limited knowledge of
the Sun as we possess at present is due mainly to the telescope and
to the spectroscope, but much more to the latter than to the former
of these two instruments, while in connection with both of them
photography has afforded very great help. Our study of the Sun may,
however, be further divided between observations made day by day
and those which can only be secured during a Total Solar Eclipse ;
both classes of observations being, nevertheless, as I have just
stated, mutually interdependent.
In its more elementary and daily observation the Sun is seen as a
huge globe of about 866,000 miles in diameter, having for its apparent
boundary an intensely heated and brilliant surface, which astronomers
term the Photosphere. This limits what is ordinarily visible either
with, or without, a telescope. What is thus seen is, however, no solid
surface. Under favourable conditions, with a powerful telescope, or
if a photograph be taken, with a very brief exposure, so that the
intensity of the light does not blot out details, it is perceived that
the bright surface is mottled all over. It is not at all uniformly
bright. It seems to be formed by a layer of individual cloud-like
formations of vast size, so close together as to look like a continuous
surface under a low magnifying power. But whether we observe
this Photosphere telescopically, or spectroscopically ; with or without
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920 THB NINBTEENTH CENTUB7 Deei
the aid of photogiapky ; day by day; or at the special momeofa
when the advanoing body of the Moon leaves the minutest sickle, at
crescent, of light uncovered, at the beginning, or ending, of the totality
of an Eclipse ; the result is the same. We can find out very fittk
indeed as to what these cloud-formations are ; whether their matter
is in the form of solid metallic particles, or is of a more liquid or
viscous nature ; whether, as they float, they bear some resemblance,
although on a far vaster scale, to the little clouds of our own atmo-
sphere, in spite of their intense heat and light ; or whether they may
be merely the summits, if such a term may be used, of great uprising
currents of matter from beneath. All is doubt, vagueness, mystery,
and hypothesis in regard to them.
The spectroscope, however, tells us somewhat when their light is
spread out into a lengthened band of colour by being passed through
its slit and prisms, or when the same result is produced (as it often
may bo more effectually) by the use of what is termed a grating, Le.
a series of very fine lines ruled upon a suitable reflecting surface.
Then it is found that the light of the photospheric clouds is of
that kind which gives what is termed a continuous spectrum, Le.
an unbroken band of colour running from red to violet, as distinguished
from a spectrum broken up into separate lines, or minute portions,
with spaces between them.
A broken-up spectrum is one which only gaseous substances
give. It may, therefore, be concluded, since the photospheric clouds
do not give this kind of spectrum, that the matter in them, or by
far the greater part of it, consists rather of incandescent solid or liquid
particles, than of gaseous constituents ; or, at any rate, is not under
such gaseous conditions as we meet with on the EcuiJi. Some high
authorities would have these particles to be chiefly metallic. Some
urge strong reasons for supposing that they are a form of carbon,
or of some other substance very refractory to heat. The arguments
for or against any such speculations are, however, too complicated
and uncertain for discussion here ; as are ako those which have to do
with what, perchance, may be the constitution of the region in which
these clouds may float ; the heights or depths to which they may
rise or fall ; their sizes ; or whether cloud is at aU a correct appellation
for them, if they be but the summits of emanations coming up
radially from the Sun's interior.
Of that interior our ignorance is necessarily far greater stilL We
may venture to say that there must be in it intense and immense
currents, deeply stirring it, and incessantly conveying supplies of
heated matter upwards, and of cooler matter downwards. But how
little does this really explain ! Who can dogmatise as to the way
in which such currents may work in the midst of the conflict, that
must be ever raging around them, between such intensities of heat
and pressure as lie entirely beyond the range of any of our laboratory
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1905 THE RECENT BOLAB ECLIPSE 981
experimentSy and may therefore, in their mutual action, most prob*
ably be free from any law that we can determine ?
We shall presently see more particularly how all this is related
to the special observations that are made during a Total Eclipse,
Meanwhile, let us further notice that the only way in which we ever
have an opportunity of looking down below the general surface of
the photosphere at all, and then probably only to a very slight depth,
is when' we observe some of the great dark spots which are periodi-
cally seen in it, and are occasionally, as in two instances last October,
clearly visible to the naked eye. Yet the very mention of such spots
reminds us that so little is known with regard to them, that quite
recently a discussion has arisen among astronomical . authorities,
whether they are as a rule elevations, or depressions ; an attempt
also being made to reconcile both these ideas by supposing that the
spots are caused by matter elevated from beneath till it rises above
the Photosphere, but that their darker or deeper parts fail to reach
the general level of the surface around them. At the same time masses
of fiery vapour are ejected through them, which may hover over them
for a while and presently fall in again, or even, through the extreme
velocity of their projection, rush forth into outer space never to
return.
Within the spots the spectroscope certainly indicates the presence
of masses of seething vapours, which are ever rising, falling, and
rotating. With regard to them it constantly records many details
of a most complicated character which are excessively difficult to
explain. I will, therefore, refrain from any discussion of the effects
of temperature and pressure in the spots upon the broadening, or
darkening, of their spectrum-lines ; nor will I attempt to discriminate
between what are termed arc-lines, and spark-lines, and enhanced lines.
Let me rather notice that the vast spot-eruptions (if they may
so be termed) have a special relation to observations made during
Total Eclipses, because of their necessary connection with certain
regions of the Sun which lie in succession above the Photosphere ;
of which regions the nearest to it is termed by most astronomers
the Reversing Layer.
It is generally considered that a layer of vapours at a lower
temperature, and probably about 500 miles in height, must lie
immediately upon the Photosphere, for the following reason: viz.
that the coloured spectrum, or band of light, which is formed when
sunlight is passed through the slit and prism (or prisms) of a spectro-
scope, is found to be crossed, perpendicularly to its length, by a multi-
tude of fine dark lines. This is exactly the effect which would be
produced if the light of the glowing incandescent Photosphere, on
its way to us, should pass through such a layer of cooler vapours.
This result can be tested in the laboratory. We can there determine
irhat lines are produced by a passage through the vapours of various
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922 TEE NINETEENTH CENTUB7 Dec
aeleoted subBtances. CSonseqnently, if we identify these same lines in
the spectrum of the Solar light, we conclude that those same yapouzs
must be in the Sun, superposed in such a way upon the Photosphere
that the photospherio light effects a passage through them. But
that very light, by its brightness, unfortunately, renders this
Reversing Layer invisible, except, as I shall presently show, for
about one, or perhaps at the most about a couple of seconds, at the
moment when the totality of an Edipse takes place.
Above this layer there follows another of a beautiful rosy tint,
probably four or five thousand miles in depth, termed from its colour
the Chromosphere, in which hjrdrogen greatly abounds; while tiie
vapours of heUum, calcium, and various other substances can also
be spectroscopically observed in it day by day. Its surface is uneven.
It is like a sea of fire with jets of flame uprising all about it, while
ever and anon, and especially in certain regions, eruptions of most
enormous volume and velocity occur in it. Gaseous masses of the
same beautiful colour, largely composed of hydrogen, having a brilliant
illumination very likely in part of electrical origin, rush forth, often
in a somewhat spiral stream, with an apparent velocity that at times
exceeds 300 miles, and has been seen even to approach 700 miles,
per second; while these torn and twisted forms may be traced to two,
or three, hundred thousand miles in height. They are oaUed the
Solar Prominences.
One more most interesting appendage of the Sun still remains
to be mentioned, of far greater volume, but of almost inconceivably
light density. It is the Solar Corona. It extends outwards to a
vast distance in every direction above the Chromosphere, of which it
seems to be quite independent in its constitution. The Photosphere,
and the Reversing Layer, and the Chromosphere piust doubtless, at
any rate in some moderate degree, run into one another, and be
somewhat intermingled where they meet each other. Nevertheless,
the Corona seems to be in a remarkable degree devoid of connection
with the Chromosphere, except for its invasion by such great pro-
minences as I have just described.
No portion of the Sun is more fascinating in its beauty, or more
tantalifidng in its mystery, than the Corona. Astronomers have often
tried to see it, and still more to find some means^by which to photo-
graph its form and features day by day. The spectroscope enables
this to be done with very fair success in the case of the Chromo-
sphere, but every effort to distinguish the Corona from the glare of
daylight around the Sun, even in the clearest sky, has hitherto
failed.
When, however, at the time of a Total Ecfipse of the Sun, the
dark body of the Moon has just covered up the last thin thread, (a
crescent, of the Photosphere, there suddenly bursts forth a view of
the Corona in all its glory. Although faint traces of it may be detected
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1906 THE BEOENT SOLAB ECLIPSE 928
immediately before complete totality by the practised observer, the
appearance is practically instantaneous. It is a sight of exceptional
and startling impressiveness and charm. It is moreover combined,
as I shall endeavour to explain further on, with a most important
view of the Reversing Layer, abo seen at no other time. For these
reasons it is indeed well that it should be felt that no efforts, no skill,
no expense, no toilsome journeys devoted to the observation of a
Total Solar Eclipse can be excessive.
Far too brief, however, in their duration are such opportunities.
A Total Eclipse of the Sun can only occur when the Moon, being in
the phase termed new, passes directly between it and the Earth.
But the Moon's orbit is so tilted to that of the Earth around the Sun,
that much more often than not the Moon, when new, is so far elevated
above, or depressed below, the plane of the Earth's orbit, that it fails
to hide the view of the Sun from any part whatever of the Earth.
Moreover, the shadow which the Moon casts behind itself, from which
all the Sun's light is excluded, is of course of a conical form, tapering
gradually to a point. Its length varies within certain limits at different
times, owing to the varying distance of the Moon from the Sunj But,
at any time, even under the most favourable circumstances, when it
reaches the Earth, this shadow has so nearly come to a point that
it altogether fails to envelop the Earth as a whole. If it could do sOf
it would cause a Total Eclipse to be seen from the whole hemisphere
turned towards the Sun. But, as it is, it only sweeps across the
Earth's surface in a narrow line. And it is only from that narrow
line, which, in different Total Eclipses, is sometimes reduced almost
to nothing and rarely exceeds about 140 miles in breadth (although
theoretically a maximum value of about 167 miles is attainable),
that the totahty can be observed. It may also often happen that
the line in question passes through inaccessible, or otherwise unavail-
able, regions, or to a great extent across the sea where instruments
cannot be erected. \
Last August the zone or belt of totality was about 120 miles wide.
It ran from Hudson's Bay to Arabia, crossing Labrador, Spain, Algeria,
Tunis and Egypt, to all which countries European and American
astronomical expeditions were despatched. The totality, or the
time during which the Moon, in passing between the Earth and the
Sun, entirely hid the Photosphere, was at the most about three and
three quarter minutes. This was a duration of more than average
length. A very much shorter totality would have deserved every
effort for its observation. The longest duration theoretically possible
has been calculated to be nearly eight minutes ; but anything exceed-
ing six minutes is quite unusual.
Most anxious are all astronomers to know more about the Corona.
Last August, as in every recent Total Eclipse, it was photographed
on a scaJe which, having been constantiy increased of late years.
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934 THE NINETEENTH CENTUB7 Dm
exhibits very many delicate details. Some photc^raphs are so taken
as to show the inner parts, others the outer parts, of the Corona most
distinctly. Its light is analysed by the spectroscope ; the proportion of
that light which may merely be a reflection of that from the main body
of the Son is tested by the polariscope ; drawings are made by mecois of
eye observations as accurately as possible. All that can be accom-
plished by these and other methods is thus recorded during the brief
moments of totality by observers on the small portion of our globe
from which any given Eclipse is visible. And all this is done in the
hope, somewhat vague though it may be, that what is seen or detected
in the Corona may help towards the solution of the many problems
connected with the regions lying beneath it, or with the Sun's con-
stitution in general, which up till now have persistentiy baffled the
student.
Nevertheless very little has so far been really achieved. It is
found, no doubt, that some of the coronal light (although the propor-
tion may vary from time to time) is the ordinary light of the Sun
reflected from particles which may be of the nature of excessively
fine dust; that another portion is derived from self-luminous
incandescent particles; and yet another from highly heated gas.
There are some indications that the light of its outer extensions
may resemble that of Comets' tails and perhaps be due to electrical
excitement. Its light also seems in general to be almost wholly
devoid of heat and so far to resemble a mere phosphorescent glow.
But the principal gas existing in it, up to an average height of 150,000
to 200,000 miles above the Photosphere, whose light gives tlie chief
bright line in its spectrum, is one that can be identified with no known
substance. Astronomers, therefore, as a confession of ignorance,
have agreed to call this unknown gas Coroniim.
Apart, however, from this very partial determination of the
nature of the coronal light, one very interesting conclusion has been
arrived at with regard to the Corona as a whole, even from observations
made without a telescope : viz. that there is a decided relation between
its appearance at any given time, and the greater or less activity
shown by the Sun, at or about that same time, in regard to the
formation of dark spots in its Photosphere. For some fifty years
past it has been known that the development of such spots is a
periodical phenomenon. During each successive eleven years (or
somewhat more or less) it rises to a maximum and again falls to a
minimiun.
When a Total Eclipse occurs, as did that of August 30th last,
near to a time of sunspot maximum, then the Corona is found to be
brighter in its light and more uniform in extent all round ; while from
various points, irregularly situated upon the Sun's circumference,
rays of considerable length, and of an apparently conical or triangular
form, shoot forth, which become fainter and fainter in their outer
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1905 TBB BSCENT SOLAU SGLIPSS 92S
parts. When, however, the epoch of the occurrence of an Eclipse
is near to that of a sunspot minimum, then the Corona is found to be
fainter as a whole. At the same time it exhibits a series of jets or
short rays in the neighbourhood of each of the poles of the Sun's axis,
and it is largely extended outwards above the region of the Sun*s
equator, to a distance which may be two or three times as great as
at the time of a sunspot maximum, or even much more.
It is far from unlikely that an extra development of sunspots at
any time may indicate a coincident increase of eruption and general
excitement in the Sim. But no one can yet explain why the spots wax
and wane in number and in size in their eleven years' period, still more
(although we may note and observe it as an interesting fact) are
we unable to explain any such relationship between them and the
Corona as I have mentioned. We see the * how,' but we know not
the ' why.' The short polar rays in the Corona seen at a sunspot
minimuTTi may suggest the action of a quiet outflow of some magnetic
discharge, which at a simspot maximum may be much more perturbed.
And it is certainly found that the amount of perturbation in the
Earth's magnetism, shown by suitable recording instruments, follows
with much accuracy the amount of sunspot development. But we
can say no more than this. Directly we speak of magnetic or electrical
effects in the Sun we must confess that our ignorance is even more
intense than in any other branch of Solar study. It was interesting
last August, at a time of sunspot maximum, to find once more that
the Corona was of the form that previous observations had made
probable. Far from displaying a series of short polar rays, its
longest and grandest outflowing streamers started bom near the
Sun's south pole. But why it displayed its special form none can
tell.
The telescope, however, shows many other additional details in
the Corona. They are best studied in photographs. In these its rays
often appear overlapping and interlaced. Or two (or more) such rays will
start at a considerable distance apart and then be curved over towards
One another. Sometimes two or three arch-like forms, rising above
each other, may be detected over the locaUty of an underlying chromo*
spheric prominence. In the English photographs taken last August
some beautiful specimens of these arches can be seen, as well as at
least one remarkable formation, of a somewhat circular or oval shape,
around a brighter central point. The action of an explosive force,
probably repeated in some instances from time to time, driving
matter outwards from itself, is naturally suggested by such forrns^
Occasionally a paraboUc curve may be noticed in the Corona, with
its convexity turned towards the Sun. This may be due to matter
first driven downwards from a centre of explosion at some height
above the Photosphere, and then repelled again from the surface
bel^w by iUQh a reppliive force as undoubtedly seems to be exercised
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926 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Dec
upon oertain fonns of matter by the Son, and to be especially cqeh-
oemed with the rapid elongation of the tails of Comets. All sodi
formations seen in the above-mentioned photographs of the Corona in
the recent Eclipse will be most carefully studied and compared with
those obtained by other, and especially by American, observeis.
Certain dark rifts, or rays, were also seen last August in the Corona^
as in some previous Elclipses. It is a disputed question, and one
which I think must at present be left altogether in doubt, whetli^
these are due to the interposition of some non-transparent matter,
ejected more or less in a stream, or to some other altogether unknown
cause.
It should, however, always be most carefully remembered in
every discussion of the coronal formations, or of its rifts, as well as
in aU spectroscopic or other study of the light of the Solar Prominences
or Spots, or of any other selected portion of the Sun's surface, that
what is seen must constantly be interjoeted with a due regard to tiie
ijAeriodl form of the Sun« In a Total Solar Eclipse the Corona appears
in all its beauty before the eye of an observer as if it were spread out
upon a plane surface, just as the hemisphere of the Sun turned towards
us appears like a flat circular disc. But what we really see is the
perspective effect of a mass of Corona, some portions of which are
far in front of the plane upon which it all appecus to he, and others
as far behind. Our line of sight, as we look at any given point, really
passes through various regions which are situated at very different
distances from the main body of the Sun, and at very different alti-
tudes above its surface. Except at the extreme outer edge of the
Corona the eye necessarily receives the combined effect of all the
various parts through which its gaze thus penetrates. In other
words, we have to do with a body which is in three-dimensioned space,
and not only in two, as it appears to be in its projection.
This is, of course, also the case (except, perhaps, in a few special
observations recently made by a method which I shall presently
describe) in all our daily study of the Sun with the telescope and
spectroscope. When a sunspot, or any part of the Photosphere, is
observed, it can only be seen through all the superincumbent layers
or regions lying between us and it. We look, it may be, through
millions of miles of Corona, thousands of miles of Chromosphere, and
hundreds of miles of Beversing Layer before our oght reaches the
bright surface, or darker spot, which we wish to study. And the
distance through which our line of sight passes in any of these layers
must vary, and, in spite of their great transparency, have more or
less effect upon our observations, according as we look at the central
or the outer parts of the "Sun's disc.
A Total Solar Eclipse then reveals the Corona, which is seen at no
other time. It enables us to see rose-coloured prominences at the
edge of the disc much more clearly than in daylight spectrosoopie
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1905 THE BEOENT SOLAB ECLIPSE 92T
obeervation. And it is also found that it renders some prominences,
or parts of prominences, whose light is of a whiter character, visible,
which cannot be seen day by day. Nevertheless it only enables us,
as I have just explained, to see most parts of the Corona through
immense depths of itself, in which all sorts of formations and convo-
lutions may be projected upon one another, foreshortened, distorted,
and intermingled in our view* Yet we owe very much in these various
ways to the special opportunity which the brief minutes of a Total
Eclipse afford*
But this is not all. There is one more sight visible at no
other time, but which is of the utmost importance, although of so
much briefer duration that we see it merely for a second or two, and
then it vanishes from our gaze. Just at the instant when totality
becomes complete (or again when it is about to cease) ; just as the
last fine sickle of the bright light of the Photosphere on the apparent
disc of the Sun is covered up by the advancing body of the Moon
(or again at the moment before the opposite edge of the Moon allows
the other side of the Sun to begin to show itself once more and so end
the totality) ; then, lying on the Photosphere, a strip of the Reversing
Layer appears at the very edge of the Sun's disc.
But this layer is comparatively so shallow that in about one
second after totality has begun the advancing Moon covers up its
lower and more important portion, and in littie more than another
second it is all concealed ; i.e. as soon as the edge of the Moon
reaches the region of the Chromosphere, which lies immediately
above it.
A similar brief view of a' portion of the Beversing Layer is of
course obtained for about two seconds, just before totality ceases, its
upper part^ being then first exposed. Never otherwise can it be
seen.
To Solar physicists, however, nothing is of more importance,
nothing so full of teaching as to the constitution of the Sun, as the
study of what these transient glimpses reveal. We look no doubt,
at the same time, through a certain amount of Corona and transparent
Chromosphere, the effect of which, however, can be allowed for;
but the all-important point is that, for the moment, the observer sees
a portion of the Reversing Layer, apart from the light of the Photo-
sphere* At all other times the Photosphere acts as a background,
and its dazzling light comes to us through the other superincumbent
layer, whose cooler gases, by their absorptive effect, produce, during
the passage of the photospheric light, the many dark lines of its
spectrum.
If so, let us now ask, what ought the Reversing Layer to look like
in those most brief moments when the totaUty of an Eclipse thu»
allows it to be examined, on the sun's edge, mtiiofd the Photosphere
a« a background I We should suppose, from its situatioui that it*
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d38 TBS mNSTSBNTB CBifTVIiY Dec
yapom, i^en seen by themselyes, must be hot enough to ffvt
(aoo<»rding to spectroeoopic theory) a series of bright Hnes exactly in
diooe places in the speotnim where they exercise an absorptive effect
upon tiie light of the still hotter Photosphere. This proves to be the
case. At the exact instant when the last spark of Photosphere disap-
pears, if the bright band of its spectrum, crossed by its hundreds of dadc
fines, is carefully watched, a sudden transformation occurs. Most
of these dark fines are immediately changed into bright ones, wit^
dark spaces interposed between them. No doubt this is only a some-
what rough description of what is seen, because certain preliminary
indications of what is about to happen may also be detected, especially
when what is termed a prismatic camera is used instead of a spectro-
scope with a sfit ; but in any case the change is so startfing that tiie
appearance has been termed, by general consent, the Flash Spectrum.
It was first noticed by Professor Young in 1870, and first photographed
by Mr. Shackleton in Novaya Zemfia in the Ecfipse of August 1896.
Since then, by skilful manipulation, many other photographs of it
have been obtained ; some of those which were taken with much
success last August being on a very large scale.
Such records are happily permanent, otherwise they could not
reoeiye the minute and careful study which they require. The length
and character and comparative brightness of the very numerous bright
fines in them are full of most intricate problems ; problems relating to
the distribution of chemical elements in the Reversing Layer inr^;ard
to their densities, their intermixture, the heights to which they may
attain, their exceediogly high temperatures, and the possible dis-
sociation thereby of substances unafiected by any temperatures
with which we can experiment. Not only does the technicafity of
such problems forbid their discussion here, but stiU more tiie fact
that they are as yet almost entirely unsolved. The more numerous
the observations of the Reversing Layer, the more puzzfing are its
mysteries.
The Corona, however, demands some further notice. It has been
felt by astronomers that it would help them in their endeavours to
understand its constitution, if any rotation of it as a whole aa^und
the Sun's axis could be detected during an Ecfipse. This has been
attempted by means of that appfication of the spectroscope Which
shows when a source ^of light is moving towards or from the observer.
If any such rotation should exist in the Corona, the opposite ends
of a diameter should be moving in opposite directions.. Owing,
however, to the great deficacy of such observations, those hithefto
made have failed, including, so far as we yet know, some whiftB tiie
weather and other circumstances were very favourable duiiBg the
recent Ecfipse. No reaUy satisfactory evidence of coronal roMiom
has, I befieve, yet been published, altiiough it ik hoped that it ma/
be attained before long.
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1906 THE BECENT SOLAS ECLIPSE 929
So, likewise, during the consideiable duration of the passage of
the Moon's shadow across the Earth, it has been supposed that it
might be possible to detect the progress of some change in appearance
in special parts of the Corona, due to any process of disturbance
that might be going on in them, particularly if they might be
situated above a large prominence in active eruption. Some slight
indications of this kind have indeed been seen, but it was especi-
ally hoped that they might be established by means of photographs
intended to be taken last August in Labrador, when compared with
others taken with similar instruments in North Africa. The distance
apart of the places of observation would have allowed a difference
in time of fully two and a quarter hours. It was therefore thought
that some clearly distinguishable change of appearance might occur in
that length of time. But the Sun was wholly obscured by clouds in
Labrador. As so often happens in connection with some specially
important observation, the weather was at its worst where it was
most needful that it should be fine. The journey to a most inhos-
pitable region was all in vain. The desired comparison must conse-
quently be postponed until another suitable opportunity shall again
occur, in which it may be possible to find accessible and suitable
localities for the observations situated at a long distance apart on the
Earth's surface.
Another feature of a Total Solar Eclipse is very interesting to
every observer, whether he be a professional astronomer or not. It
consists in a series of narrow bands of a somewhat wavy form, from
one, or two, to perhaps ten inches or so, in breadth, and from about
ten to twenty, or possibly thirty, inches apart, which are seen for a
few minutes before and after the actual time of totality. They
follow each other in rapid succession, moving or rippling onwards in
a direction in general perpendicular to their length, sometimes a little
faster than a man can walk, at other times almost too fast to be
distinguished. They are named Shadow Bands, and may be best
recognised on any plane whitened surface, such as that of a wall, or
upon a white cloth spread on the ground. Their cause is not yet
known. But they are now watched and recorded with much care,
in the hope that something may be learned from them as to their
origin : whether they may be due (although it seems to me decidedly
unlikely) to some difEraction of the Sun's light as it passes the edge
of the Moon ; or more probably to some interference of the ra3rs of
light caused by irregular refraction in the layers of the Earth's atmo-
sphere, connected, perhaps, with the rapid cooling due to the with-
drawal of the Solar heat. Some observers consider that they are
related to the direction of the wind at the time of observation. This^
in more than one place in the recent Eclipse, was parallel to their
length. Some think that they move in the same direction, others
that their direction is different, before and after totality. Some have
Vol, LVin- No. 846 8 P
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980 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Dec.
notioed the appearance of an additional, or secondary, set. of bands,
porsoing a separate course of its own, very near to the actual moment
of totality ; as at Constantine, in Algeria, last August. With r^ard to
any effect of wind, it should be remembered that in general a sadden
breeze, which has been termed the ' Eclipse Wind,' springs up when
the Sun is nearly obscured* The Shadow Bands are certainly a
fascinating, and at present a puzzling, phenomenon. They were
not only seen last August in many different places on shore, but also
as they ran along the decks of the Peninsular and Oriental liner,
Aroadia, and of the Orient liner, Oriona, &om both of which vessels the
totality was observed when they were off the coast of Spain. All such
observations will presently be compared and discussed. But l^iere
is no doubt that the chief interest of the Bands at present consists in
our ignorance of their cause.
I have spoken of the additional difficulty constancy met with,
both in EcUpse and in daily observations of the Sun, owing to its
being in general impossible to see anypart of the Corona in Eclipees,
or of the surface at other times, without looking through an imTnense
depth of surrounding, or superjacent, gas or other matter. Two
observers, however, M. Deslandrc« and Professor Hale, but especially
the latter, have of late years developed a special form of research,
which Professor Hale is now about to prosecute more fully, with a
splendid instrumental equipment, at the new Solar Observatory at
Mount Wilson in Galifomia, where the atmospheric conditions are ex-
ceptionally good.
By a most refined method the Sun's light is first sent through the
slit of a spectroscope, and so spread out into a lengthened spectrum.
Next, bom the spectrum so formed, a minute portion only is selected
by passing it through a second slit. Then, by a rapid movement
across its telescopic image, a photograph of the Sun is secured, which
is produced solely by that minute portion of its light which has so
passed through the second slit that it comes only from the speciaQy
selected portion of the spectrum over which that slit is placed* This
portion is chosen so that the light used is known to be due to some
particular gas or vapour in the Sun, whose light locates itself just
in that part of the spectrum. A photograph of the Sun's surface
can in this way now be obtained in full daylight, showing the
distribution over it of all such clouds or formations as may be com-
posed of that particular gas. Aggregations, for instance, often
remarkably brilliant, of hydrogen or of calcium vapour, of larger of
smaller extent, are thus revealed and depicted, both in the more
immediate neighbourhood of spots, and in a less degree over the
whole Solar disc. But Professor Hale has d<me much more than
this. He has even, by a most minute and accurate shifting of the
position of the second slit, succeeded in successively using light
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1906 THE RECENT SOLAB ECLIPSE 981
from portions of a selected gas which, the spectroscope shows to be
under different pressures, and therefore at different levels above the
Sun's surface. In that way he has obtained photographs which
represent the distribution of the gas, or vapour, in question at those
different heights. Such photographs show most remarkable changes
in the appearances presented at one altitude and another. For the
first time in Solar research, it has in this way become possible to
isolate one level bom another in its strata, and so far, although at
present only in a slight degree, to overcome the difficulty of which I
have spoken. This most remarkable and successful new process
deserves great attention. Apart from its own intrinsic importance, it
may, I think, owing to the interdependence of all Solar observations,
ultimately give us information, or suggest lines of research, or methods
of investigation, which may be of the utmost value in connection with
Total Eclipses.
I have alluded to electrical action upon the Sun, which can hardly
be wanting in the fiery tornados, the tremendous movements, the
contraction and expansion, the friction and heat, passing all descrip-
tion, which there abound. But nothing at all is certainly known
about it. We cannot, for instance, say how far any discharge of
electrons or corpuscles may be connected with the long streamers of
the Corona, or with the interesting phenomenon of the Zodiacal Light
which was discussed in this Review last March. The possibility of
such a connection should, however, be constantly rememb^ed.
In regard to this, a recent observation by Professor Simon Newcomb
certainly deserves notice. The extension of the Zodiacal Light in
the direction of the Sun's axis had not hitherto been estimated, or
observed. But he succeeded, last July, from the summit of the Brienzer
Rothhom, in tracing it to a distance of 35^ above the Sun's north pole.
This almost of necessity involves a similar extension southwards. If
so, it must deeply envelop the whole of the Sun, just as the Corona
does. Certainly the Zodiacal Light should always be carefully kept
in mind in all Eclipse observations, in case some part of it may be
detected.
Another remarkable discovery connected with the Sun has recently
been made by Mr. E. W. Maunder, F.R.A.S., of the Greenwich Obser-
vatory. Determining, from sunspot observations, the successive
intervals in which the rotation of the Solar surface brings a spot,
or more accurately the meridian passing through some selected
point in it, round again, so that this meridian shall be once
more directly opposite to the Earth ; he has found that, sometimes
twice, sometimes thrice, or even several times in succession, there is
a mamfest tendency to the recurrence, after such an interval, of a
magnetic disturbance in the Earth, which must be due to some influ-
ence ejected or sent forth from that particular part of the Sun. It is
8p2
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M though some long ray, ruBhing forth in a straight line from a limited
portion of the Solar surface, strikes the Blarth and starts a magnetic
action in it from time to time, as that special part of the Sun comes
round into the same position relatively to the Earth again. In a
Total Eclipse inmiensely long faint Thjs are occasionally seen issuing
from the Corona. I cannot, therefore, but believe that Mr. Maunder's
discovery, in addition to its great value in other respects, may
help towards the explanation of what these raj^ are, or of what
they do.
To the question of the existence of any planet or planets nearer
to the Sun than Mercury, much attention has recently been given
during Total Eclipses. Such planets, if so situated, would be illumi-
nated by very intense Solar light ; and, if only of one-half or one-
quarter of the diameter of Mercury, ought to be easily seen at such a
time by the naked eye. It is possible that such a planet might be
hidden in some Eclipses by the Sun or Moon, or its light be over-
powered by that of the Corona, if our line of sight to it should pass
very near to the Sun ; but, if so, it should be visible in other Eclipses
when in other parts of its orbit. Up to the present, however, no such
planet has been detected. In the Eclipse of the 18th of May, 1901, the
remarkably long duration of totality (six and a half minutes) was
especially favourable for such observations. The instrumental
equipment of the Lick Observatory Expedition in Sumatra was
admirable. Clouds, however, to some extent injured some of the
photographs taken. But as many as 170 stars were recorded around
the Sun, and it was concluded that no intra-Mercurial planet was
then visible, at any rate as bright as a star of the fifth magnitude,
or having a probable diameter of as much as seventy-five miles. It
may be hoped that similar photographs recently obtained by the
American observers in North Africa may include all stars seen witMn
a moderate distance from the Sun down to about the ninth magni-
tude, and that we shall soon be able finaUy to decide whether any
such planet exists or not, even if only of about thirty miles in diameter.
But any photographs will need considerable time for their examination,
and for the precise identification of the places of the many minute
images upon them with those of known stars. It may be interesting
to notice that a method has been adopted of late in these observations,
by which four large cameras are braced together in one telescopic
mounting ; so that four photographic plates, up to twenty-four inches
by thirty inches in size, can be simultaneously exposed, so as to embrace
a large extent of sky all round the Sun ; while an arrangement is also
made by which two plates are automatically used in succession for
each camera as a precaution against any accidental imperfection in
a single plate.
It seems, then, that our ignorance with regard to the general
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1906 THE BECENT SOLAB ECLIPSE 983
physical condition of the Sun is such that it is most important that
every possible effort should be made to gain whatever new informa-
tion is attainable during the brief intervals in which, from time to time,
the interposition of the Moon's dark body renders the Corona visible,
and abo enables the various other classes of Eclipse observations of
a special character to be made. But there is, I think, little doubt
that the daily study of the Sun with spectroscope and telescope, and
especially by such refined methods as that recently employed by
Professor Hale, may prove to be really still more important. Above
all, every possible effort should be made, by some fresh photographic
or instrumental development, to obtain views of the Corona and of its
structure day by day.
The greatest popular interest should undoubtedly be taken in every
Total Solar Eclipse. Those who have seen one can never forget the
sight. The effect is overpowering, and perhaps never more so than in
such a view of the vast red prominences as that of August last, when
one huge mass of them near to the east part of the Sun's equator,
many thousand miles in height, occupied about a twelfth of its whole
circumference, and was so splendidly seen by the naked eye as to
astonish all beholders. But most of the details of Eclipse observa-
tions are far too technical to be of popular interest. Nor can
astronomers expect to make any really rapid progress by means of
them. All such observations call for the greatest patience. The
advance in Solar study gained in each Eclipse is very slow.
Unfortunately for some time to come there will not be so good an
opportunity for English observers as that just past. In 1907 it would
be necessary to travel (in January) to Turkestan or Mongolia; in
1908 or 1911 to the Pacific Ocean; in 1912, when the very rare
occurrence of two Total Eclipses, only six months apart, will take place,
either to South America, or to the Spanish peninsula. But these totali-
ties will all be of short duration, and in the latter region exceedingly
so ; although the Eclipse in question may, as a consequence, afford a
specially favourable opportunity for the observation of the Reversing
Layer. The next Eclipse with at all a long totality will, I believe,
be in 1919, and be visible in Brazil and Central Africa. The last
Total Solar Eclipse seen in the British Isles was in 1724 ; the next,
it is calculated, will last for about one-third of a minute, and be seen
in 1927 in North Wales, Lancashire, and Yorkshire.
I trust, nevertheless, and fully believe, that the occurrence of
every such Eclipse will encourage the ungrudging provision, either by
the State or by private individuals, of all necessary funds, both for
costly Eclipse expeditions, and for the continuous daily observation
of the Sun. Certainly Mr. Crocker, of San Francisco, has shown a
noble example of what one individual may do. Apart from previous
liberality of the same kind, it is understood that he subsidised three
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984 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Dec.
important expeditions last August, to Labrador, Spain, and Egypt.
Would that astronomers, stimulated and cheered by help such as
this, may ere long be able to cast off some of that depressing burden
of ignorance with regard to the nearest of all the stars which they
are themselves the most willing to confess. The Sun, we must all
allow, is magnificent. May we soon be less obliged than we now are
to say of it, ' Omne ignoium pro magnifico,^
E. Lbdoer.
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NATURAL BEAUTY AS A NATIONAL
ASSET
Thi time seems to have arrived when it may be interesting to record
something of the results which have been quietly achieved, daring
tlie past eleven years, by a society founded for securing for the public
places of historic interest or natural beauty. It was founded in
1894, and grew out of the need which was felt of some body which
could hold land and buildings in perpetuity for the benefit of the
pubUc at large. Since then much has been done to develop both the
power and wUl of local authorities to acquire land and buildings ;
but these are, as a rule, in the near neighbourhood of large towns,
and are secured mainly for their important bearing on health. For
this object local authorities may be fitted. But the inauguration of the
National Trust for places of Historic Interest and Natural Beauty was
due to the beUef that there was a need in man for more than utilitarian
benefits, that he was not onhr an eating, drinking, and breathing
animal, but that he craved for, and was ennobled by, beauty around him,
and noble thought suggested to him. England is rich in natural beauty,
and full of stately and picturesque buildings, beautiful in themselves,
and recalling a great past, events and men who have made our nation
what it is. These are day by day passing into private hands, and are
being closed to the public ; some are being ruthlessly or ignorantly dis-
figured or destroyed, and it was decided to be important to save a
few for" the great body of our fellow countr3naien.
It was therefore settled that in establishing the body which should
hold them, so far as possible, it should consist of men and women
who should be firee from the tendency to sacrifice such treasures to
mercenary considerations, or to vulgarise them in accordance with
popular cries — should be, in &ct, those to whom historic memories
loom large, who love the wild bird, butterfly, and plant, who realise
the national value of hill slope lighted by sun or shadowed by cloud.
So the governing body is nominated by the great artistic, learned,
and scientific foundations of the United Kingdom. The British
Museum, National Gallery, and Royal Academy, seven of the principal
universities, the Society of Antiquaries, the Linneean, Botanic, and
Entomological Societies nominate the majority of the Council.
985
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The society is still young, and its acliievements small as yet, but
the foundation is broad, and the organisation capable of ready ex-
pansion. We hold to our creed boldly, and affirm that the purdy
useful things of the world are not all that human beings want, that
England is rich enough to give some of the blessings of beauty to hex
children, and we ask all who feel this to unite in securing such posses-
sions. To those who say, ' Bread and coal and blankets and hospitals
are real wants of everyone, but to expect beauty for people is going a
little far in your requirements ; at least let us get the necessaries first,'
we reply, ^ Those who really believe that only one thing can be
procured will rightly devote themselves to the provision of necessaries
only.' And yet they are hardly consistent. Is there one of us,
poor or rich, busy or idle, philanthropist or man of the world, who
does not devote something to a love of beauty? Whether it be
costly dress, rich furniture, stately house, brilliant flower garden, or
coloured print, pretty toy, pot of creeping jenny, we all set aside
some of our money for that which does not supply creature comfort.
It is the dawn of the spirit which craves for such possession. Hie
National Trust asks that this need, which is human, shall be met by
common possessions.
Man was placed in a world so beautiful that the variety of its
loveliness and grandeur is as wonderful as their perfection. Day by
day for us the sun rises and sets ; the child instinctively gathers the
flowers and watches the movement of beast and bird; before the
eyes of most men, through most countries and many centuries, how-
ever unconscious he may sometimes have seemed of them, the free
clouds of heaven, the rush of streams, the breaking of wave on beach,
the animate life of flower and creature, the green of grass, the blue of
sky, have surrounded him, and have been, like the air he breatiied,
part of his natural inheritance. The very unconsciousness of tiie
enjoyment has been a proof of its universality. To many it is first
realised in its loss. For the instincts of joy in the beauty, whether of
colour or form, are common to all. In some they are strong, in some
weak, in some they are developed, in some latent ; but they are part
of the very being of man. In pleading for beauty for the inhabitants
of our towns, we are asking for no aristocratic luxury or exceptional
superfluity, but for the restoration of some &int reflex of what our
modem civilisation has taken away from the ordinary inheritance to
which, as citizens of the fair earth, they were bom. For, see, we
have darkened the blue of their sky with smoke, we have raised the
walls of warehouse, &ctory, and block building so high and so dose
to their houses that they cannot see the sun rise or set, nor the com-
pany of bright clouds that gather round his uprising, happy if, through
the long summer day, a single ray of his beams reaches their rooms.
The opening gold of the crocus in spring is not for them, nor the
crimson of the autumn woods. Dress is dingy, its forms are ugly,
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1905 NATUBAL BEAUTY AS A NATIONAL ASSET 937
dirt and squalor prevail aronnd them, the noises of the street have no
melody, the sights they see are degrading. And yet there is, in each
child in the worst courts, a capacity of joy, simple human joy, were
it but in one bright colour.
I remember in 1887, when I was connected with the formation
of the first cadet corps in London (it was for Southwark boys), I
wrote a letter which was forwarded to the War Office, asking for the
cadets to wear scarlet instead of the dark green uniform of the corps
to which these companies were attached. I pointed out what a cheer
the bright colour woidd be in that dingy neighbourhood. The request
was granted, and soon afterwards a busy clergyman said to me :
* You can't think what a delight your boys' uniforms are, they are
such a pleasure to us all at my Sunday school.' And lately, when
collecting money for securing a bit of the Lake country, we received
2s. 6(2. from a factory worker in Sheffield. She said : ^ All my life I
have longed to see the lakes. I shall never see them now, but I should
like to help to keep them for others.' Again, I was once giving
evidence before a committee of the House, and there came up a
deputation of working men, representing sixty-two different trades,
hard-headed, practical men, not the least sentimental theorists. I
was quite amazed to hear the stress one after another laid on the
ugliness of the new blocks of buildings, ' dreary sameness,' * wearisome
monotony,' ' terrible dreariness ' ; one speaker after another dwelt on
these ugly characteristics. And I have found a distinct increased
money value in cottages built in London, simply from their being a
little different and pretty.
This universal joy in beauty means that certain things call up a
wonderful sense of satisfaction, of thankfulness, of life ; making
men feel better, calling them out of themselves by the power of a
strong and blessed feeling. First among all the objects which can be
secured in the way of beauty is that of open space, a bit of the earth
as it was made, capable of producing flowers and grass and trees, with
its own slopes, streams, trees, rocks on which sunlight and shadow
may fall. Our Father gave the earth to us, and yet somehow how
littie of it falls to the lot of the city child, and how changed is that
Uttle. Think how little space usually surrounds a workman's town
dwelling. Perhaps he lives in a flat, and has not a square yard of
open groimd in which his wife can sit out of doors in summer heat,
or his child turn a skipping-rope ; his rooms are small, and he has
no garden. The natural complement of the house is the garden.
The more difficult it becomes to provide the separate garden, the
more urgentiy is the public garden needed. Cities are beginning to
realise this, and our gathering together in cities should teach us such
habit of corporate action as shall secure for all in common what each
cannot provide for himself, and the public open space must in cities
replace the separate garden. But more than this is needed, space
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988 THE NINETEENTH CENTVBY Dec.
farther afield for tiiose rare but neoeesary hoIidayB which are becoming
more eesential for all daases. Give the town park, the flat cricket
field, the asphalte playground ; bat let us see tiiat we keep also onr
English commons, onr field paths, and purchase here and there sites
of natural beauty, seashore or diff, limestone valley, reach of river
bank, stretch of meadow, slope to mountain summit. To this latter
duty the National Trust has set itself. For not only does ihe working
man year by year, more and more, get to such places and care for
them increasingly, but the large multitude of professional men, of
shopkeepers and other dwellers in town, need the refreehm^it of natural
beauty after being cooped up in cities ; and they find annually more
places built over and closed to them. How many there are who
have no country seat, deer forest, or yacht, who in their wdl-eamed
holiday need rest and contact with nature ! Forest and field, mountain
and seashore are gradually passing into private hands, and being
closed to the public as holiday folk increase in number.
When Athens was defending her national life against Persia, and
the organised city of Sparta stood aloof, it was the God Pan, the
God of Nature, who came to her aid at the battie of Marathon,
Browning tells us he said :
PraiM Pan, who fought in the ranks with your most and least,
Goat-thi^ to greaved-thigh, made one cause with the free and the bold.
Is tiiis a symbol of the spirit which keeps a nation free and vigorous,
that love of and intercourse with wild nature ? Hugh Miller teDs
us that the unrestricted power of wandering over open country forms
one cause of the love of the Scotch for their native land, AngP.nHApT>g
as it does the sense that they have a share in it. Are not these
sources of inspiration and attachment greatly diminished in this gene-
ration in Great Britain ? Is it not important for national as well
as for family life that they should be as far as possible preserved ?
We of the National Trust thought so, and formed a society which
offers to all landless men an opportunity of uniting to purchase areas
for the common good of their own and similar families, with the
added satisfaction of knowing that long after they have passed away
such possessions will remain to be a blessing to succeeding generations.
We are also asking those who can dedicate land to make these great
and lasting gifts, and some have already done so. Most of us are in
no way urging that such purchases should lose their grace and spring
and spontaneity by being made compulsory, nor, by being embodied
in the nation's expenditure, press hardly on those who are struggling
for absolute subsistence. We are not asking that such areas should
be acquired by rate or tax, but that, by the voluntary combination of
many, great and permanent possessions should be acquired for the
people. They may be gifts from a rich donor who desires to make a
memorable donation to posterity, or purchased by the glad and ready
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1906 NATURAL BEAUTY AS A NATIONAL ASSET 989
contributions of hundreds who, united, may be able to preserve
for all time a thing of beauty to be a joy for ever. Such gifts may be
looked upon as the thankoSerings of a mighty people. England is
not poor, and few of our people are so poor but that, at some time of
their lives, they might not, if they would, unite in a gift to that which
is out of sight, as Sir Launfal did.
I recognise that this is hardly a main duty for anyone. I am far
from unaware of crying needs in other directions. Most of us are at
work face to face with great material want, but we think some measure
of help should be given to the provision of a distinct national need, a
gift for the time to come, a tithe of our riches, a memorial to those
we have lost, more abiding and surely as beautiful as stained-glass
window or costly tomb.
Any way, it may be interesting to record what possessions
have been thus secured. Few and small, doubtless, compared with
what we hope will one day be England's jewels, held for her and
treasured by those who care for history, art, and natural beauty,
forming a sort of first-fruits, a free-will offering by those who are
conscious of great blessings in their own lives, and of the manifold
goodness of Him Who has created this wonderful world, and has
made England rich in historic memories which are recalled by the
interesting buildings which have come down to us. These possessions
are permanent, but they are necessarily costly, and the National
Trust has not been long in existence. But it owns now nine open
spaces, seven beautiful old houses, and four memorials. These are
vested in the Council, and managed by an estates committee annually
elected by the Council. Every effort is made to render them accessible
to the public, to preserve them in uninjured beauty, and to keep the
flora and fauna. Of the small old-world houses, the Clergy House at
Alfriston, the Court House at Long Crendon, the old Post Office at
Tintagel, and the Joiners' Hall at Salisbury may be specially named.
Nothing great about them, nothing very striking, only quaint,
picturesque, out-of-the-world places. The one nestled among the
folds of the Sussex downs, the next set at the end of the quaint street
of a needle-making village of Oxfordshire, the third in a far-away
Cornish village, and the fourth in a street in Salisbury— just quietly
awakening memories of simple life long ago. The Clergy House is
a pre-Ref ormation building ; the Court House the place where manorial
courts have been held ever since the manor was assigned to Queen
Katharine, wife of Henry the Fifth — strong in timber, steep in roof,
lovely in the mellowed colour of centuries, greeting the eye with a
sense of repose, carrying the mind back to the days of our fathers,
and to that out of which England has grown.
The memorials owned by the Trust are the Falkland Memorial,
near Newbury, the Hardy monument on the Dorsetshire downs, the
old Sanctuary Cross at Sharrow, and the single stone with medallion
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940 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Dec.
of John RuBkin set on Friar's Crag, where first he learned the beauty
of that nature he was so wonderfully to describe. Warrior, naval
hero, author, it seems right that there should be a body composed of
those nominated by the great corporate bodies of Great Britain to
accept, to hold, and to cherish such visible memorials of our great
dead, ancient or modem. Then there are the pretty bridges at
Eashing, over the Wey, near Godalming, which date from the days
of King John. What a contrast they form to our modem iron lattice
bridges, and how refreshing to come upon their strong curves and low
arches on a summer aftemoon's walk in Surrey, where the trees bend
over them and the water glides beneath !
The open spaces belonging to the Trust are Barmouth Clifi, Barras
Head, Wicken Fen, Ide Hill, Toys Hill, Kymin HiD, Brandlehow.
Mariner's Hill, and Rockbeare. Barmouth was the first gift to the
Trust ; it overlooks the estuary. Barras Head was the first purchase.
It cost 5052. ; it is a headland of fourteen acres, with great black rocks
for ever washed by that wonderful Cornish sea, a space of wild head-
land set with grey boulders, and grazed over by sheep, but most
valued in that it commands the best view of the Castle of Tintagel,
connected in our minds with the l^nds of King Arthur and the great
poet who sang of him. Ide Hill, To]^ Hill, and Mariner's Hill each
form a vantage ground on a separate promontory of the Kentish
range of hiUs overlooking the Weald of Kent and across to the Ash-
down Forest range, and between its depressions to the far-away
South Downs. All these three promontories are within range of the
Londoner who takes a Saturday afternoon from gas-lighted city
office or many-storied London street. There he can rest on the
grassy or wooded slopes, and feast his eyes on the marvellous blue of
the hills before him, or watch the great sun setting in his glory, or the
moon rising behind the trees. Kymin, like all the hiUs commanding
the Wye Valley, has a beautiful view. It is so near Monmouth as
to be accessible to many. It is of special interest as having been
visited by Nelson, and containing one of the few memorials of our
navy. Wicken Fen is almost the last remnant of the primeval fen-
land of East Anglia, and is of great interest to naturalists. Rock-
beare is twenty-one acres, near Exeter, covered with heather and
trees, and a£Eording beautiful views. Brandlehow, on Lake Derwent
Water, is the largest possession of the Trust. It comprises 108 acres
on the western shore of the lake. It was bought in 1902 for 6,5001.,
contributed by more than 1,300 donors, the gifts ranging from 1^.
to 5002. These gifts came from all over the world, from Shanghai,
the Straits Settlement, the Bocky Mountains, India, the United
States, and South Africa ; from all kinds of people^ — ^the octogenarian
with aU his memories, the young boys with all their hopes, from the
factory worker and the London teacher. The estate comprises about
a mile of the lake shore ; it afifords a view of Skiddaw in one direc-
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1905 NATURAL BEAUTY AS A NATIONAL ASSET 941
tion, of Borrowdale and Castle Crag in the other. Over this land
now the feet of Englishmen may wander ; from its slope they may
behold all that wealth of beanty in mountain-side and stretch of
lake, and there, in a neighbourhood where headland, meadow, shore,
and peak are one after another being appropriated and enclosed,
there is for ever preserved for the visitor from grimy manufacturing
city, for those who escape from the * man-stifled town,' one space to
which they may turn on their yearly holiday with certainty that it
is open to them, and left in its unspoiled loveliness.
OcTAViA Hill.
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942 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Dec
CHILDREN'S HAPPY EVENINGS
A LiTTLB boy, with a tom of mind at once social and philosophic,
was asked whether he preferred the company of children or adults.
After a moment's reflection he replied, * I like children when there
is something to do, but when there is not I like grown-up people,
as they may think of something to do.' Let anyone, recollecting
this opinion, wander through the poorer parts of the metropolis on
a long autumn or winter evening, and mark the substitutes for * some-
thing to do ' which commend themselves to the active Uttle Londoner.
He may, it is true, be employed by his overworked parent, he may
carry home the washing, take the bundle of shop-work to ihe middle-
man, mind the baby, or hawk matches or newspapers about the
streets, but the majority of girls and boys have at least a considerable
portion of time to themselves when school is over, and the question
is, how and where can they dispose of it \
Certainly not in the crowded living room of the fiunily, where the
busy mother does not want them, and where they would not care to
stay if she did; the parks, pleasant enough in summer days, are
generally too far off to be attractive goals for pilgrimage at the dull
time of year, and the only remaining playgrounds are the streets and
courts. Here the children swarm, and here we may consider their
possible amusements.
In books and work and healthful play
Let my first years be past,
sings the moral poet with great good sense : the ^ books and work '
have already been provided by the powers that be, but how about
the ' healthful play ' ? Though the casual observer may think that
the children can easily provide that for themselves, experience shows
that this is exactly what they cannot do. Strange as it may seem,
the result of enquiries made some years ago went to prove that thou-
sands of children iii noi know how to play. They could fight, of course,
and get into excellent training for hooligans; they could sit under
archways, and, as a boy described in an essay on his usual evening
occupations, say to the men returning from work, ' Please, sir, do
not fall over our legs ' ; they could annoy the passers-by with language
more forcible than classic ; they could give dramatic imitations of more
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1905 CHILDBEN'8 HAPPY EVENINGS 948
or lees edifying scenes witnessed in their daily life, but of ^ play ' in
the ordinary acceptation of the word they were wofully ignorant.
The reasons were not far to seek. First, space for regular sports
was wanting ; then it was difficult for a migratory population here
to-day and gone to-morrow to hand on traditional games ; and lastly,
there were no * grown-up ' people to teach the rules, as our nurses
and elders taught us in the days of our youth. Of course, when any
appliances were required they were abnost totally lacking.
Things are brighter nowadays. Many kindly hearts in London
and elsewhere have realised the need thus brought to light, knowing
that in every garden where good seed is not sown weeds are sure to
flourish, and in none more so than in the virgin soil of a young child's
mind.
The teaching given in school hours, however excellent, cannot
occupy the whole plot ; something will be continually planted in the
leisure time — what shall it be ?
While recognising the good work done by others in the same
direction, the CJhildren's Happy Evenings Association may fairly
claim to have been the pioneer, and to be by far the largest organisa-
tion labouring in the field indicated above. A short account, therefore,
of its history and present condition may not be devoid of interest.
Some eighteen years ago a few ladies and gentlemen were struck
with the idea that the school buildings of the London School Board
(then much less continuously utilised than at present) would admirably
serve the purposes of evening play-rooms.
They approached the authorities on the subject and were allowed
to try the experiment in three schools, situated respectively in Lam-
beth, Shoreditch, and Marylebone. Volunteers were enlisted, and a
system inaugurated by which the scholars in the upper standards
who had been most regular at day school should be admitted to a
couple of hours' play, generally between six and eight o'clock, on
certain specified evenings. Dolls, paint-boxes and round games
were provided for those who preferred quieter occupations, while
the more actively disposed children were taught to play Old English
games such as ' Oranges and Lemons,' ^ We are English Soldiers,'
* Daughter Sue,' and many others. It is curious to note that some
of these games have been rescued, from threatened oblivion by such
means. Instances have been known of London children carrying
the games learnt at the evenings back into the country in their summer
holidays, and teaching them to little rustics whose parents had for-
gotten them.
The experiment, tentatively authorised, was crowned with com-
plete success, and its extension officially sanctioned by the London
School Board, which recognised the Children's Happy Evenings
Association as its agent in dealing with applications for the opening
of recreation evenings in other schools. These began to pour in,
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slowly at first but soon in large ntunbeis, as teacheis and manageis
realised the great advantages conferred on the children in vanons
wa]^, not only by the counter attraction o£Eered to the streets, by the
inducement to regular attendance in school, since the tickets w^e
rewards of such regularity, but especially by the marked improve-
ment in the manners of children brought under the influence of educated
and warm-hearted friends in play as weU as in lesson hours. Since
the London School Board has transferred its power to the County
Council, the Education Committee of the latter body has expressed
its approval of the work carried on under the auspices of its pre-
decessor, and has assured the Association that no impediment will
be placed in the way of its development.
No one wishes to introduce into England the foreign system of
constant supervision, of never letting a child act on its own initiative,
of fencing him so closely during youth against every moral and physical
danger that he is apt to buy his experience all too dearly when the
barriers are removed.
There is, however, the contrary extreme of turning the boy or giri
entirely loose, to look after him- or herself in a great city without any
idea of rational occupation or amusement, at the very moment when
the removal of the necessary restraint of school impels the young
energies to find vent somewhere, and a couple of hours of weekly
guidance in the gentle art of Play, and above all of Fair Play, can
hardly be considered excessive. It is sometimes urged that if this
part of education is so desirable as its friends assert, it ought to be
provided by the State.
Without discussing the fresh burden which such a course would
throw on the hard-pressed ratepayer, it may be said that the long
experience of the Association tends to show that however necessary
salaried work and regular routine may be, and undoubtedly are, for
the school curriculum which equips the child for the struggle of modem
life, the same fixity of rule should not apply to the hours of recreation,
and such stringency would be hard to avoid if salaried teachers were
enlisted to carry out a regular scheme of instruction in play.
It is not contended for one moment that salaried instructors
would not take interest in the children out of school hours ; experience
of their kindness to their charges would flatly contradict any such
suggestion, and many of them help of their own free-will in the evenings,
but there is no doubt that fresh helpers, coming from fresh scenes,
and bringing in fresh ideas, afford enormous pleasure both to teachers
and children, and a variety is thus introduced into the amusements
which would be next to impossible in any scheme of recreation sub-
sidised and supervised by the State. Let us, however, investigate
a little more closely the actual programme of an Evening.
Outside one of the large school buildings in Whitechapel, Bethnal
Qreen, Hoxton, or in many another district little known to the West
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End, you may find an eager crowd of children armed with the much
coveted tickets which are the Open Sesame to a children's hour at
least as cheerful as any in a richly furnished drawing-room. Be it
noted that each ticket bears the superscription ' H.R.H. the Princess
of Wales, President,' and is justly regarded by the children and their
families as a kind of personal invitation from Her Royal Highness.
Justly, for the Princess by no means confines her interest to nominal
patronage; she has again and again rendered practical help to the
work in various directions, and each Christmas valuable gifts of toys
come from Marlborough House for distribution among the branches,
so that the little waife whom we have left waiting outside the enchanted
portals may find inside costly games, gorgeous Noah's arks, or splendid
balls, erstwhile treasures of the King's grandsons.
When the chattering throng have assembled in the Central Hall,
or the largest schoolroom available, they are cordially welcomed by
the ladies and gentlemen present, and then each child is asked whether
he or she would prefer to begin the evening's amusement in a ' Noisy '
or a ' Quiet ' room. Let us follow a Uttle party of boys who have
selected the studio as their first scene of action. Here we find a pile
of outline drawings representing incidents domestic, nautical and
zoological, such as children love, drawn in broad outline on good
paper, and therefore easy to colour. Two or three artistic ladies
designed these specially for the Association, and had them repro-
duced in large numbers at their own expense. These are highly
valued — only the best artists are allowed to try their brushes upon
them, and when completed they may be taken home to adorn the
walls of their proud parents. The less advanced are supplied with
fashion plates, prints from illustrated papers, and other scraps.
* Tom,' B&js a young girl helper, ' why do you paint that lady's eyes
red ! People's eyes are not red.' Tom had probably selected the
red paint as the most brilliant and therefore the most attractive in
the box, and now asks in some perplexity what he shall substitute.
' Look at my eyes, look at Fred's,' BSkjs his instructress, and having
ascertained that the young lady's are brown and Fred's are blue,
Tom has grasped the new idea that the artist must make some attempt
to copy nature.
Finding a boy one evening busily occupied in colouring a hunting
scene, I asked what he knew of the chase. In an eager flow of language
he assured me of his profound knowledge, and triumphantly concluded,
* The foxes' tails are called brushes ; the huntsmen get as many as
they can, and the one who gets most wins a prize.'
Chess, netting, making little tops out of cotton reels and similar
occupations are appreciated by the boys. Sometimes a kind friend
will provide a drill sergeant, or a sailor teach the useful art of making
knots. Tug of war and all kinds of lively games go on in the ^ Noisy
rooms,' and perhaps the most popular amusement of all is boxing.
Vol. LVIU— No. 846 8 Q
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Any young man who will undertake to teach this art in a biandi is
a real benefactor, as nothing is found more conducive to discipline and
self-restraint, while a whole circle of boys are delighted to act as
spectators.
We must not, however, linger too long among the boys, for tiie
girls demand a share of our attention.
We shall be lucky if we find ourselves among them early in Novem-
ber, when the new supply of doUs has reached the branch, after the
annual exhibition and subsequent distribution at Bath House. The
dolls' apartment is presumably a ' Quiet room,' but the term is rather
a misnomer on such an occasion. Shouts of ' Oh, look at her ! ' 'Do
let me hold her, teacher.' ^ What a beauty ! ' assail us on aU sides.
Here is a boy doll dressed in green velvet so lovely that every girl
must be allowed to carry him in turn ; here an ' Old Woman who Uved
in a Shoe ' — as we all know, * she had so many children she didn't
know what to do,' but abundant nursery-maids are ready to relieve
her of her embarrassment this evening.
After the Coronation a lady contributed to the exhibition a ddl
dressed as a peeress, who almost realised in her own person the
gorgeous scene in Westminster Abbey. During several weeks the
rumour of her glories spread through the neighbourhood of tiie
school to which she had been allotted, and at last one little girl
pleaded earnestly for permission to carry the precious doll to her
grandmother, who lived hard by. After some demur, and on
promise of great care and speedy return, the lady in charge of ike
dolls gave consent, and the peeress, duly enveloped in paper, paid
her formal visit. She was brought back quite safely, with the ccnn-
pliments and thanks of her hostess.
Simpler dolls are, however, equally acceptable to the Assooiation,
and, so long as they dress and undress, perhaps afford more scope
for the * mother and child ' games so dear to most little girls. Need-
less to say the dramas in which the dolls take part are unending, and
from time to time give rise to a useful lesson. The doll is ill, and is
brought to the notice of the sanitary authorities. ' Why, Mrs. Smidi,
how have you been feeding this child ? Herrings — ^what do you
expect! Milk properly mixed — a clean bottle — that is what she
wants.' In some schools the little ones learn to wash and iron the
under-clothing, and when cradles and sheets are available they are
a great attraction. Passing from the dolls' nursery we find ourselves
transported into fairyland. A circle of children seated on the floor
meet our eyes, and in front of them stands a lady who has wafted
them on a magic carpet far away from London smoke and winter
fogs, into the enchanted realms of the * Arabian Nights.' Never had
story-teller a more entranced audience. We will not disturb them,
but glance at a party of older girls who are busy manufacturing little
articles from what seem at first sight somewhat unpromising materials.
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1906 CHILDBBirS HAPPY EVENINGS 947
As we watoH we see pieces of cardboaid tamed into carte or doUs^
fumitarey old match-boxes transformed into neat little olieste of
draweis, and needlebooks and other little presente made for the
mothers at home.
Old Christmas cards are always acceptable if not written on; the
children are charmed to forward them to their friends : if marked
they can be worked up as aforesaid or pasted into scrap-books. The
compiling of scrap-books is a great joy, and some of these under
talented guidance become real works of art. One of these was lately
produced in which a lady had drawn pictures and taught the children
to colour them quite beautifully, while another friend had embellished
them with appropriate verses.
In the girls' ' Noisy rooms ' the children dance, and play the old
games already mentioned and many others, often accompanied by
music. Sometimes enterprising helpers will get up a little play, for
which the rehearsals occupy many evenings, and then parents and
friends are invited to see the performance. It would be hard to say
on these occasions whether actors or audience are the better pleased.
Sometimes the former are girls alone, but where the same helpers
superintend both boys' and girls' branches, it is possible to introduce
both into the dramas. As a proof that the rising generation are not
so wholly ignorant of Walter Scott as is sometimes supposed, I may
mention a boy who, having acted the part of * St. George ' with great
spirit and to his own complete satisfaction, sent me a request to
dramatise ' The Talisman,' as he had read it, and wanted to perform
one of the leading parts ! I need hardly add that my powers were
unequal to gratifying his ambition.
The evenings generally conclude with a grand march round, and
are occasionally enlivened by a distribution of buns, oranges, sweete
or flowers, sent, or better still, brought by the President of the local
branch or by some other sympathising friend. Any such gifte cause
pleasure and excitement, but it is touching to note that a bunch of
flowers evokes far more gratiAide from these poor children than any
eatables. So dear are blossoms to the heart of the Londoner, that
it is almost cruel to send a basket of flowers by a District Messenger
boy without giving him a buttonhole for himself at the same time.
Hearing of ^ Happy Evenings ' people are apt to think that the
idea is to give entertainmente of some sort, conjurers, magic lanterns,
or concerto to the children. It is hoped that the above slight sketch
of what generally takes place (though details vary in every branch)
will make it plain that the Association contemplates nothing of the
kind. The intention is to amuse and interest the children of the poor
on exactly the lines on which intelligent parento and £riends brighten
the lives and arouse the imagination of little ones in their own families
after regular school hours are over. A strict rule of the C. H. £. A. is
8q2
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tliAt not one penny of the money sabeciibed by the pnblio la to be
expended on * Treats ' in the ordinary eense of the word.
When these are given, and they often are given at Christinas and
in summer time, they are provided by the kindness of branch Presi-
dents, by helpers personally interested in a particnlar branch, or
by the invitation of someone sympathising with the work of tiie
Association and offering to entertain a given number of children m
town or country. While such invitations are joyfully accepted by
the Committee for their charges, they are regarded in the same light
as special treats offered to the children of the rich, that is to say, as
exceptional pleasures, not as part of the ordinary routine of life.
A word may be said respecting the workers and the branch Presi-
dents, to whom reference has ahready been made.
The Association has now opened 120 branches in London, attended
by a weekly average of 18,000 children. These branches are situated
in 85 schools, some schools having two separate branches for giris
and boys respectively. Each branch has its own Hon. Sec. and
Committee of local workers, and sends a representative to the Centzal
Council, which decides matters of general policy, and elects the Central
Executive Committee and Officers. H.B.H. tiie Princess of Wales is,
as already mentioned. President of the ^hole Association, bat in an
organisation extending over so wide an area it has also been found
advisable to appoint, as far as possible, a President for every branch.
While these ladies are often unable, from frequent absence in tiie
country or other causes, to work regularly at the Evenings, th^
occasional visits and continued interest are found very helpful and
stimulating to the constant workers.
The Central Committee are anxious to secure additional branch
Presidents, as local Committees not yet provided with a head are i^t
to consider themselves n^lected. The workers number over fifteen
hundred ladies and gentiemen, and the lists show an iofinite variety
of age and occupation. Girls are here young enough to ^iter keenly
into the sports of the children and just old enough to control them,
elder ladies who love children and Uke to renew their own youth in
promoting their happiness, many friends living in the suburbs who
find leisure to come in by District Railway or Tube, young lawyers
and others engaged during the day at the Com Exchange, in publish-
ing houses and in similar occupations — ^all these and many men
in different spheres of hie find that the sacrifice of one or two evenii^
hours is well repaid by the affection and gratitude of the children.
We hear a great deal in the present day of the best way of educat-
ing children, of the individual attention which each child needs on 1^
one hand, and of * what children like ' (as if they all liked the same
thing) on the other. Not long ago, when a Congress was assemUed
to discuss the rearing of babies, one section was composed entirely
of mothers, with the exception of one aunt, who justified her daim
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1906 CHILDBEirS HAPPY EVENINGS 949
to inolusion by the fact that she had twenty-eight nephews and nieces,
and had never f oigotten one of their birthdays.
That aunt would be an ideal worker at the Happy Evenings :
her experience of the divers characters of her nephews and nieces
and her evident enjoyment of their pleasure would qualify her to
manage a couple of hundred children with a very limited amount of
assistance. If, however, there are parents, uncles, or aunts who
wish to widen their knowledge of child life, or others who, having no
young relatives of their own to study, would still like to know some-
thing of the genus child, they woidd find in the Happy Evenings
a wide field for observation. Without attempting an exhaustive
description of the characteristics of the London child, for after all
London children differ like others, it may be safely asserted that the
majority are wonderfully wideawake, and grasp with rapidity any
idea presented to them. They are exceedingly responsive to kind-
ness, and very quick to acquire good manners when they once under-
stand that these are agreeable to those whom they wish to please.
A lady told some children at one of the Evenings an anecdote of a
party of Swiss children who were instructed to say * the little word
meroi ' at the conclusion of a treat ; on her departure she was amused
to find a group of little girls waiting to speed her with cries of * Meroi,
meroi 1 * So promptly had the lesson been laid to heart.
Another exhibited a collection of natural history objects ; on her
first visit she was almost mobbed by the children, who were then
comparatively newcomers ; a year later she took her treasures again,
and found that attendance at the Evenings had effected a complete
transformation : the interest in the exhibition was just as great,
but the little spectators had become perfectly well-behaved, they
kept their places in front of her, and she was able to hand her objects
from one to another without fear of injury or shadow of dispute.
Interest in the Association is spreading throughout England.
AfiSliated though autonomous Associations are now established in
Manchester, Middlesbrough, Plymouth, Oxford, and Walthamstow.
Enquirers anxious to see the work, with a view to similar organisations,
have come from Toronto, Finland, Vienna, and Copenhagen, and
particulars have been sent, by request, to Hong Eong.
We all sympathise with the objection, *What, yet another
Society ! are there not enough, and more than enough, already % '
The answer is that of the poet :
New ocoasions make new dutieB.
In olden days there were funds for rescuing prisoners from the Saracens,
. hospices for lepers, and doles given at the monastery gates. Now
a world full of work is full of hope, but also full of danger. It
was stated the other day that during the year 1904 seventy-four
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960 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Dee.
pules of streetB had been added to the metaropdiB— eeveaty-foui
additional miles of bricks and mortar inhabited by human bebgi
and teeming with youth. Surely all who are able will be willing to
dosomethingy not only to sucooor the little ones in illness and to teach
them the hard facts of life, but also to show them that life is not all
hardness, and to help those standing on its threshold to gather their
fall share of the flowers of happiness which blossom round its portal
M. E. Jebsbt.
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1905
THE VICTORIAN WOMAN
The world moyes fast in these days, and we seem already to have
left the Victorian age far behind us. For the most part we boast
of Victorian achievements : Early Victorian literature, Victorian poets
and noveUstSy Victorian men of science, Victorian triumphs in industry
and inventions, Victorian geographical discoveries, Victorian conquests,
all these things and many more we have judged, and they seem to
most of us very good. But we are never tired of girding at Victorian
manners, Victorian dress, Victorian furniture, and it is now the fashion
to speak slightingly of the Victorian woman. It is an unmannedy
fashion ; for these women were our mothers and our grandmothers,
and what we distinguished beings are to-day they have made us.
' A lobster does not bring forth an elephant ; he conceivably might,
but he never has,' said one of the witty sages of UOrme du Mail to
me once, d propos of the revolutionists who denounced the past.
Enamoured of themselves as are the women of to-day, they are em-
phatically the children of the despised Victorian.
She had a delightful reserve, the maiden of the middle eighteen
hundreds, though she may have appeared at first sight obvious enough,
discharging her little household duties with a pretty precision and
a happy pride. But there was quality behind the easiness and pretti-
ness, with that faint touch of the personally austere in which idealism
has its root. Of self-indulgence there was comparatively little ; the
' times ' did not favour it materially, and indulgence to others is not
a soil in which indulgence to self flourishes. To be censorious was
held up as the ugliest vice. But, above all, the young girl was a
mysterious being. There was a mystery of strengtii in those simple
quiet lives, a mystery too of dignity. Woman was the ' pursued '
not the ^ pursuer,' and it was worth an effort to be admitted to her
sanctuary. Proud she was too, and nice in her acceptance of pleasant
things offered her ; nice also in her discrimination between the well
and the not well, with a fine courage as of race.
This may seem to some a picture over-coloured and unreal;
but the history of the Victorian women known to fame is writ plain
before us, and the private histories of women in countless families,
the mothers, wives and sisters of the men of the century, tell the same
961
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tale. The estimation in which we hold the ^ctorian woman has
soffered not a little from the ^ Amelias ' and ^ Doras ' of the great
novelists : a type to be found in every country, though perhaps never
very common, appealing rather to men than to women in the patiios
of helplessness. It is said by painters that there is nothing in the
art of portraiture more difficult than to make living, on canvas, a very
young and beautiful woman, to suggest with sufficient tenderness
and delicacy the temperament and character but half unfolded ; so
the novelist finds his greatest difficulty in drawing for us 1^ young
girl. The modem novelist indeed has frankly abandoned the attempt
as impossible for him ; even the great Sir Walter has not given us
a noble picture of English girlhood. We must go to another than
Scott, to Mr. George Meredith, for fine portzaits of English girls, and
I claim for them that the Victorian women sat as models.
It is often supposed that the Victorian girl was a poor creature,
limited by the four walls of her mother's drawing room : a very bundle
of prejudices and conventions, who fainted at every difficulty^ and
wept on all suitable and unsuitable occasions. Such types belong
to an earlier time, and may be found in Richardson's novels. Did
not Lord Macaulay and his sisters once count the number of weepings
and faintings in which the ' sprightly and accomplished Miss Byrtm '
indulged, between her acceptance of Sir Charles Grandison and her
wedding day ? Fine feelings and sentiment were then in vogue, and
were carefully cultivated ; but such was not the teaching given by
our grandmothers to our mothers. Noblesse obUge was their text :
they taught that an educated woman should be equal to any emer-
gency ; that a lady could be degraded only by what was within her,
not by outward circumstance ; that a gentlewoman should have as
part of her equipment for life a knowledge of cooldng and of needle-
work— ^ that tobacco of women ' as George Sand once said. Every
woman should sew, they taught, for thus she was in sympathy with
her poorer sisters of the needle, and to all her work she should bring
that touch of delicacy and finish which must result from a good
education. So the care of a household, the spending of money, the
household budget, the education of children, the training young
servants were considered high social duties, to which the wise woman
would bring all her skill and courage. Is it conceivable that the
servant question now always with us is in great measure caused by
the absence of such training of the mistresses ?
Other precepts were that a young mother should live a great deal
with her children, teach them, play with them, read to them, be their
playmate and their friend. It was no uncommon thing for « culti-
vated mother to teach her children, boys and girls, up to the time
they went to school. Many distinguished men have been tiius taught
by their mothers. Perhaps in all degrees of social life the mother
took a more active share in education than she does to-day. An
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1906 THE VICTOBIAN WOMAN 958
elderly workman told the writer that his great love of history had
come from his mother, who, in days long before school boards, was
wont, on one evening in the week, to bring out her basket of darning
and patching, and gathering the children round her on the floor,
to teU them tides from the history of England.
Life in Victorian days was, as we know, simpler and more frugal
than it is now. The dress allowances of girls would alone prove this.
The girl who received 301. or 401. a year was considered to have a
good allowance ; 501. or 60{. was wealth. But whatever the income,
it was a rule not to spend the whole of it, but to set aside some portion
for generous purposes. We may contrast this with the remark of
the up-to-date smart woman, ^ that the great thing in life is to look
rich, and give a hal^nny.*
The word * smart,' by the way, was thought a vulgarism. I am
afraid that * smart ' people would have been dubbed ^ vulgarians.'
The Victorian woman loved her home, and as a rule lived in it from
year to year with but few changes, and curiously few amusements.
The writer has heard it said of women belonging to an older generation
that they had never been known to propose an entertainment for
themselves. It woxdd yet be wholly untrue to suggest that they
were dull in their Uves or lethargic in intelligence. They were perverse
enough to like it so. ^ I find myself very good company ' said one
old lady. ' I do not pay myself the ill compliment to suggest that
I could be bored with myself.' She kept a diary of the old-fashioned
sort, not so much to chronicle events as to have a daily record of her
life, her moods, her growth, her shortcomings and failings. It was
full of shrewd humour and observation, with pathetic touches, as
when, in complaining of failing health, she says : ' Am getting to be
too fond of sitting in easy chairs ; mem. — ^to cure mjrself of this.'
Dear, delightful old lady, where shall we find your like !
It is impossible to speak of English girls of sixty years ago without
a reference to Anthony Trollope's many and delightful heroines.
TroUope has suffered a temporary eclipse, but I rejoice to know
that he is becoming the fashion again, and must, one would think,
live as the delineator of manners in the England of his day. He
has caught some of the true spirit of the English girl — ^her courage,
pride, self-reiiance and delicacy, and has painted her for us with a
loving hand. The scene c»i which his characters move is doubtiess a
narrow one ; the outlook of lus heroines is restricted, but the artistic
values of his novels could not have been so true had it been otherwise.
It must have been in the same spirit that Jane Austen conceived
her work. There were exciting pubUc events enough in her time,
but there is hardly a trace of military men or adventure in any of
her books. Both she and TroUope give us pictures of life in modest,
quiet, peaceful homes, the normal conditions in which happy girl-
hood flourishes. The tone is subdued, but it is outside their scheme
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of odour to introduoe boming sooial questionSy to make ramtmu d
liUe. The Viotoiian giil was a natoral, noimal oreatme, growing
np under healthy, natural conditiont, and TroUppe has made delicate
studies of her for us, if somewhat too photographically.
But there were women doing noble pioneer work. Geozge Bliot
was reaching out to larger and more generous issues; the sisters
Bronte were beating out their passionate lives, like poor caged larks ;
Elisabeth Barrett Browning was rousing men to a sense of social
injustice ; Mrs. Oaskell wrote pleading the cause of the workers ; Miss
Nightingale inaugurated for us the system of modem nursing, and all
up and down the country English women and English girls were teach-
ing, woddng, nursing and befriending the poor, whose lot in those hard
days, but for them, would have been cruel indeed. Autres tempi
a^Ures mcmmM. The work of one generation can never be exactly the
work of the next generation. The women of to-day are not called
upon to carry on the e£Eorts of their mothers and grandmothers on
the same lines, or in the same spirit. But the Victorian woman
did fine work in her time, and we may daim that she was ahead of
public opinion on many social questions, and was a pioneer in the
van of progress.
It is impossible not to note here one peculiarity of these efforts.
Women were not hampered in those days by the desire to prove that
they were a class apart, fighting for their own interests, a sort
of I.W.P. They judged of work as good or bad, and were content
to swell the sum of good work without ostensibly seeking to differen-
tiate it as woman's work. The women I have spoken of had all of them
had the training of the ordinary middle-class English girL Gteorge
Eliot in a farmhouse, the Brontes as poor clergyman's daughters,
and Mrs. Browning as the squire's daughter. With the exception
of the Brontes, whose circumstances forced them to an early maturity,
all these women developed late, and had led quiet, peaceful lives in
their families, with the inestimable boon of time to mature. Forced
fruit ii never so full of flavour or so plentiful as that which is visited
by cold, and wind, and sun, and rain ia turns, to ripen in due season.
We may wonder whether Charlotte and Emily Bronte, George Eliot or
Mrs. Browning, could have given us their beautiful gifts had they
passed from high school to college, and from college to some public
office. True, Mrs. Browning's rhymes and verses might have been
more strictly correct, but would she have given us ' The Cry of the
Children,' ' Aurora Leigh,' or the ' Sonnets from the Portuguese ' 1 Was
not the narrow hard life, was not the mjrsterious silence and solitude
of the moors, necessary to the artistic work of the Bronte sisters as
we have it ? Would George Eliot's books have been what they were
had she not lived those long, quiet, uneventful years 'mid pious farm
labourers, patient kine, and all the happy, stirring sights and sounds
of a busy farmyard ?
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Suoh speculations aie surely not idle, for we have yet to learn
whether the cast-iron discipline suitable to the youth will prove to
be wisdom for the maiden, whether the commonwealth will not have
to suffer for the tribute of women to the labour market.
But with these distinguished writers we have by no means ex-
hausted the tale of remarkable Victorian women. In scholarship we
have the well-known name of Miss Swanwick, in science that of
Mrs. Somerville.
Mr. Gladstone has assured us that it was owing to women that
the study of Italian was kept aUve in England in the last century ; it
was certainly women who studied foreign literature with sympathetic
interest, and who were able to converse in French and Qerman. This
really important service was rendered by cultivated women in every
family in the country, and calls for no further notice. Mrs. Mill, on
the other hand, was an inspiring and enduring influence ; while Mrs.
Carlyle will be remembered wherever Thomas Carlyle's work is spoken
of. There were a host of lesser luminaries — ^Miss Yonge, Mrs. Jameson,
Mrs. Grote, Mrs. John Austin, Miss Martineau, Lady Duff (Gordon,
and many more. I do not venture to name these ladies in order of
merit ; I speak of them as of those whose claim to distinction cannot
be disputed. The names of ladies prominent in the poUtical and
social worlds will occur to everyone— Lady William Russell, the second
Lady Stanley of Alderley, Lady Waldegrave, and many more.
I may be permitted to say a few words about Mrs. John Taylor,
her daughter Sarah Austin, and her grand-daughter Lady Duff Gordon.
Mrs. John Taylor belonged to the remarkable group of clever, culti-
vated men and women Uving at Norwich from the middle of the
eighteenth to the middle of the nineteenth century. Mrs. Taylor
must have been a notable woman. She was spoken of as the
' Madame Roland of Norwich.' We hear of that ' glorious grand-
mother dancing round the Tree of Liberty with Dr. Parr,' in the
excitement at Norwich on the fall of the Bastille ; and in quieter
mood, darning her boys' stockings; while she held her own with
Dr. Southey, Brougham, and Mackintosh. The Taylors were not
rich, but they kept open house to a distinguished company. Sir
James Smith, Mr. Crabb Robinson, Mrs. Barbauld, Amelia Opie,
Dr. Southey, the Gumeys, Martineaus, Mr. Wyndham, Mr. Smith-
grandfather of Florence Nightingale, the Sewards, and Dr. Parr were
constant visitors. In this frugal but interesting home Sarah Austin
was brought up. She was the youngest of seven children, and her
mother devoted much loving care to her education. Mrs. Taylor's
letters written to ' dear Sally ' might be a vade mecum to the young
girl going for the first time into the great world.
Sarah Taylor in I8I9 married John Austin, and the young married
pair settled in the upper part of No. 1 Queen Square, Westminster,
close to James Mill and Jeremy Bentham. In I82I her only child
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Laoie, was bom, and a very full and, indeed, arduous mariied life
began for the young wife.
John Austin was of a sensitive, melancholy temperament, and
suffered all his life from ill-health. Sarah Austin was gay and buoyant,
a beautiful woman, and a brilliant conversationalist. She devoted
her life to her husband to cheer and encourage him, and arranged
everything in the little minage to give him the fullest leisure, quiet,
and freedom for his work. She gathered round her all that was beet
and most interesting in London society, while contributing largely to
the household expenses with her pen. Of the life of the Austins in
Germany and at Malta there is no space here to speak. Mrs. Austin,
as many another Englishwoman before her time and since, showed a
fine courage and devotion during the outbreak of cholera, which
swept away 4,000 poor souls from the Rock. But her whole life on
the island was devoted to the interests of the natives, in seeking to
promote a worthy system of schools and education for the people,
and in befriending art and artists wherever she could find them.
' I will sell my gowns,' says she in one of her letters, ^ rather than this
poor artist should be disappointed.' Not content with all this en-
grossing public work, she was devoting what leisure she had to the
translation of Ranke. The Professor writes to her later 'that the
work has given him the greatest satisfaction.'
Mrs. Austin's knowledge of foreign languages, her sympathy and
interest in political and social questions, had won her many Mends
abroad. She had a large and varied correspondence with such men
as Guizot, de Vigny, Auguste Comte, Victor Cousin, B. St.-Hilaire,
and many more, English as well as foreign. It would not be too much
to say that she had a European influence. In spite of much sorrow
in the protracted ill-health and at last the death of Mr. Austin, in
anxiety for her beloved daughter, combined with very limited means,
her interest in public questions never waned, and her friendships
remained with her to the end.
The only child of such remarkable parents, it would have been
strange if Lucie Austin, afterwards Lady Duff Gtordon, had been of
the ordinary fibre. She grew to be a most beautiful woman, a graceful
and gracious creature with something of the fairy princess about her.
Brought up by her mother upon Latin and Greek, she early assimi-
lated these languages, and added to them French, German, and
Italian. At Boxdogne she met the poet Heine, who was greatly
attracted by the charming young English girl, and wrote in her praise
the verses 'Wenn ich an deinem Hause' to her 'braune Augen.'
She married early Sir A. Duff Gordon, and was early struck with lung
disease. The story of her exquisite translations— the Amber Wiich
Soc. — ^and the fantastic tale of her life in the desert alone, surrounded
by adoring natives, should be read in that most delightful and
interesting book, Three Oenerations of Englishwomen, from which this
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short account has been taken. Lady Duff Gordon may be called a
woman of genius and originality. Her warmth of heart and the
sympathy she felt for victims of injustice all the world over will keep
the unique blossom of her memory green.
Enough has been said, it would seem, to show that the Victorian
woman had character, intelligence, plenty of originality, and ^ grit,'
and had, moreover, that which is a touchstone of character — ^true
warmth of heart. Many distinguished women are with us to-day,
but we shall do well in our English world if the next sixty years can
produce a roll of names so justly considered as those I have cited.
We hear a great deal of cant about convention and the conventional.
All art, and every kind of society, even the most rudimentary, rests
upon convention. Bees and ants appear to enforce theirs rigidly
enough if we may judge by the bows of the queen bee's bodyguard
and the other rites and ceremonies of the hive. It is a convention to
eat mustard with beef rather than with mutton-— open, of course, to
us to disregard it, but long generations of men have found it eats
best so, and life is too short to investigate and readjust every usage
of society. Our mothers and grandmothers were content to accept
many tUngs as settled once and for all — ^i.e. that truth and loyalty
were noble, falsehood and betrayal base ; that in altruism rather than
in egoism man found his truest life ; that temperance was wiser
than excess ; that the strong should bear the burdens of the weak.
Such confidence lent strength and serenity to their lives, and enabled
them to give themselves to the work before them with a quiet mind.
If an impartial observer who had known the old rigvme and the
new were asked to declare in what consisted the chief difference, he
would, I think, reply : ' In the loss of the ideal, in the absence of
sentiment.' Sentiment, I know, is a ' vile phrase,' and has been greatly
misused ; but we lack a better word. One of our leading novelists —
a woman — ^was lamenting to me the other day over the decline of
feeling. ^ The rush, the infinite variety of the life of to-day robs
women of the time to think and to feel. There is less deep feeling
to-day than of old.' If so, life will become a greyer, uglier, poorer
thing than it was to our mothers and grandmothers — to the despised
Victorian woman.
E. B. Harrison
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SOME ASPECTS OF THE STAGE
Social
Cbbtain organs of the Press aie never tired of inftisting on the im-
proved social status of actors and actresses, and there is some ground
for this assertion, for of late years the names of the more ^ninrait
members of the dramatic profession are found numbered amongst the
guests at even royal garden parties. But it is a moot point whether
they have been invited because they are actors and actresses, or in
spite of the fact that they are such, since the exercise of their calling
is a bar to their official reception at Court. There is, of course, no
earthly reason why a man or woman should expect to have the right
to be presented qwi artist, but as long as his or her calling is held to
be, ocBtom port&uff, in itself an insurmountable barrier to a presenta-
tion at Court, it is perhaps as well not to insist too strongly on tlie
improvement in their social status. I am far from thinking that the
dramatic calling gives people a right to pay th^ respects to the
Sovereign, but I btil to understand why it should deprive of that right
those who previously had it. Perhaps the reason is found in the fact
that, face the efnlmU oardidley there is not much affinity betwe^i
monarchs and republics, and the stage has been rightiy enrolled
among the latter, though whether it can daim the full motto of a
republic, * Liberty, equality, fraternity,' I take leave to doubt.
Liberty may be enjoyed in a theatre within limits. The authority
of the manager is very properly supreme, and in the case of the
London managers with whom I have been brought into contact it is
exercised with much tact and consideration; but the same thing
cannot always be said of the subordinate officials, especially where
they have become closely acquainted with American methods, and I
have known a gentleman engaged to ' produce ' a play whose auto-
cratic method would not disgrace a Czar; I have known a sti^-
manager more authoritative than the manager himself, although he
would generally shelter himself behind the name of the latter gentie-
man, styled generally the * governor ' or the * chief,' with a pleasing
suggestion of military discipline.
Equality, indeed, reigns amongst the members of the company of
a theatre, but it is that sort of equality which consists of everybody
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1906 SOME ASPECTS OF THE STAGE 969.
being ' as good as his neighbour and a great deal better, too,' only the
relative degrees of excellence are regulated, not by the determining
factors which prevail in the outside world, but by the relative import-
ance of the place occupied by each one in the intricate puzzle which^
when duly pieced together, is presented nightly for tiie public delecta*
tion. Thus the limelight man differs not in Idnd, but only in degree,
from the leading actor, whose best effects are largely dependent on the
former's illuminating art; and the dresser can claim to share the
triumphs of the leading actress, whose beauteous form she envelops
in those ^ creations ' which earn for the modiste a just title to con-
sider herself on a par with the author of the play, for the dresses the
heroine wears are at least as important as the words she utters.
Fraternity is, unquestionably, the hall-mark of stageland; its
inhabitants are loyal to their managers, loyal to the authors, and
loyal to each other ; perhaps they carry their fraternity a Uttle too
far, even to the verge of familiarity. The use of Christian names and
nicknames is almost universal, always, bien entendu^ between members
of the same sex, and reserve is misunderstood, perhaps even mistaken
for something less commendable. It is perhaps a pity that in their
large-hearted expansiveness so many theatrical celebrities should have
taken the public into their confidence, and admitted it into the secret
places of their domestic lives. Let us hope that it is with great
reluctance that they have done so, and that the fault lies at the door
of the too insidious interviewer or the over-persuasive photographer ;
because Romeo as a father is not necessarily more interesting in that
capacity than is the ordinary city man, and Juliet as a nurse is not
much more romantic as such than the wife of a clerk in an office.
But the public is partly to blame if members of the theatrical pro-
fession lift the veil which should conceal their domestic, as opposed
to their public life, since it seems to be generally assumed that they
either cannot or will not talk about anything except themselves and
their work. They may, therefore, be readily excused for supposing
that their private tastes and pursuits are matters of national interest ;
although it is perhaps a pity that they should entertain an exaggerated
idea of the particular work they are engaged in for the moment, as
their sense of proi>ortion becomes somewhat stunted thereby. But,
if only people would realise the fact, actors are not anxious to talk
' shop ' in society ; doctors are not expected to discuss diseases at
dinner, nor are lawyers called upon to wax loquacious over litigation
at luncheon, but everyone insists on talking to an actor about his
work. On a first introduction, it is certain that he will be asked
within two minutes if ^ he doesn't get very tired of playing the same
part so often ! ' Poor man, to him is rigorously appUed the injunction,
*' Ne siOar swpra crepidam.^ It may have been correct to thus restrict
him to one idea, one topic of conversation, in the days when he lived
in Bohemia, but he lives there no longer ; he is for the mOQt part just
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960 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Dec
an ordinary cituen, he wean nnobtnudve garments, he eats and drinks
like other people, he takes part in healthy outdoor exercises, and
takes an interest in the ordinary subjects which appeal to other
people. Of course there still remain some eccentrics — ^happily rare in
London — ^who have no use for the services of the hair-cutter, whose
headgear recalls the Tyrol, whose neckties remind one of the rainbow.
They have their feminine counterparts, but these seldom penetrate
further westward than the Strand, whose general appearance is
stamped with that extravagance which is totally absent from that of
the well-known London actresses who, with few exceptions, would
pass unrecognised amongst a crowd of English women, but for the
fact that the photographers have made their features familiar to the
public. If only they will cease from advertising their private lives,
Mr. and Miss , his talented wife, the stars of the Theatre,
will soon attract no more attention in a London drawing-room than
Mr. and Mrs. Smith, and what a comfort that will be, to aU
concerned!
Moral
It is always rather difficult to treat of the moraUty of the stage,
as there is always a large number of excellent people who are swayed
by preconceived prejudices, whom nothing and nobody will ever
convince to the contrary. They genuinelybelieve that the atmosphere
of the theatre is charged with the microbe of immorality ; its maleficence
they consider to be less powerful in front of than behind the curtain,
but behind that mysterious veil they hold that its power for evil is
invincible, and that men and women must necessarily succumb to its
deadly influence. No antidotes, apparentiy, avail against this poison-
ous germ ; the natural refinement of a decently brought-up girl cannot
counteract it ; the honest respect of a man for a woman (until he finds
her unworthy of it) is swept away directly the microbe attacks him.
Well, there may be some theatres peculiarly favourable to the growtii
of this germ, but I have not found them in London ; I can only speak
of the comedy theatres, having had experience only of these. It
•annot, perhaps, be claimed for them that etiquette, behind the
scenes, is as strict as it was at the Com^die Franjaise, where it was
stricter even than at the Imperial Court ; but there will certainly be
found no more looseness of manners, no more laxity of morals than in
many a drawing-room, indeed much less than in some. Most of tiie
actresses I have met have been patterns of respectability, as admirable
in their private as in their pubUc lives ; but, of course, these remarks
apply only to real actresses, not to those who caU themsdves such
only in poUce courts. Anyone embarking on a stage career expecting
to find himself thrown into the excitement of an Agapemone or the
Pare aux Cerfs will be grievously disappointed ; he will find himself in
an atmosphere as rarefied as that of a Sunday-school meeting, and jiffit
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1906 SOME ASPECTS OF THE STAGE 961
about as exHilarating. This state of afEaiis is the more commendable
when we remember that there are undoubtedly many demoralising ten-
dencies on the stage. What, for instance, can be more destructive of
a man's self-respect than the nightly necessity (repeated on two after-
noons during the week) of bedaubing his unhappy face with pigments
of a more or less unwholesome and malodorous nature ? Surely, it is
inconsistent with an Englishman's dignity to disguise himself into a
resemblance with a North American Indian on the war-path ; for the
actor does not see himself as others see him, with distance to lend
enchantment to the view. No, he sees himself reddened and whitened
and blackened and blued, and, as often as not, wearing hirsute adorn-
ments on his lip or on his cheek, perchance too on his head, of foreign
instead of indigenous growth. Unquestionably 'make-up' is de-
moralising to the male mind ; judging from the increasing prevalence
of this custom, in cases where there are no exigencies of the stage to
excuse it, the feminine nature is less apprehensive of any deterioration
of character arising from this cause. The actress has other influences
to combat which might (but do not) have a prejudicial effect on her ;
if she thought about it at all, it must be very painful to be clasped in
the arms of a man who a few days before was a complete stranger to
her, to hear the same man pouring words of passionate love into her
ear, swearing that he adores her. Of course he doesn't mean it, and
she knows that ; his arms hold her as loosely as possible, so as not to
cause her any inconvenience, and the kiss he bestows on her is but
the lightest brushing of her cheek with the end of a moustache pur-
chased at a perruquier's. One would imagine that to be engaged for
two or three hours nightly in breaking fractions — if not the whole — of
the Decalogue would be subversive of good conduct ; but no, the same
woman who at ten o'clock has forged or poisoned, or allowed herself
to forget her conjugal duties, will be found at midnight partaking of a
light repast in the company of her own husband. But habit is a
subtle and dangerous thing, and there is always the chance that during
a long run of a piece some thoroughly conscientious artist, accustomed
to * lose ' himself ' in his part,' might forget his own identity in private
life and act as he does in the play. The idea is full of unpleasing
possibilities.
Who does not know the middle-aged man of the world who,
charming in a play, is always ready to explain away misunderstandings,
to recall to their duty those who are suffering from temporary moral
aberration, to thwart the schemes of the evil, to suggest wise courses
of action to the (apparently) mentally deficient? How awful it
would be if such a habit, nightly indidged in, became an inseparable
part of himself, and an otherwise agreeable man became an universal
meddler ! Still more appalling is the thought that the impersonator
of comic characters should become so infected with comedy as to
acquire the habit of being funny on his own account, in his home or
Vol. LVm— No. 846 3 R
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962 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Dec
at his club ; the epigram or paradox put by an eminent dramatist into
the mouth of * Lord de Vere * in a comedy would be horribly boring
from the lips of BIr. Jones in the Thespian Club. Fortunately there is
little danger really of such a catastrophe, the character is dropped by
the actor— with his stage clothes — ^in his dressing-room ; it is difficult
enough to assume it, even for an hour or two on the stage ; it is doubtful
if he ever really feels himself to be the person he represents. That i&
the worst of the stage, it is all what the children call ^ make-believe.'
The story of the play never was true, perhaps never could have been so ;
it was invented by the author because he thought it was a striking one ;
the characters which work out the plot have often not been observed
in everyday life, they have been imagined and fashioned to order, l^e
larger-sized ones being made to fit the most important members of
the company. The scenery is utterly unreal ; the flowers, trees, and
grasses are a travesty of nature ; the waUs of the houses are canvas,
and the mountains are painted wood. The stage champagne is
lemonade, and the golden goblet from which the burgundy is quaffed
is made of cardboard. It's all very entertaining, but it is not lasting ;
hence, its effects upon actors and audiences alike are ephemeral and
evanescent.
Pecuniary
One sees it stated, from time to time, that some fortunate, and
doubtless talented, stage favourite is in receipt of an income rivalling
that of a Cabinet Minister. He may be so for a time. The Cabinet
Minister, unless he be a member of a particularly short-lived Govern-
ment, can reckon on his salary for three or four years ; the actor cannot
depend upon it for certain for as many weeks. The earners of these
exceedingly handsome incomes probably do not number more than a
dozen at most, and the names of those whose emoluments reach
double figures per week are, with few exceptions, to be found in any
daily paper ^ Under the Clock.' It is not an encouraging picture,
three or four hundred actors and actresses whose incomes are lOI.
a week and over ; many thousands of them who, if they are lucky
enough to be constantly in work, can make on an average 32. or
41. per week. True, they would earn less as clerks in an office or
employes in a post-office, but their employment would be a certain
one, and they would be able to look forward in most cases to a pensicm,
when they were past their work. But then such work is dull, routine
is tedious, there are no big prizes to be hoped for ; on the other hand,
there are no absolute blanks, whereas, on the stage there is alwaj^
the chance of this Cabinet Minister's income for the lucky ones, and
everyone hopes to be one of these. So the cry is ' Still they come,'
crowding more and more the already overcrowded ranks ; they bring
their youth, their hopes, their energy, their ambition, their talents, their
beauty, only to fall out for the most part, broken and disappointed.
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1905 SOME ASPECTS OF THE STAGE 968
There is an old Harrow football song with the refrain : ' Fights for the
fearless, goals for the eager ' ; fights there are in plenty, the stage is
one long fight, but the goals are too few to satisfy all the eager ones,
the majority never emerge from the ^ scrummage.' ' No matter ! '
cries each new votary of the stage. * Some one must get the ball out
of the scrummage, run with it — skimming over the ground, dodging
the opposing players, eluding the half-backs, leaving the full-back
prone on his back, as one lodges the ball right between the goal posts.'
True, oh! optimistic neophyte! But such a feat demands skill,
speed, and endurance ; many have some of these gifts, few have them
all; all are needed if success is to be attained, as on the football
field, so in the field of art ; together with a total disregard of all
rebuffs, physical in the former case, moral in the latter. What chance
has little Miss Daisy McHamish ? Her &ther the late (General
McHamish's pension died with him, so the daughter resolves to work
to help to support her mother ; on the strength of a success obtained
in a theatrical performance in a village schooboom, she decides to
^go on the stage.' That is literally all she will do; her tiny voice
would hardly be heard beyond the first two rows of stalls in a London
theatre ; at most she will ' walk on ' in a ballroom scene. So, too,
will Mr. Roscius, who, having once acted a minor part with the
O.U.D.S., deserts the lucrative paths of the law in favour of the
stage ; hampered by a slight lisp and a painful consciousness of self,
he also will never have anything blit a perambulatory part. Perhaps,
after a series of purely peripatetic performances, these young people
will find out in time that too many men and women are already
pressing forward to the goal of stage success, and will abandon the
boards in favour of a safer, if less showy, occupation. Given talent,
perseverance, and luck, acting is not a bad calling as a means of
providing butter, more or less thinly spread ; but, as a source from
which to draw the necessary bread, it is undependable. Possessed of
some fixed income of his own, to enable him to tide over the weeks or
months when managers and authors seem forgetful of their own
interests, and allow the talented artist to blush unseen, he may find
the stage a satisfactory calling, and he will probably not have to
remain unemployed so long as his less fortunate brother, on the
principle that ' to him who hath shall be given,' which holds good
more, almost, in the theatrical world than anywhere, since the popular
favourites are always at work, and the others are always at rest.
Artistio
With bated breath let it be whispered, the English public is not
artistic. If the average finglishman be asked to define an artist, he
will unhesitatingly reply, * A fellow who paints ' ; he will energetically
deny the claim of men of letters to be so called, the poet, the novelist,
3«2
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964 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Dec
the dramatist, he does not include in the category of artists. The
actor he does admit into the artistic ranks, but he then speDs tiie
word ^artiste,* a distinction more properly reserved for those who
prefix the noun with the adjective 'variety.' Tell the proverbi^
' man in the street ' that a play ought to be a work of art complete
as a whole, with each separate act and scene, each character, con-
tributing towards the formation of one harmonious whole, he will
smile indulgently and tell you .that he ' doesn't go to the theatre to
think,' that he ' wants to be taken out of himself.' Hence the perennial
popularity of musical comedy, which pleasantly appeals to the senses
and makes no demands upon the mind. That is a fact which managers
have to bear in mind : their patrons don't want to think. In the case
of the patrons of the stalls and boxes, such a process would be incon-
venient, if not dangerous, on the top of a lengthy dinner at any popular
restaurant, which cannot be swallowed satisfactorily in its entirety
before nine o'clock. The drama thus becomes a digestive. It is not
comedy as such, but as a substitute for bicarbonate of soda, that has
to be provided. When ' the man in the street ' wants to be ' taken
out of himself,' he doesn't require the same means of disembodiment
to be employed. At times he desires to laugh himself out of himself, at
other times he wishes to cry himself out of himself ; he desires to have
his risible or his lacrymose faculties mildly tickled — but he would
hate to ask himself the reason why he is thus affected ; he does not
wish to treat what he r^ards as an amusement as a serious thing at
all. For a very brief period the worthy man got away from his incon-
venient ego by means of the so-called ' problem play,' but he very soon
tired of that process ; he found himself out of the frying-pan and in
the fire ; it actually made him think ; he was very near to considering
a play seriously as if it were a work of art. Of course it might so
happen that our friend actually appreciated and patronised a real
dramatic work of art, but he would be very much surprised to hear
that he had done so ; in fact his astonishment would probably only be
equalled by that of the man who awoke one day to find that he had
been writing prose all his life. The managers, therefore, who are
men of business first and artists afterwards, have to anticipate the
popular taste and provide just such dramatic fare as will, for tlie
moment, remove the ' man in the street ' out of his husk and transport
him into the particular shell he desires to occupy, one wherein he will
laugh, or one wherein he will weep. But one difficulty is that per-
haps he won't want to do either ; he may wish only to be thrilled.
Fortunately there is a special class of play offered to him in that case;
it is called melodrama, and it is the business of one or two specialists
to supply it ; the ordinary manager can be certain of a princely income
if he can only accurately f orec€tst whether the barometer of public
taste points to laughter or to tears. Even then; it isn't all plain
sailing ; sometimes the playgoer will laugh at the risqui wit of the
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French school, at others he demands wholesome British fun ; some-
times his tears are near the surface, at others you must dig down
before they bubble up. Some managers possess the divining rod
which tells them exactly where to sink the well and tap their patrons'
emotions; these make fortunes, the others make — ^mistakes. But,
what of acting as an art ? It is doubtful if, properly speaking, it can
be considered an art at all ; at most it is merely a mimetic one. The
nearer an art approaches to pure creation, the higher it ranks in the
artistic scale. To create out of nothing is beyond human power ; the
fewer and the more elementary the materials from which the work of
art is fashioned, the nearer it approaches to the art of pure creation.
Judged by this standard, the place of acting in the ranks of art is
indeed a low one. Some actors and actresses are artists, in the sense
that they are capable of appreciating artistic beauty and of expressing
it ; they will probably lose this gift, with the growth of the pernicious
system of meticulous instruction on the part of * producers ' of plays,
who demand a parrot-like imitation of their own tones and gestures,
thereby destroying all that individuality which led to the selection of
a particular player for a particular part.
Some actors and actresses are not artists at all, but they have the
greatest gift of all — one which enables them to dispense with talent
and with experience. They have that indefinable, invaluable gift of
' charm ' ; it gets across the footlights, it infects the audience, and those
who are thus endowed may defy criticism, may laugh at all artistic
laws, because, whatever they say or do, it is right in the eyes of their
patrons — the public. There is much to be said against the dramatic
calling; some of its drawbacks I have endeavoured to point out ; but
' it takes all sorts to make a world,' and a theatre is a world in minia-
ture. The sun does not always shine in stageland, nor does it any-
where, but the dwellers in that land are always ready to lend each
other their umbrellas when it rains. Faults and failings find their
places there as in other lands ; so, too, do virtues. Courage and per-
severance, kind-heartedness, and charity find the stage soil congenial
to their growth ; and the little world behind the footlights is as good a
one as many another in which a man or woman may fulfil the mission
of * a little work, a little play, and then— good day.'
Adolphus Vane Tempest.
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966 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY D%o.
THE
DEPOPULATION QUESTION IN FRANCE
Thb continued agitation in France over the question of depopulation,
which has found expression in the appointment of an Extra-Padia-
mentary Commissicm, possesses permanent interest for us from the
fact that the advanced States of the world are suffering from similar
conditions, though in a modified form. We may immediately premise
that depopulation is a term incorrectly applied to describe the present
state of affairs in France. France is not becoming de-peopled. Its
population simply remains stationary, or nearly so. On five occa-
sions during the last century — during the Crimean and Franco-Gterman
wars, the cholera and the dearth, and again in 1900 — ^the lines of
mortality and natality crossed. But the recent census shows that
France has gained about half a miUion in the quinquennial period of
1896-1901. On analysis, however, it is seen that the excess of births
over deaths is only 241,000. That, therefore, is really the growtii of
population during the five years. The other quarter of a million is
to be accQunted for by inmiigration and a lowered death-rate. Whilst
the population of France is making very slow progress, that of Germany
is advancing by leaps and bounds. Before the war, Prussia and the
Confederation had a population slightly below that of France ; to-day,
the numbers of United Germany are fifty-six millions, and those of
France thirty-nine millions. During the past fifty years, the popula-
tion of France has increased only four millions, and the population
of Germany twenty-six milUons. According to figures furnished by
the President of the Statistical Society, London, Germany has added
eighty-eight per cent, to her population in seventy years, the United
Kingdom seventy per cent., and France less than twenty. At the
moment of the war, France and Germany had the same number of
recruits, about 300,000; to-day Germany has 450,000, whilst tiie
French figures have not changed. At her present rate of progression,
it will take Germany eleven years to have twice as many constaripts
as France. ' Then she will begin to devour us,' say the alarmists in
France. The fear of being ' devoured ' is at the root of the French
anxiety on the subject of ' depopulation.' It is a political and
military question. From the point of view of the army, it has a
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1905 DEPOPULATION QUESTION IN FRANCE 967
certain justificatioiL Germany can aiSord to pick and choose in the
matter of her recmitB ; but, as the recent debate in the Senate on the
two years' Service Bill has shown us, France is unable to do this.
Figures are constantly being quoted to show that France is in
danger of becoming a third-class Power. One humdred years ago the
Powers of Europe represented ninety-eight millions of inhabitants,
of which twenty-six millions were French ; to-day the first-class nations
in Europe, alone, number more than 343 millions, of which thirty-
nine millions (only 11 per cent.) live in France. It is computed that
French is spoken by forty-five millions, German by one hundred
miUions, and Engtish by 130 millions. During last century the
population of England has more than doubled, that of Germany tripled,
whilst France has hardly increased one third. What are the causes
of the phenomenon that France, alone amongst the nations of Europe,
is scarcely making any progress in population ? In the census of 1896,
fifty-two of her departments presented the extraordinary spectacle
of an excess of deaths over births, amounting in some cases to as
much as one third. In endeavouring to throw light on this curious
anomaly, we are greatly aided by the researches of the Extra-Par-
liamentary Commission which was appointed in January 1902 by
M. Waldeck-Rousseau. It is the first time that a Government has been
tempted to initiate an inquiry of this sort. The Commission is popularly
known as La Commission Piot, because its creation was inspired
by the worthy senator whose name has been associated for years
with this question. Sad to relate, there has scarcely been a revue of late
years in which he has not been caricatured. The Commission adduced
a vast amount of evidence, some of a very interesting character.
It has established the fact that ' depopulation ' is not due to physio-
logical causes. This is demonstrated in various ways. The pro-
portion of sterile marriages in France (13*3 per cent.) is practically
the same as elsewhere ; neither is the marriage-rate sensibly lower
(France 7'52 per thousand; Germany 8*18; Great Britain, and
Ireland 740 ; Italy 732). To what, then, must we attribute the
inferiority of the birth-rate ? To the small number of households
in which a family of more than two or three children are to be found.
The number of bimilies in which there is only one child is most sig-
nificant. Out of every thousand famiUes, 249 have one child
only, 224 two children, and 150 three. Only 31 per thousand have
six children, and twenty-seven seven and over.
Generally speaking, there is no pathological reason for such restricted
families. Careful and independent investigation by members of
the Commission has proved that in cases where an epidemic swept
away infants they were replaced the following year. There is nothing
to justify the suggestion of unfruitfulness in the race which, in Canada
at all events, shows itself most prolific. It must, therefore, be
assumed that the restriction of family is voluntary. The late
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968 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Dec.
M. Aisdne Dnmont, one of the ablest members of the Gommisfflon, as
well as a writer of distinction on the subject, has quoted in one of
his works various proverbs current amongst the peasantry which
illustrate their dislike of large families. Amongst the peasants of
Normandy are found such expressions as: ^Le couple vaut mieux
que la douzaine/ ' D^sir de roi : gar^on et fille.' In the departament
of the Ome they say: "CTest assez d'un veau pour Therbage.'
' D6sir6/ a common name in France, is never given to the third child,
except in irony. Expressions of little refinement might be quoteu
showing that the woman with child, after she has already given birth
to two, is treated with scant respect by her neighbours. In one part
of Normandy the criticism is recorded: 'Elle est encore enceinte;
quel malheur ! Ces gens-l&, c*est pire que des animaux.' In Lot-et-
Garonne a second * grossesse ' is considered as a shame. * A man who
has children is despised, even by women.'
Are we to suppose that the French are wanting in the famfly
instinct? No one who has had opportunities of studying Fr^idi
* interiors ' in various states of society could ever suppose that. On
the contrary, no people systematically lavish more care and attention
upon their offspring. The reason of the dislike of large families
is rooted in another national characteristic : the love of economy.
Economical in everything, the Frenchman economises in his children.
It is the influence of the bank-book that affects the population curve.
A series of remarkable investigations undertaken in Scandinavian
countries, and afterwards extended to France, prove most con-
clusively that the birth-rate is in direct relation with the esjtril de
privoyance of the people. M. Tallquist's inquiries concerned fire-
insurance, but the same conclusions are to be drawn from the balance-
sheets of the local state and private banks. Where the spirit of
saving is most highly developed, there families are most restricted.
With that premiss in view, we can proceed to a further examina-
tion of the question. It resolves itself into a psychological study
of the peasant character. This esprii d^Spargne, which is found more
widely disseminated in France than in any other country, owes its
existence either to ambition or to a kind of proud timidity. The
peasant father is either desirous that his children should marry into
a class superior to his own, or that they should be safeguarded from
occupying an inferior position. *Un h6ritier unique mari6 k une
h^ritidre unique^ — ^voili son reve,' said one of the members of the
Commission. The parent feels compelled to make a fortune, equal
to his own, for each of his children. If the task be multiplied by
three or four, it becomes one which he shrinks from undertaking.
In the course of my inquiries into the subject, M. Yves Guyot, who
has given much study to the economical side of it, pointed out to
me that amongst the seafaring population of France the birtii-rate
is higher than elsewhere because the esprit de prSvoyance is absent.
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1905 DEPOPULATION QUESTION IN FBANCE 969
Owing to the system of inscription maritime whereby the French
navy is recruited, the State takes care of the sailor from his earliest
years and provides him with a pension when he is old and incapacitated.
As he need take no thought of the morrow, he follows the dictates
of nature and marries early. The fact that the Bretons are firmly
attached to the Catholic religion has also, no doubt, an influence in
determining the age at which they marry. The overwhelming part
that economy pla}rs in the decrease of population is shown by numerous
instances. In a village in Seine-et-Oise there was formerly a popula-
tion engaged in hand-weaving which carried on its industry at home.
Up to that time, the inhabitants were laborious and thrifty and the
birth-rate was low. An entire change occurred in local character when
a factory was set up and the workers were gathered into it. They
abandoned their habits of economy ; they became spendthrift, living
from hand to mouth and getting into debt, and the birth-rate doubled
itself in ten years. In the departments of the Nord and Pas-de-
Calais, where the mining population is poor and improvident, the
number of children is relatively high. The same law prevails in
the agricultural parts of the country. Normandy, Burgundy, and
the vaJley of the Garonne, three of the richest portions of agricultural
France, are each affected by a great diminution in nataUty. In the
Loz^re and the surrounding departments of Ard^che and Aveyron,
the inhabitants are flourishing and provident, and the birth-rate
is low. Brittany, on the other hand, presents a remarkable fecundity,
though its soil is poor and generally unremunerative. The son of a
Breton family, returning from his military service, finds his bed in the
armaire and Ids place at the board taken by a younger brother. He
is forced, as it were, into matrimony to preserve his social entity.
That leads to the natural and true inference that in those states of
society where parental forethought plays the dominant part in the
young man's destinies, there the early marriage is an exception, and
the restricted family the rule. For the two facts have a strong co-
relationr.
In his desire to see his son comfortably settled, the father dis-
courages marriage until he is assured that his heir's portion and that
of his fiancee are sufficient to secure a competenoe. The dot system —
that pecuhar appanage of the marriage customs of the Latin races —
has a considerable influence on the late marriage. Be they peasants
or bourgeois^ the parents of the contracting parties are determined
that the marriage shall be as economically sound as a business partner-
ship. Also, many a marriage is deferred imtil the death of the father,
the son fearing to be compelled, in order to support his wife, to work
outside the parental domain. In the superior classes of society, the
period during which the son is dependent upon his parents is often
extended to the thirtieth year. That is especially the case if the
profession is the law. The young man as juge swppUant receives no
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970 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Dec.
salary, and there is a farther period of unprodactiveness when he
is niade iubditut. It is the fear of the parent that he will not be able
to equip all his children for the battle of life that operates against
the large family. The usoal age for the young man to marry in France
is twenty-eight ; that of the young woman twenty-three. It is carious
to learn that the young men marry six months earlier nowadays than
they did forty years ago, and the women one year and two months
earlier. In the coonlTy they marry earlier than in the towns. Never-
theless, France, of all European nations, shows the greatest tendency
to retard her marriages. That is really one of the secrets imderlying
the present agitation. The young man defers his marriage to a
period three or four years later in France than in England. Only
seven per cent, of the young men from twenty to twenty-five years
of age are married ; in England, within the same periods, the percentage
is twenty-two. Between the ages of twenty-five to twenty-nine the
number of married and unmarried is about equal. From thirty to
forty-nine, seventy-seven per cent, of the male population are married ;
from fifty, upwards, the great majority are married, but that is not
an age at which the union is likely to be useful to population. If
we take the extreme limits of age, from eighteen to fifty years, we
find forty-five per cent, unmarried. The immense proportion of
celibates at an age when the natural instincts are strongest may be
regarded as a dangerous and unhealthy symptom in the national life.
Statistics prove that the death-rate amongst the unmarried men
between the ages of twenty and thirty is fifty to sixty per cent,
higher than amongst the Benedicts. In England, where the young
man has more independence of character, where his outlook on life
is stronger and more confident, marriages take place in a far greater
degree, within the periods when they will be of value to the census.
I believe a considerable amount of influence to be exercised on
the natality tables by the circumstance that the woman works in
France, in the poorer classes, even after she is married. As she
cannot keep her child with her and give it proper attention, she ib
forced to send it to the country or to a creche in the town. The cir-
cumstance of having to adopt such painful and undesirable means
in raising a child will certainly have its effect in lessening the birth-
rate, by inducing a desire to limit the family.
Furthermore, even where no neglect of a criminal nature can be
imputed, the tables of infant mortality are likely to be unfavourably
affected by so unnatural and artificial a method of puericulture.
The growth of the movement known as ' F6minisme ' may be con-
sidered as a contributory cause of late marriages and a small birth-rate.
' F6mimsme ' is the GaUidsed form of the WomenV Rights movement.
It does not base itself so much on female suffrage, which few French-
women desire, as on the right to compete in all the professions and
occupations. Already women are admitted to practise as banLsters.
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1906 DEPOPULATION QUESTION IN FBANCE 971
It is computed that three milUons are employed in the Gk>yermnent
post-offices and other departments, in various professions and occupa-
tions, and in domestic service. Earning small salaries and rising by
slow degrees to positions of even moderate comfort, they have a
tendency to defer their marriages to beyond the normal period.
Belonging, by adoption, to the class of functionaries, they may also
be supposed to partake of its inherent conservatism and timidity to
undertake new responsibilities.
Of late years the limitation of population has been one of the
tenets of the revolutionary Socialists in France, as in other countries.
It is preached by La Voix du Peuple the organ of a universal strike.
Why, it asks, should the proletariat rear up slaves to the industrial
system ? In certain parts of the country the labourer states, as an
objection to having children, that they are. competitors to his own
labour! It may also be assumed that the free discussion of such
subjects on the French stage (as witness the recent play DSpopulation
by M. Brieux) has turned the minds of the town-dwellers in a certain
direction. The same phenomenon, indeed, is noticed in Paris, as
throughout the country : the poorer and more improvident the class,
the higher the birth-rate. «
It must be obvious, from this tentative examination, that no
remedy is possible — short of the absolute endowment of children —
unless thrift is abolished in France, and with it the division of pro-
perty under the Revolutionary Code. Nevertheless there are not want-
ing enthusiasts to prescribe the cure. The gospel according to M. Hot
is the redistribution of fiscal burdens. The bachelor is to be taxed
in favour of the father of the family. This is no new thing. It is
old as the Roman Empire. But it is to be feared that the country
has no money with which to make experiments of this nature. A
certain justice, nevertheless, may be conceded to the contention
that the large family is penalised from the fact that the principal
tax, the impdt mobilier (corresponding to the income tax), is based
upon rental. Ceteris paribus, the unmarried man, or the family
with one child, inhabits a smaller appartement than the household
of three or four, and therefore pays less in direct contributions to
the State. That may suggest some slight palliative. But the Senate,
in discontinuing the sittings of the Commission, has evidently come
to the conclusion that there is little hope of fiscal readjustment, more
especially as the initiative would have to be taken by the Lower
Chamber, where any such project is not the least likely to succeed.
In certain directions, no doubt, the law needs strengthening and
revision. The research for paternity and legal redress for breach
of promise — ^if, under the French system, satisfactory proof could
be established — would go far to mitigate evils that admittedly exist.
Such reforms would introduce greater pliability of social customs,
and probably result in a greater number of legalised unions. But
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972 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Dec.
Mrs. Partington, with her mop, cannot keep out the Atlantic any
more than the measures suggested would effectively deal with diis
question.
There are certain aspects of depopulation which should not be
overlooked. France has always had a low birth-rate. The curious
fact remains that, notwithstanding the present position, the dedine
in births, which has been continuous since 1800, has been less rapid
during the last fifty years than during the first half of tiie century.
Moreover, it seems probable that the increase in population has been
at a greater ratio in the nineteenth than in the preceding centuries.
Indeed, the same truth applies to the whole of Europe. Whilst tiie
patriotic megalomaniac mourns the fact that France, alone amongst
the Great Powers, is not sending her sons to people the waste places
of the earth, and is not sensibly extending her influence by propagat-
ing her language, the question may be asked whether the individuid
Frenchman is any the worse for it. Is the lot, for instance, of the
Oerman, with his superabundant population and his continuoualy
expanding industriaUsm, such as to excite the envy of the citizen
of the Republic ? The party of ' La Revanche ' and the capitalist
and manufacturer may each, from his point of view, desire a more
vigorous growth of population ; but is it possible to suppose that a
nation, which has arrived at that stage of development that implies
knowledge and use of the means of prevention, will rear up children
to be food for powder when those acquired habits of prevision con-
strain it to limit the family to the parental means ? France has
but arrived, in advance, at a point to which all the more civilised
States of the world are slowly but surely travelling. Even the native-
bom Australian is dwindling in numbers, just as the New Englander
is. The prophecy may be hazarded that Ireland, imder its new land
laws and the consequent creation of peasant proprietorship, will soon
begin to experience that restriction of population which we now see
in the other branch of the Celtic race. It may be well to remember
that a man of the high standing and influence of M. Paul Leroy-
Beaulieu clearly expresses the view that is largely held by thoughtful
and intelligent Frenchmen, when he says : ' La France n^est pas une
exception; elle n'a fait qu*accomplir, plus tot que les autres, une
Evolution qui mcne graduellement les nations dvilis^es k Famoin-
drissement du taux de leur nataUt6.'
It is unquestioned that the stationary character of the popula-
tion must have its reflex in political destiny. It is already seen in
the pacific sentiments of the French people. They seek no gold,
they desire no territories. They are in the position of those who are
well content with their own possessions. Hence they have no need
to fight, for all wars of late years are commercial — i,e, colonising— in
their objects. As time goes on, as the great discrepancy in the forces
of the two countries becomes accentuated, that will be an additional
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1905 DEPOPULATION QUESTION IN FBANOE 973
reason for keeping the peace. It would not be in the interest of
Europe to allow France to occupy a less dominant position than is hers
by right of birth and intellectual conquest. From the personal point
of view, the Frenchman is convinced that he enjoys individual
advantages from a low population. As to the politicsJ danger on the
eastern frontier, he was inclined, until recent ' revelations,' to regard
it as a bogey. Being himself determined not to be forced into war,
it is difficult for him to conceive that war will be forced upon him.
Chables Dawbabn.
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974 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Dec.
ANOTHER BOARD OF GUARDIANS
, A REPLY TO MISS SELLERS,
In the September number of this Review Miss Sellers gives figures
showing the expenditure of a certain Board of guardians. I have not
the slightest idea where this Board of guardians is, and therefore I
have not the slightest personal interest in their proceedings, but in
the concluding paragraphs of her paper Miss Sellers asserts that the
guardians whose accounts she has been *' sifting ' are ' typical guardians/
and the * union for which they act is a fairly typical union,' and ^ as
things are there/ she says, ' so are they elsewhere.*
I venture absolutely to deny this most sweeping assertion, although
Miss Sellers informs us that she rather prides herself on 'knowing
something of the ways of Poor Law guardians.' I assert that anyone
really acquainted with Poor Law administration must know that the
expenditure she quotes betrays (if her figures are correct) an extrava-
gance that I should think it would be difficult to parallel in any union
in the kingdom.
I have for many years been chairman of a Board of guardians in
the West of England which, I think, I may really describe as a fairly
typical Board in a country district. The district appears fairly
similar to that in which Miss Sellers's workhouse is situated ; the house
is about the same size as hers, though of late years the number of our
indoor paupers has considerably decreased. Our children attend
the village school, but they live at the workhouse, and not, as in Miss
Sellers's case, in a separate institution. Li one part of our area theie
is a fairly numerous mining population; we have three very small
towns, and the rest of the union is entirely agricultural.
Our population is 23,661 ; our area, 41,526 acres ; our assessable
value, 95,763Z. The average number for the last year every night
in the house was 157, including about forty children. The average
number of vagrants for every night throughout the year was twenty.
I propose to compare the expenditure of our Board with Miss
Sellers's, for I think that, in consequence of the pubUcity given to her
views, most unwarrantable prejudices are likely to be raised against
those throughout the coimtry who devote, ungrudgingly, much time
and care to the local administration of the'Poor Law.
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1905 ANOTHER BOARD OF GUARDIANS 976
I do not think I need enter into those of Miss Sellers's figures
which deal with pauper lunatics ; the cost of their maintenance is in
no way under the control of the guardians, except in so far as they
may bring pressure to bear upon the Asylum authorities. Neither
do I propose to discuss the figures given with reference to out-relief,
or Miss Sellers's somewhat remarkable observations upon that most
interesting and important subject. I would only suggest the pos-
sibility of a doubt whether Miss Sellers's knowledge really justifies
her pride in that knowledge. The figures I wish to deal with — ^figures
she would have us believe as more or less applicable to every work-
house in the country — are the figures relating to indoor relief and the
general administration of the workhouse.
Let me first deal with the vagrants, of whom over 7,300 passed
through our tramp wards last year, representing an average of twenty
for every night. These wards were built entirely new about two
years ago, and the annual charge for interest, repayment of principal,
and upkeep comes to about 1602. a year. The vagrants' food last
year cost 401. 188. ; they are looked after by the porter, assisted by
a male and female inmate, so their superintendence may cost, say,
lOl. a year ; the fuel for heating, drying, and washing purposes costs
about 401. a year, so we get a total expenditure for the 7,300 vagrants
of 2502. 18«., being about 6d. for each night's food and lodging, or
121. 11«. per annum for each of the twenty vagrants maintained
nightly. Miss Sellers says that her vagrants are just ' supplied with
food from the paupers' kitchen,' and for this 'no separate account
is kept.' One would imagine that Miss Sellers had never heard of
a Government auditor, if it were not that she tells us she knows all
about guardians and their ways ; and that she enters ' audit fee, 301.'
as being, apparently, one of the extravagant luxuries in which her
guardians indulge. But she says that in her workhouse they maintain,
nightly, twenty-seven tramps at a total cost of 6932. 18s.^ which is
equivalent to a cost per annum of 261. 148. for each of the twenty-seven.
So that the expenditure on Miss Sellers's vagrants exceeds that on ours
by nearly 100 per cent., and this although ours includes a high charge
for the new tramp wtois which the orders of the Local Government
Board compelled us to build.
Miss Sellers takes exception to an outlay of 2002. on one expensive
machine for the laundry. Far be it from me to say that such an
outlay was justifiable ; but I think Miss Sellers's knowledge of the
work in a workhouse laundry must be somewhat elementary. She
speaks, in her article, of the workhouse linen in a scornful way, as
the paupers' * bits of things.' She is very pleased with her phrase :
she uses it many times, but it might surprise her to know that in our
workhouse (not so large as hers) the paupers' ' bits of things ' total
up on an average to 1,240 a week, varying in size from sheets and
tablecloths to the many small articles which find their way into every
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976
THE NINETEENTH CENTURY
Dec.
wash-tub. Miss Sellers tells us that in her laundry the wages cost
SON. a year, and that the fuel costs 3411., and that hers is a * typical '
union ! In ours, the wages bill is covered by the superintendence of
the matron, and the occasional assistance of a charwoman, costing,
say, 201. a year, and the fuel bill for the whole workhouse for every
purpose— cooking, laundry, fires, heating tramp wards, &c. — ^amounts
to 2771. a year. (Thecost per ton of coal in both unions appears to be
about the same.) It is impossible to say exactly how much of this
outlay on coal should be debited to the laimdry, as our system of wat»
heating deals with the whole house and laundry, and partly with the
cooking, but I shall not be far wrong if I ascribe 752. per annum as the
laundry consumption. Miss SeUers's guardians spent, she tells us,
3,8191. in ' patching up ' the laundry during three years. We ourselves,
pace Miss Sell^, recogmse that a workhouse laundry requires some-
what constant attention, and we have spent upon ours in repairs and
partial reconstruction during the last three years some 5001. ; more-
over, we have been guilty of the extravagance of replacing this year,
at a cost of about 201., a washing machine that had done duty for
some fifteen years.
Summarising and comparing the laundry expenditure in the two
workhouses, we get the following :
-
lCi88 8eaen*BWorkboTiM
My Workhouse
Fuel
Wages
Total working expenses
Adding average cost of 'patching
up ' for the last three years .
Total
841 0 0 76 0 0
800 0 0 1 20 0 0
641 0 0
1,271 0 0
95 0 0
166 0 0
£1,912 0 0
£261 0 0
Now as regards Miss Sellers's account of the cost of in-maintenance.
There are, she says, 174 paupers in the house, and at different
parts of her article she gives the average cost of these, in one place
as 582. a head, in another place 502., in another 431. 7s, 6d., and the
cost of the children in a separate estabUshment at 501, 10s. a head.
How the 591. is arrived at is impossible to follow ; the 501. is fixed by
adding some problematical amount to the 432. 7s. 6(1., but this 431. 7s. 6i,
appears to be the bed-rock cost of each of the 174 paupers for * food,
clothing, necessaries, drugs, establishment charges, housing and
surveillance.' At any rate this is Miss Sellers's loioest figure, and she
says that the 48 children cost 501. 10s. a head, a total, however, which
I work out to 512. lis. lid., following, as far as I possibly can. Miss
Sellers's own calculations.
Now in my workhouse the whole of the inmates, including our
children, but apart from the vagrants, cost 151. 8^. 5d. a head per
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1905
ANOTHEB BOABD OF GUABDIAN8
977
annum, taking into account the whole of the items which in Miss
Sellers's case produce an average respectively of 431. Is. 6d. and
501. 10«. It is evident therefore that if , as I believe, my workhouse
is a fairly typical one, there is something radically and abnormally
wrong with the one described by Miss Sellers.
But the chief indictment in Miss Sellers's article is with reference
to the number of officials and the outlay that they entail. I cannot
do better than place in two columns of a table the offidals in her
workhouse and those in our own. I do not include the rate collectors,
relieving officers, and district medical officers ; the conditions of
their employment are dependent upon the area of the union and the
population; but the officials directly connected with the workhouse
would seem to be as follows :
Miss Sellers's Workhouse :
Master
Matron
Master's Clerk
Porter
8 Nurses
Cook
Female Attendants
Laundress
Tramp Master
Tramp Mistress
Labour Master
Shoemaker
Engineer
Carpenter
Stoker
Handy man _
4
s
9
02
Children's Officers
1 Master.
1 Matron
1 Nurse •
1 Cook .
2 Assistants
1 Attendant
1 Doctor .
Total .
Total Salaries
Bations
Doctor .
Chaplain .
Organist .
Dentist .
Stocktaker
Lawyer .
Clerk to Guardians
Assistant Clerk
and
€2,286 0
125 0
100 0
?
?
?
200 0
275 0
120 0
£1,489 0 0
797 0 0
Total . . £8,106 0 0
Vol. LVin— No. 346
Workhouse :
£
s.
d.
Master .
62
0
0
Matron .
88
0
0
Lidustrial Trainer
. 26
0
0
Porter
. 20
0
0
Nurse
. 26
0
0
Assistant Nurse
25
0
0
Bations, &o.
. 160
0
0
Total Salaries and Ba-
tions .... £847 0 0
Doctor . . . 40 0 0
Chaplain . . . 40 0 0
Clerk . . . 170 0 0
Total
£597 0
8s
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978 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Deo.
If lliis Sellen's aocotmt is only Mmotely conect, her charge k
proved to the hilt as regards her own particular workhouse, and
I have no right whatever to question the accuracy of her statement
She certainly deals with figures in a somewhat reckless way, and
we know that nothing can be so misleading as figures, except facts ;
but if there is really a workhouse of anything Uke the sixe of the
one Miss Sellers describes, with a staff of offidais such as she detaik,
I am quite willing to join with her heartily in her denunciation of the
particular body of guardians who are directiy responsible for sudi
scandalous waste of puUic money. But I do most emphatically
assert that such a workhouse cannot possibly be described as a ^ typical '
workhouse. I know my own workhouse well, I know sometiiing,
more or less, of all the workhouses in my County, and I can safely
say that the workhouse I have described is quite typical, as regards
expenditure, of all the country workhouses within a considerable
radius of where I reside. The town workhouses within that radius
are somewhat more extravagant, the reasons for which are some of
them sufficient, some not quite obvious. Miss Sellers's sweeping
assertions are calculated to bring so much undeserved reproach upon
guardians in general, that I can only most eamestiy beg those who
have read her article to at least withhold their judgment, until they
have themselves tested the accuracy of assertions which, I think, are
as unjustifiable as they are sweeping.
Miss Sellers's ramarks about the workhouse children are equally
sweeping, and if they cannot be said to be equally unjustifiable they
are at least exaggerated and tinged with prejudice. She forgets
that the great majority of children in a workhouse are bom from
parents who, for some reason or another, are thoroughly d^enerate
representatives of their class, whatever that class may be. Most
of them too, after starting life with this blood disadvantage, have
been half-starved and thoroughly neglected before they come to tiie
house, and it is not fair to blame the workhouse for the fact that
many of them turn out badly. It is impossible to expect that all
will turn out well ; more would do so if people in their neighbour-
hood would really interest themselves in them, instead of labelling
them, as Miss Sellers does, as * belonging to the pariah class.' Of
the children who pass through our workhouse quite a large proportion
become entirely satisfactory members of sodety, and I know of
several who are doing extremely well.
Miss Sellers writes, with all the bitterness of prejudice, against the
workhouse system generally. I venture to think that this feeling,
prevalent though it is, is much to be deplored. As things are, and
as things will be till the world has become regenerated, a workhouse,
in some form or other, is an unavoidable necessity, and that not
only for the so-called undeserving poor, but for many of the deserving
also. A large proportion of the latter could not possibly be treated
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1906 ANOTHER BOABD OF OUABDIANS 979
outside an institation of some kind ; and people would do far more
good by personal endeavours to brighten the lot of those within the
house, than by fostering what is often an unreasonable prejudice
against it. I say unreasonable because, though I know of course the
prejudice exists, I know also that many of the aged and infirm who
come into the house are glad that they have done so. The deserving
poor who are found within the walls of our workhouses merit all our
sympathy, and our best efforts to secure for them comparative happi-
ness. And I by no means wish to limit the term * deserving* to
those only who have led from childhood meritorious lives. Is there
to be no locus posnUenticB in our narrow creed for those who have
paid a bitter penalty for the sins and foUies of their youth, and who
recognise those sins and follies and regret them when too late ? I
would treat with every possible consideration all those inmates who,
no matter what their past, are leading quiet and respectable lives ;
but I should like to keep apart from these inmates those others whose
conduct, manners, or habits are such as to cause annoyance or to
merit the disapprobation of any respectable people.
One word more. I am Chairman of my County Educaticm Com-
mittee, and I should very much like to know how, under existing
circumstances, the children in Miss Sellers's workhouse attend a
* District Board School ' and yet that 21. 12«. 9d. a head is paid for
them. To whom is the money paid, and how does the Local Oovem-
ment Board auditor pass the item in the workhouse accounts ? It
would perhaps be hypercritical to observe that 'Board' schools
no longer exist, but is it possible that this whole statement may be
a gauge of the accuracy of many other statements in Miss Sellers's
very remarkable article ?
M. W. Colohbstbr-Wbmtss. '
3 82
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980 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Dec
FJiOM DAWN TO DARK ON THE HIGH
ZAMBESI
* Plosh ' — all the paddles go in as one, and again as one are polled
through and out — ' pomp ' — sucking the bubbles up. * Plosh, pomp '
— ^the dug-outs are coming across the river, the swaying forms of
the paddling Kafirs dimly visible in the half light. One in the bows,
five aft, left foot forwards they stand, dropping in the paddles, now
on this side, now on that, each canoe keeping time with the other.
* Plosh, pomp — plosh, pomp,' five canoes and thirty paddles with the
rhythmic pulse of a single paddle.
Axe-hoUowed out of a clean-run hard-wood tree, twenty to forty
feet long, straight-sided, flat-bottomed ; on these waters no other boat
would do its work better, if so well
Each dug-out takes but one passenger, who sits on a grass mat,
leaning back against his kit. He may go, if he will, as a high Induna
goes, under an awning of reed arched against the sun, but in September
and October this is scarcely safe ; it is wiser to risk the sun and be free
to fall clear of the craft. For the hippo cows are calving tiien, the
animals are wicked, and, especially at night, attack the boats, and
there is danger of being caught in the awning when the boat upsets.
Ordinarily the Kafirs refuse to venture on the river after dusk,
but to-day they will certainly be paddling then, because they are
under compulsion to complete a two days' voyage in one. It has
pleased their chief to lay them under these commands because a white
man is urgently called down country and must reach a certain trading
station by to-night. Their chief has also made this white man a high
Induna, distinguished by a pair of the royal ivory armlets which shall
ensure him consideration by the way. But of these matters more
presently, for we wiU not delay the start.
So in the false dawn we load the dug-outs, dividing up the things.
In mine, the leading boat, are clothes-bag, blankets, gun, rifle and
a few useful odds and ends, such as pipe and water-bottle, lying handy
at one's side. The other boats are stored with the boys' food and
blankets, beer-gourd, cooking-pots and assegais. Well before the
sun has shown his upper rim the word is given, and we move off in
single order and away down stream.
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1906 DAWN TO DARK ON TEE HIGH ZAMBESI 981
The Kafirs are silent. The Kafir, a child of the sun, is at his worst
in the chill of the dawning, is spiritless and dull, though the dug-outs
move rapidly enough under the driving of those sinewy arms and
backs. The splendid savage in front of me is a final study in move-
ment and form, and as the sun looks over the fringe of the reed-beds
it touches back and shoulder into polished bronze in a subject fit for
Phidias.
Level, treeless, reed-fringed banks, on the right of sand, on the
left of clay, and a half-mile perhaps of width of water : this is the
Zambesi here. There is little that is tropical, as that word is
commonly meant. The Zambesi of one's childhood, parasites of
gorgeous flower, ropes of climbers running from tree to tree, flocks
of jewelled birds, troops of monkejB that peep and chatter and swing
from bough to bough — the greater part, in short, of everything meant
by the magic word * tropical* is wanting here. All that is below
us, far, far below, down in the fever belt that runs by the sea. It is
true that round the mighty Victoria Falls where the rocky islands
are and the mist hangs night and day, there is some wealth of tropic
tangle, but even that is down the river some hundred miles away.
We shall see palms and trees before nightfall in patches by the
rapids, but it is only in those places where the rock comes up that
timber flourishes. Here the Zambesi feels its way through the high
alluvial plain, the treeless fringe of that same plateau where Oswell
did his wonderful hunting half a century and more ago. And as the
Zambesi is here, so is it almost to its source ; trees where the rocks
and rapids are, bare where they are not. In the rainy season these
plains are greatly under water, in the dry season they are swept by
fires, and sun-baked to a hard pan — ^neither a condition suitable for
trees. For a convincing simile we may say this : take the Ouse or
some wiUowless Fen river, change water-rats to hippos, goss to giant
reeds, make the newts of your back-waters into crocodiles, and there
is the High Zambesi.
In the great reed-beds the hippos sleep, in some places numbers
of them, though I have never had the luck to come upon one sleeping,
often as I have tried. In every direction are roads made by the
creatures as they come down to the water. If you land and walk
up one of these hippo roads you will be following at first a track
across and up the sloping sand ; then, where the slope meets the vertical
edge of the high river-bank, the ground is all poached into deep holes
by the huge feet where the animal has raised his immense bulk for the
climb. Also, where the banks lie at a convenient angle, you often see
hippo sUdes. Here the creatures have evidently sat down on their
tail-ends till the edge of the bank has given way, and they have slid
down into the water. Often, by constant passing, a cutting has
been made through the edge of the bank which brings you easily on
to the flat above. From this point a well-marked road, or tunnel.
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98S THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Dec.
goet off into the reeds, which Bometimes form an archway overfaeacL
On eitiier tide of the tonnel the reeds, strong as bamboo, pressed bade
and matted together, form an impenetrable wall, though h^e and there
along the wall are spaces into which a man may push. I used to look
out carefully for these spaces and pass as quickly as possible from
one to thi^ other, waiting a moment or two at each, a wise pre-
caution, for a startled hippo makes at once for the water. Crashing
headlong down his tunnel, without any ' by your leave,' he would
treat you like a beeUe under the housemaid's foot. One must there-
fore keep a careful eye on one's refuges. So, creeping cautiously
along, at last you come to the threshold of the hippo's boudoir or bed-
room, as the case may be. It is empty, and, to speak frankly, it is
a relief to be able to admire it in the noble owner's absence. A friend
lately described to me a hippo's ^ nest ' which he visited on a tzibatary
stream. He told how its floor was deep in grasses, gathered by tiie
hippos, and the reeds surrounding it distinctly 'woven' togetiier.
Without the good fortune to come upon one of these, I have only
seen the ordinary sleeping-places. They have always been alike
in an outer ring of broken reeds and softer tops of the reed-heads,
and in the middle of the earth itself the impression of huge bodies,
like a hare's form in a weedy fallow. These sleeping-places are quite
distinct from the mud-baths ; those you often find up small ditches
and back-waters quite far from the river ; the wart-hogs share them
with the hippos.
But now, with the coming of the sunlight, the life of the river
begins to move. With beat of whirring wings flock after flock of
sand-grouse come in to drink. Seeing the canoes, they will not light
at first, but fly round and round over the sand-banks, now lower,
now higher, in the way that wild ducks and tame pigeons will. Oain-
ing confidence, they presently settle on the sloping sand-bank, run
down to the water's edge, quickly drink, and are off again. And
presently a curious thing happens. On labouring wings a large bird
comes out of the sun, and when a short distance from the river sets
its wings, and, floating nobly over the reeds, drops its long thin 1^
and settles in a shallow, the water all but up to its body. It is a
Goliath Heron. It has scarcely taken up its position before a second
bird comes on the scene, the Fish Eagle. Heading straight for the
heron it stoops, and, striking it fair on the head, knocks it down on to
the water, where it remains with outstretched wings, half stunned.
Recovering, it again stands upright, while I rouse my boys to paddle
all they can in order to pick it up. We are stUl some ten yards distant
when again the eagle, who has circled round, stoops at the heron
and knocks it over, almost under the bows of the canoe. In the same
movement the bird of prey sheers off. I pidl the heron into the boat.
This heron, by far the largest member of its family, is a very noble
bird. ^Nowhere common, you will probably not see more than one
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1906 DAWN TO DARK ON THE HIGH ZAMBESI 988
or two any day on the Upper Zambesi. As I hold it by the beak
at the level of my faoe its toes touch the ground.
The Fish Eagle does not prey on herons ; why, then, this attack ?
I think the eagle, not knowing that the heron had only just arrived,
concluded ihat its crop was full of fish, which it might be induced to
surrender ; it meant to make it ' stand and deliver,' only the poor
heron, having taken nothing, had nothing to deliver.
This eagle is in appearance a truly striking bird. Its head,
breast, and mantle are shining black, its back white, its shoulders
coppery-brown. In the wooded districts, where, after the wont of
birds of prey, it sits on the vantage point of the dead limb of a large
tree, sailing off now and again with tireless flight above the broad
river waters, it is the very genius of its h(Hne. But here, in the tree-
less country, where it needs must sit on the sand or on the mud of
the river-bank, it seems out of place, reduced almost to the grade
of a 'longshore crow. In this part of the Zambesi they are extremely
common ; you see pairs, and sometimes three and four together, all
along.
Three days ago I had killed a large crocodile some quarter of a
mile above the point we have now reached. Shot in the head as he
lay on the top of the water, he had turned over on his back, with his
feet in the air, and had gone like a log to the bottom. After a few
hours he would have come to the top, afloat. So far as I know, the
dead body of any creature will behave thus, excepting that of a seal.
I, however, had not time to wait.
Perhaps this saurian has drifted on to this sand-bank below,
and brought the vultures there. At any rate there they are, thirty
or forty, feeding on something I cannot see. As the dug-out nears
them they draw off a little from the feast — two kinds of vulture,
the larger one, Rilppell's, with a * boa ' on the neck ; and a smaller,
blacker bird, with a pink, bare head like a hen turkey's, the Hooded
Vulture. On a nearer approach they all rise heavily, the fullest
gorged very reluctant to move, and fly to the flat beyond, where they
will settle and wait. Hooded Vultures, because of their black colour,
may sometimes be seen from a great distance as they sit on the trees
in pairs. Much as has been written and said about the congregation
of vultures, the phenomenon of their appearing never loses for me its
surprise. Lying on your back, you search the fathomless blue sky.
Be your sight never so clear, your glasses never so powerful, you will
fail nine times out of ten to find a single vulture in all that wide
expanse. Half an hour after, looking over the flats, you may see
two birds drop down on to some object lying in the hollow just out
of sight, and a moment later two more. Then another pair, and
another, and, in an incredibly short space of time, behold vultures
from all sides converging on that point. And now, if you look up
again, you will find this true, that, though you may watch the bird
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984 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Dec
that paases by and disappears, and keep it in your range of vision
nntil it is lost, a needle-point, in the infinite distanoe, you cannot in
the same way pick up a distant bird. On the contrary, each bird
comes into sight quite suddenly, unexpectedly, and large ; you become
aware that it is there, yet you have not seen it on the way.
But half the day is over and gone, and my boys have been paddling
since early morning without a break. All through the morning —
and lately with the thermometer at lOCf F. in the shade — ^the paddles
have gone beating ' plosh pomp, plosh pomp,' and at intervals, ^ splash,
splash, splash, splash,' as one of the boys behind works with an old
tin at baling out the boat. For we had not been gone long this morn-
ing when my steersman in the prow laid aside his paddle and, stooping
down, busied himself with a crack through which the water was
merrily coming in. For some time I watched him doing his best to
stop the leak by pushing in pieces of grass with the edge of an old
tin. Meantime I had been pulling to pieces a bit of thick string,
and presently gratified him with quite a respectable handful of oakum,
with which, and the help of the picker of my knife, he had made a
tolerable stopping ; but the water found its way through again, and
for a long while now we had often had to bale.
Now it is time for a rest, so we punt the boats into a litde creek
between the sand-banks and I tell the boys to bathe.
There is a little hollowed path running up from the water on to
the flats above. In the season of rains a water ditch, it is now a
track by which wild creatures come down to drink. At its deepest,
no more than two feet deep, it grows less and less, till some quarter
of a mile away it flattens to the general level of the ground.
Up this track but a few days back I crept, camera in hand, with
two black boys behind me, intent upon photographing animals when
they should draw together towards the path for water. Before our
crawl began I had a good look over the plain with my glasses. One
might almost have thought the plain dotted with feeding cattle,
but the glass showed groups and herds of several difierent beasts.
Blue wildebeest, some forty in number, formed a group at the head of
my path, a few hartebeest made a red patch a litUe further off, a herd
of roan antelope stood by themselves away to the left, reed-buck
in twos and threes were dotted all about, and a lot of zebras fed
steadily in my direction, but a little on the right.
At first it was easy to keep out of sight, crawling on hands and
knees, though it was a rather painful crawling, because a fire had
passed over that ground not long before, and all among the new
green shoots which had brought the various animals together were the
hard points of burnt rushes. These and many snail-shells chafed
hands and knees.
Soon it became necessary to crouch lower and lower, and presentiy
to lie absolutely flat, worming oneself along by toes and elbows. I
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1906 DAWN TO DABE ON THE HIGH ZAMBESI 986
glanced back under my arm at the two boys; they were exactly
imitating my every movement. The light wind blew directly in
our faces, so as far as scent went we were safe.
It is probably true to say that most wild animals trust more to
smell than to sight ; indeed some — ^the elephant and rhinoceros for
example — ^rely almost entirely on it for theiif safety. No doubt this
is chiefly true of forest animals ; a mountain sheep or a buck of the
plains of course has wonderful powers of vision, but only a distinct
or a sudden movement arrests it. The ways of Nature's hunters show
us this. When the seal is lying on the ice-floe with its head over the
edge, in the way that seals have, sometimes along the still, green,
polar pool there creeps a little wave and wakes it up. It looks over
the water, but only sees a white lump floating motionless, which it
takes to be a piece detached from the base of the floe and risen to the
surface, so it nods its head again and is presently asleep. But in
that white lump are set the watching eyes of the ice-bear ; and the
white lump sinks ever so noiselessly, to rise as cautiously again and
again, but nearer and nearer to the seal, who each time wakes and
each time goes to sleep again. But the last dive brings the hunter
underneath his quarry, and one blow finishes the drama, for an ice-
bear is very heavy-hajided.
And in the same way, could you but move slowly enough, you
could, with the wind right, get quite close to most big game. More-
over, antelopes are inquisitive animals, and just as I have had wild
reindeer come round me inquiringly when sketching in Spitsbergen,
so antelopes wiU sometimes come up to investigate a new object,
provided it does not make alarming movements.
But we are forgetting the story we began to tell. It was time
to find out exactly where the creatures were, for they were moving
when last seen. When animals are feeding they are usually shifty
and difficult to approach. But now, in the middle of the day, with
the sun at its hottest, it was probable the herds would be settling
down. This proved to be the case. Slowly, very slowly, hair's-
breadth by hair's-breadth, I raised myself upon my elbows until I
could just get my eyes above the level and peer through the stalks
of the grasses. Some of the groups were lying down, some still stand-
ing, or moving slowly, step by step ; but all had the sleepy, contented
look of animals that have fed. Nearest of all, and straight before me,
about one hundred paces off, was a single wildebeest, lying by good
chance partly covered by a tuft of dead grasses. I began to hope
I might reduce the distance and photograph that beast. I had just
sunk down flat again, when one of the black boys touched me on the
ankle. Qlancing up, without moving my head, I saw, for one instant,
two Crowned Cranes, most lovely of birds, standing side by side and
looking down critically at me. The next moment, with a startled call,
they were on the wing. Expecting to hear the sound of thundering
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986 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Dec
hoofii, I kty still as any stone; but the minutes pmssed, and,
hearing nothing, I yentured again to look. The wildebeest had not
moved, but out of the comer of my eye I could see, on my right,
the zebras all faced round and staring intently towards us. I lay
still for perhaps another ten minutes, making the black boys stay
back, and then again wormed along like a snake. Finally the distance
was reduced by some thirty yards, which brought me up with head
and shoulders covered by the lump of reeds that marked the end of
the depression.
The wildebeest was still lying down. I slid out the bellows of the
camera, fooussed and touched the spring ; a photograph was tak^i.
But the dick of the shutter, slight as it was, had disturbed the animal,
who rose, stretched himself, and was photographed again. Then he
saw us, wheeled round, and joined the others. Off galloped the whole
herd, performing the extraordinary antics practised by their kind ;
the roan antelopes and the xebras followed suit, the plain was scoured
by fugitive feet, and a minute later little remained but a few dots in
the middle distance and a dark waving line beyond. Only some
reed-buck stayed here and there, judging they were safe.
Five lions were in attendance on this particular herd of zebras ;
but that belongs to another day, and not to this nor to our riv»
voyage.
We left the boys about to bathe ; they needed no incentive, for
Kafirs delight to get into the water in the hottest time of the day.
Bushing into the river all together, they keep up a continual splashing
to frighten away the crocodiles. In the water they always gtoom
one another's backs, and on coming out scrape themselves with the
strigil carried by each. Dressing and undressing are quickly done
by a Kafir, and in ten minutes we were off again.
The High Zambesi is full of crocodiles ; in some of the back-waters
they literally swarm. They vary in size from littie things like large
lizajds to monsters over twelve feet in length. Even where the banks
are of clay and nearly perpendicular they seem to have little difficulty
in landing, and by constant walking to and fro score the bank into
ledges and terraces. They also scratch out, or work out by other
means, hollows in the clay which they constantiy occupy when sunning
themselves or sleeping. Sometimes they go to sleep, floating on the
surface, just as our pike will on a summer day ; and then, like the
pike, remain unconscious of your presence until a sudden movement
wakes them up, when they disappear with a prodigious disturbance.
But this is not often ; ordinarily they are very wide awake and vanish
silentiy, sinking with scarcely a circle made. But the shallows and
sand-banks are their favourite resort, and there they are always
watchful. Often you can see them far ahead, tails to the water, heads
up the flat sand-bank, looking like beached canoes, and sometimes they
lie across one another like stumps of drifted trees. But long befcm
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1906 DAWN TO DABE ON THE HIGH ZAMBESI 987
the canoes come up they take warning from the paddles and, turning
on the fulcrum of their taUs, glide into the water. More than once,
when having luncheon by the water's edge, I have suddenly become
aware of the cruel head and the lustreless glazed eyes looking up at
me from below. It really * gave one quite a turn.' I instinctively
jumped back, for the crocodile is credited, and probably on good
grounds, with the practice of knocking its prey into the water with
a sudden sweep of its heavy tail. As many as sixty eggs are laid by
a crocodile in its nest in the sand-bank. Beside me as I write is an
egg from a nest containing that number. It is rather larger than a
goose's egg, but elliptical in shape^ with a white and very brittle shell.
We are told (but the statement requires confirmation) that, when
the little crocodiles begin to squeak in the shell, the mother digs up
the eggs and, as the young escape, leads them down to the water.
' Shangwe ! ' (Chief) calls out my steersman as a dug-out approaches,
coming up the stream ; whereupon the paddlers stop their paddling
and, squatting down in the boaj}, clap their hands ; their usual form
of salutation to an official or a chief ; and presently catching sight of
the ivory armlets they hold thdir arms aloft and return ' Shangwe ! '
The armlets (ribbed round the centre, the distinctive sign of royalty)
had been kindly given me by litia, son of Lewanika, King of Marotse.
They acted indeed as a talisman that day. When we came to a
waterside kraal where the Batoka piccaninnies ran in and out of holes
in the grass screens like rabbits, milk was instantly brought and Kafir
beer, and the women were set to scrape a bit of ground for me to sit
on, but no undue delay allowed — and this through the royal armlets.
This letter grows too long. But for that I should be telling more
about the birds ; birds that walked the sand-banks — ^Black, White,
Open-billed and Marabou Storks ; Sacred and Glossy Ibises ; Wattled,
Blacksmith and Crowned Plovers ; birds that waded in the shallows —
the quaint Hadadah and quainter Hammerkop, and all the family of
the herons. For, beside the Goliath already described, there were
the Great White Heron, the Purple and the Squacco Herons, as well as
the beautiful Little Egret. In the shallows also we saw the elegant
Jacana, whose toes are so long tiiat it can walk the water over the
thinnest water-weeds ; Stilts also, and Avocets, graceful pied birds
whose long, slender biUs curve upwards. About the reeds were many
small Bitterns, who tightened up their feathers and gazed into the sky
with straight thin necks till they looked like stalks or bits of stick.
And every now and then there flashed across the water a flaming
streak — ^the Crimson Bee-eater. Egyptian and Spur- winged geese and
African Pochards swam in the water or fed along the water-mark,
while the larger Pied Bangfisher hung poised above the river or dropped
like an arrow on the fish. Perhaps the least expected bird was a
seagull — the Grey-headed Gull— of which many were seen throughout
the day. Terns were numerous, especially the Whiskered Tern, easily
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distingiiiBhed on the wing by its smoky colour. But of all f^e birds
seen none were odder than the Soissor-bill. These birds are rivw
terns, and, like other terns, lay their eggs on the sand-banks. They
are coloured grey, black, and white. But the strange point about
them is this, that their orange-scarlet bills have tiie upper mandible
a great deal shorter than the lower or maTilla. The beak is also
flattened from side to side, and what the birds feed on is not properly
known as yet.
The hippos are causing us some concern. Every now and then
one hears a noise like steam blowing off in a railway station, and there
is a hippo looking angrily at our boat. The head of the beast usually
lies pretty flat on the water, only the nostrils and eyes above it. A
good way off at first, by constant diving he reduces the distance, and
at last, when perhaps some fifty yards away, he raises his head and
shoulders, and looks like a frightful mask in some infernal pantomime.
(However kind a hippo may be feeling, he always looks irate.) He
seems to be reckoning to a nicety the distance for his final rush. He
dives and you go through the suspense of the interval — will he or will
he not attack ? To your reUef he rises a little further off ; his better
nature has prevailed.
How long can a hippo remain under water ! It is difficult to judge
unless you have them in a quiet pool I have timed him one, two,
three minutes — ^five minutes. But at least he can remain below as
long as Mr. Finney, and often inexplicably disappears altogether.
There is not always danger from these gigantic brutes ; during
ten months of the year, although individuals may now and then
indulge in a little light play, they are fairly quiet. But now, like
many other animals, they are savage in defence of their newly-born
yoimg. They do not attack human beings; when once they have
tumbled you into the water they trouble themselves no further (nor
have they any occasion to do so — ^the crocodiles see to the rest). It is
the boat that irritates them : doubtless they conceive it to be some
river monster invading their dominions.
For their better safety the paddlers of the dug-outs keep, as &ir as
may be, close to the banks. But sometimes, pushed out by shallows,
they are obliged to cross the windings from point to point. With a
river about as wide as the Thames at London Bridge this takes a Uttie
time, and once our crossing was attended by an amusing, if alarming,
incident. I was immersed in my diary, when I was startled by the shock
of a sudden noise, which I can only compare to a slice out of the roar
of a cataract. There, close to us, was a hippo ! He looked at us for a
moment, and then opened his mouth to its very widest extent, as Mr.
Rowland Ward's heads do in Piccadilly. I was staring into a red
cavern. The beast was so close that it flashed through my mind that
I could easily throw in a bun. Perhaps he was waiting for one, or else
was only making faces to exercise his facial muscles. If he simply
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meant to frighten na he certainly succeeded. I could not see how the
five boys behind me fared, but the tall steersman gave the dug-out
such a lurch with his paddle that he nearly toppled out of the boat,
which was narrow in the bows, swayed violently from side to side, and
then fell backwards into the bottom of the boat. Tou may be sure
we watched the hippo very anxiously as he dived, and thankfully saw
him — he was so close — ^tum below the water and disappear. Even
at this critical moment, and scared as they were, the Kafirs' sense of
the ridiculous stood by them ; no sooner was their enemy gone than
they roared with laughter and for a long time chaffed the poor
steersman, though I could not follow their tongue.
Now I must describe a pretty incident, and then, I think, we have
done with the hippopotamus. I am keeping a sharp look-out for
birds down the river, when I see something coming up which at first
I take for men in a canoe. The Kafirs also see it and whisper ^ Lovo '
(hippopotamus). It is. It is a tiny hippo apparently gliding along
on the surface of the river ; and in front of it is the black face of an
old one. The puzzle is soon explained : a baby hippo is being carried
by its mother; it is standing on her back. It comes along quite
steadily, looking like some quaint little figure of a god. When still a
hundred yards away it disappears, but I cannot see the manner of its
going. Probably the old hippos carry their young in this way to keep
them safe &om the crocodiles.
The evening sun is going down, but still the paddles hold steadily
on ' Plosh, pomp,' and the tin keeps at work mtii the baling.
It is no difficult task to describe wild animals and their ways, but
to draw a really convincing picture of a bit of scenery is usually beyond
the power of words ; and I wish I could do that now. For about the
time of the evening light we leave the plains and the level banks, and,
rounding a comer, are face to face with a transformation intangibly
enchanting. The river lies like glass, peach-pink all round the boats.
Before us are islands ; a large one in the middle of the stream, with
others right and left. But by some trick of light and air they seem
built up one behind the other, till the water-lanes among them look
like raised and limpid terraces. The islands are fringed with soft-
headed papjnrus, and you cannot determine where exactly the fringe
begins because of the reflections which go down into the water and
make of island and image one translucent haze of green and opal
lights. Piled up beyond this is the blue mass of the thorny forest,
here and there the dark arms of some great acacia held clear-cut
' against the glowing sky. And the isles are crowned with palm-trees.
Bitterns begin booming in the reeds. Emerald-spotted Doves come
down to drink, and a Marsh Owl floats noiselessly overhead. The
evening spell falls even on the Kafirs, who cease their laughing chatter,
and nothing is heard but wings and voices of birds and the paddles'
measured beat. So we move on; winding about the islands and along
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the coloured wmter-lanes till tiie cmrent begins to draw more qniddy,
a growing murmur takes definite form and we hear the noise of rapids.
Darkness falls very qniokly here, and tiie light is already uncertain
when we come in sight of the rocks and the white lines of broken water.
It is the dry season, the Zambesi is very low tiiis year, and tiie rocks
look ugly enough. For a few minutes, while the steersmen consult as
to the best channel to choose, the dug-outs are held back by paddles
pressed against the river-bed, and then we are in the current. Bump,
scrape, we are knocked about by the rocks, in spite of the paddles
that try to fend them off. By daylight it would be easier, but now
we cannot properly see, and presently my dug-out sUdes on to the
top of a smooth, hidden rock, and remains jammed fast by the middle.
No poling or punting will move it one indi ; we have to get into the
water before the dug-out can be made to move. This rapid is a long
one, and before we clear it the Kafirs are several times in the water,
and all the time a pair of large otters keep playing about the rocks,
quite indifferent to our presence.
At the next we have a worse experience. After a long and trying
series of scrapes and rushes we enter a wider, deeper, and smoother
channel, and are just steadying to shoot the last low waterfall into
the pool below when a rock, invisible till then, appears right in the
middle of the falL I see it, reflect with relief that my boots are not
on my feet but tied to the sides of the boat, think of crocodiles, and
instinctively try to puzzle out through the gloom the nature ci the
nearest landing-place — all this in a flash of the mind — ^when the
steersman shouts, the men behind him answer, the boat is stopped,
and, calling all together, they absolutely work the dug-out back agsin
against the current — very slowly, half -inch by half -inch, but it is done.
After a long and desperate battle with the stream we are again almost
at the head of the rapid, find another channel, and sometimes wading,
sometimes in ike boat, at last we reach another and safer water-shoot
and are floating in the pool below. They are most wonderful fellows,
these Kafirs ; it was almost a superhuman effort, for the sucking
force of the water was prodigious, and the strain in holding back
tiie dug-out with so insecure a foothold immense. The othw boats
have come by other channels, but we are all lying safely there at last,
and the boys rest for a few minutes and compare experiences. It is
quitedark as we move off again, with still six miles to go. No light
is in the sky, not a glimmer on the water. The boys, in deadly fear
of hippos, keep closely to the reeds. But even this is not without its
alarms, for the great reed fringe is the roosting-place of many birds,
and particularly of guinea-fowl, who come down there at night for
safety from foxes and jackals ; and as we go brushing along the reeds,
suddenly, with screams and rattle of wings, out bursts, almost in our
faces, a large party of these birds, enough to scare the stoutest heart
when nerves are all at tension.
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Then the fireflies come out, not the Uttle dancing lights familiar
in America, but lambent stars that travel straight and steadily,
shining and not shining with perfect regularity, like the revolving
flame of a distant lighthouse. Then the Kafirs, to keep up their
courage, sing from boat to boat songs with theme and chorus. And
then a great red light breaks up into the sky and a forest fire is
raging.
This final spell of the voyage seems indeed interminable ; but
at last we come upon an island camp-fire round which are Kafirs
dancing, and then on a hill we see a single light, which we know hangs
outside the trader's store, and we run the dug-outs into a creek, and
are grateful.
A. Trevor-Baityb;
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TUB FIRE OF ROME AND THE
CHRISTIANS
Thbrb 18 a nataial tendency on the part of the ChiistianB of to-day to
assume that their predecessors can by no possibility have been con-
cerned in such an outrageous crime as the burning of Rome in the
days of Nero. Elnowing as we do the moderate coimseb of the great
Apostle of the Qentiles, and the respect for the constituted authonties
which he shared with the Founder of Christianity^ we are unxilliD^to
admit that there can have been any section of men calling themsdyes
Christians, or so called by others, who would have been concerned in
jin aot so anarcbicaL On the other ^de we have the undoubted
historical fact that Christianity wba a proacribedxeligion in the dajg
evdu of the most humane Roman Emperors, and that it enjoyed a
monopoly of proscription. It is true that according to Josephus the
priests of Isis at Rome were punished by llberius for their complidty
in a disgraceful trick played upon a married woman of noble birth,
and that somewhat similar misconduct, according to the same autho-
rity, led to the deportation of 1,000 Jews from Rome to -Sardinia Mf
the same Emperor. These, however, were isolated instances of tiie
severity of the Government. Other expulsions of the Jews from Rome
were aJso connected with special causes ; along with the Chaldeans
and mathematicians, they were implicated in practices of divination ;
they were attacked, not on account of their religion, but for other
reasons ; there was no general persecution of Jews throughout the
Roman Empire. Josephus repeatedly speaks in high praise of the
liberality of the Roman authorities towards his religion and nation.
We do not know that any Roman official wrote to ask the Emperor
what he was to do with the Jews in his province, but we do know that
Pliny the Younger asked this question of the Emperor Trajan with
reference to Christians. In short, the Roman authorities were afraid
of Christians ; they saw in them some danger to the public welfare.
Tacitus, a contemporary and friend of the Younger Pliny, was a
boy in hb tenth year at the time of the fire ; the opinions of even a
precocious child of that age are not of much value in relation to an
historical event ; still, ideas may be received at that early age which
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colour a maturer judgment, and even facts may be remembered. In
the light of the fact that Tacitus as a child must have heard the sub-
ject discussed by his elders, what he wrote at an advanced age is of
peculiar interest. His words are as follows :
Therefore Nero, to put an end to the rumour (that he had himself ordered
the conflagration of the city), supplied criminals and punished them with the
most exquisite tortures, those whom the populace called Christians, rendered
unpopular by their detestable practices. The originator of that name, Christus,
had been punished in the reign of Tiberius by the procurator, Pontius Pilatus ;
and the pernicious superstition, though repressed for the time, kept breaking
out again, not only in Judeea, the source of the mischief, but even in the City,
the meeting-place in which everything horrible and abominable assembles from
all quarters and finds disciples. So first those were arrested who confessed,
then on their evidence a vast number were convicted, as being concerned not
so much with the charge of arson as with hatred of mankind.
The historian then tells us of the punishment of the incendiaries, how
they were wrapped up in inflammable material, and burned as torches
in the Pincian gardens while Nero galloped between their ranks in his
chariot ; and how this display shocked public sentiment, because it
seemed that the penalty was inflicted rather to gratify one man's
lust for cruelty than in the interests of justice.
Tacitus« in fact, does not blame Nero for having cruelly punished
iimocentmen ; his tone is rather that of regret that the Emperor, by
his indecent galloping, created sympathy with the sufferers ; nor can
he, as a conscientious Republican, forbear to suggest that the objection
to the cruelty lay less in the cruelty itself than in the pleasure that it
afforded to one man.
This, however, is a minor point ; the language pf the historian is
remarkable in other respects, for what it omits no less than for what
it records. On other occasions Tacitus shows himself a vigorous
Anti-Semite. Four classes of persons invariably fill his pen with
venom : freedmen, Jews, informers, and the Julian or Claudian
Emperors. His objection to the first three was in part at least pro-
fessional ; he objected to freedmen and Jews because they were em-
ployed in the civil service by the Emperors, to the informers as irregular
practitioners in the law courts, to the early Emperors because they had
displaced the Republic. When Tiberius transported 4,000 Jews to
Sardinia, where it was not improbable that they would be killed by
malaria, Tacitus observes that that would have been ' a cheap jetti-
son.' And yet, in spite of this feeling against the race, Tacitus for-
bears to make the Jews responsible for the supposed malpractices of
the Christians. It is true that he mentions Judsea as the geographical
birthplace of Christianity, but he forbears to add, as no one could
have better added, some stinging sentence as to the propensity of the
Jews to start undesirable superstitions. We may infer that, at the
time when Tacitus wrote the AnndU, the connection between Chris-
tianity and the religion of the Jews was not generally known. The
Vol,. LVIII— No. 340 8 T
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Jews, in fact, had by that time , vftiy good - jeason for diwnciatin|{
themaelves bxan Ohrintiana, .lag thfl latter yaie zeoogniBed as eneinies
of the Qovemment.
The htngaage of Josephus as to the Christians is in this connection
not without its interest. Josephus was a contemporary of Tadtus,
was in the service of the Flavian Emperors, as was Tacitus, and was
in the same manner favoured by Trajan. Josephus speaks as follows,
in the words of Whiston's translation :
Now there was about this time Jesas, a wise man, if it be lawful to call
*bim a man, for he was a doer of wonderful worin, a teacher of such men as
receive the troth with plearare. He drew over to him both many of the Jews
and many of the Gentiles. He was [the] Christ; and when Pilate at the
soggestion of the principal men amongst us had condemned him ta the oroeB,
those that bved him at first did not forsake him, for he appeared to them alive
again on the third day, as the divine prophets had foretold these and ten
thousand other wonderftil things concerning him ; and the tribe of Christians,
so named from him, are not extinct at this day.
Did Josephus not know that the Christians of his day were ob-
noxious to the Qovemment ? The language of Pliny and Trajan
would hardly incline us to class them with a ' tribe ' of whom we would
say only that ' they were not extinct.' Or was Josephus careful not
to appear to know too much of the proscribed sect, lest he should
draw attention to its connection with the Jews, and wake the always
latent Anti-Semite prejudice %
The genuineness of this passage has been questioned, chiefly because
Josephus would not be likely to speak of Jesus as * the Christ ' unless
he accepted Jesus as the Messiah. Josephus does not, however, do so ;
his language merely indicates that Jesus was the person known to the
(Gentiles as Christ (or, on one occasion, Chrestus), from whom the
Christians derived their name. The stress laid upon the power of
Jesus as a worker of wonders is in the spirit of the time ; Augustine,
at a later date, compares him in this respect with ApoUonius of Tyana,
Lactantius with Apuleius.
While Josephus speaks thus sympathetically of the Founder of
Christianity, and thus cautiously of his followers, the language of
Tacitus is much that which might be used at the present day of
Anarchists or Bed Republicans or Nihilists. * A dangerous (exUvMUi)
superstition,' ' hatred of humanity ' ; we can sympathise with autho-
rities who felt themselves bound to root out a superstition, which they
believed to be destructive in its tendencies, and held by men who
hated mankind. A third charge brought against the Christians by
Tacitus is to us even more improbable. Nothing is more strongly
marked in the letters of the Apostie of the Qentiles than his ascetic
tendencies with regard to the relations of the sexes. Not only does he
sternly reprove every kind of sexual impurity, but he shares the
Rssenian views with regard to marriage itself ; he speaks of it rather
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as a necessary evil than as a healthy and natural human relation ; he
does not regard it as the crown of life. NflYfirthflleflfl, Tft?'^'^!?. JgHlI^^
thaLitthe time of the fijce.of Rom^e^^the. year after St. Paul had been
resident income for two years prftaching freely^ ' no man forbidding
Um/ the Christians weie.obj^ts gI hatred to the people by reason
jof their ^flagitia^.' sexual iirr^^laritifls. This is a strange charge to
be made by the populace of Rome, who are generally held to have
wallowed in all impurities. It is true that ' flagitiimi ' may mean a
thing so innocent in our eyes as the marriage of a free woman with a
slave, and that the particular cause of offence may have been nothing
worse than the encouragement of such c(mnections by some Christians ;
but in any case the language of Tacitus indicates a belief on the part
of the Roman populace that the Christians in some way or other
violated the accepted rules which regulated the intercourse of the
sexes among the Romans.
Thus we have, in the passage quoted from Tacitus, three strong
contradictions to all that we Imow of Christianity. We know
Christianity as upholding personal purity against the prevailing
licence of the Qreek and Roman world ; Tacitus imputes to it sexual
irregularities. We know Christianity as inculcating submission to law
and order ; Tacitus knows it as a destructive superstition. And lastly,
we know of Christianity as the religion of love and charity with all
men ; Tadtus believes Christians to be inspired by a hatred of the
human race. Are we then absolutely to reject the evidence of Tacitus,
never a very sound informant where his prejudices are concerned, or
is there after all some way of reconciling the contradictions ?
Before passing to the general question, whether there may not have
been features of Christianity, views held, deeds done, by men who
caUed themselves or were caUed Christians, which were all di^erent
from the Christianity set forth for us in the Pauline Epistles, it is well
to discuss the language of Tacitus with reference to Christian com-
plicity in the burning of Rome.
One of the unamiable peculiarities of Tacitus is a tendency to
contradict himself when he sees an opportunity of imputing unworthy
motives to men or classes whom he dislikes. He had been through
the reign of terror under Domitian ; he had not at that time played
the part of a martyr, but submitted along with other senators ; the
compensation which he made to himself for his submission was a
habit of bitter suggestion to the disadvantage of all the Emperors
whom it was safe to attack, and especially of the Emperors of the
Julian and Claudian families, who were long dead, and had a djmastic
character particularly objectionable to a sound Republican. There is
no occasion to take up the defence of Nero against Tacitus or any
other historian ; but on the present occasion a contradiction must be
pointed out, not to clear the reputation of Nero, but to ascertain the
exact gravity of the charge against the Christians.
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Among the many wild mmoura with reference to the fire of Rome
was one that the Emperor himself had ordered it ; there were men who
professed to have seen agents of his helping to spread the flames ;
this rumour rapidly became inconvenient. Similar wild rumours
were spread abroad at the time of the fire of London. Therefore,
Tacitus tells us that Nero, in order to check this mmnnr, ff^Mttfi^nfytf,
' provided criminala ..or .scapegoats '; the word subdidU distinctly
suggests that the scapegoats were innocent, or, at the very least,
tiiat they would not have been found, had not it been necessary to
find them, in order to save somebody eke. But then follows a con-
tradiction. ' First, those were arrested who confessed [or ^ professed
their guilt '] ' ; if the men confessed, clearly they were not innocent,
or at the very least were willing to be considered guilty. Thus the
Christians concerned were not arrested solely on account of their
previous unpopularity. Why should they declare their guilt if tiiey
were, not guilty^! There is no suggestion that the confession of
guilt was wrung fnmi them by torture, a fact which, if it had happened,
Tacitus would hardly have been likely to omit, for it would have
added to the guilt of the detested Nero.
Then inquiries were made» and oa the evidenoe of those who
c<miBBsed a large muoberof others were arrested. The evidence
against these did not amount to proving them actually guilty of
arson ; but they were found to be inspired with such a hatred of the
human race that they were punished along with the rest. The punish-
ment itself was doubtless considered finely appropriate; the men
who had spread conflagration were themselves condemned to p^sh
by fire. In this we may see not merely the personal cruelty of Nero,
but the act of a panic-stncken Qovemment. An awful example had
to be made of the incendiaries. We have, in our own days, seen
something of the cruelties to which a civilised but terrified people can
be driven in the actual punishment of the Communists, and tiie
violent language used against them in the first ecstasies of horror
caused by the burning of the pubUc buildings of Paris.
In fact, so far as the evidence of Tacitus is concerned, we must
either reject such evidence altogether whenever it is inconvenient to
us, in which case history becomes extremely mythical ; or we must
bdieve that the Christians punished by the Qovemment of Nero were
punished on their own evidence. Granted that Nero was glad to
divert susjAcion from himself, granted that the Christians might have
been let alone but for the precarious position of the Emperor, the
fact remains that there was evidence against them, and evidence
supplied by themselves. Should we be equaUy unwilling to accept
the statement of Tacitus had it been directed against Chaldeans, or
* mathematicians,' or astrologers, or oth^ classes of persons obnoxioiu
to Tacitus, or even against the Jews ?
It is true that Tacitus has spoiled his case against the Christians
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by his use of the word ' subdidit ' ; but then Taoitas was constita*
tionally incapable of letting Nero off the chaige of having himself
caused the fiie ; he prefers to suggest that the Emperor did not clear
himself, though at the same time he evidently beUeves that real
criminals were discovered.
It is further certain that the Government was alarmed by the
discoveries which it made ; not only were the supposed, or really
guilty, incendiaries punished at Rome, but the Christians were sub-
jected to repressive measures in other places. The Government, in
fact, acted precisely as a Government of the present day would act,
if it became aware of the existence of an extensive Anarchist con-
spiracy possessing wide ramifications. A modem Government would
do its best to root out such a conspiracy, and to suppress opinions
likely, in its judgment, to lead to acts of violence. The fire of Rome
was no small matter, and might well spread alarm through the civilised
world. If we want a reason for the exceptional position of Christianity
as a proscribed reUgion in the Roman Empire, we find it in the fact
that the compUcity of Christians in the burning of Rome was generally
held to be proved. It was not a purely wanton persecution ; it was
caused by terror. Interested persons may have kept it up long after
it was known by thoughtful and well-informed administrators that
there was no real cause for alarm, but there had been a reason to begin
with, and similar prejudices once brought into being die hard.
Do the Christian documents which we possess anywhere suggest
that, after all, the moderation of St. Paul was not universal among
men known as Christians, and that there even were Christians with
anarchical tendencies ? On one occasion, and on one occasion only,
St. Paul speaks at some length on the duty of submitting to the powers
that be ; he is at pains to explain that Christianity does not involve
resistance to constituted authority, and that the i^nts of the Govem-
mentmust be accepted as beings in their own department, the agents
of QodL To whom does St. Paul speak in this way ? To the Christian
community at Rome. The thirteenth chapter of the Epistle to the
Romans is chiefly taken up with this subject. One marked character-
istic of St. Paul's epistles is that they are essentially practical, they
are not mere general expositions of doctrine ; they are almost inva-
riably addressed to the consideration of questions which have arisen.
St. P^ul does not find fault where there has been no faulty or warn
where there has been no occasion for warning. Wherever his arguments
may eventually lead him, he begins with applying himself to the
settlement of some actual difficulty. We may just as weU believe
that there were no dissensions in the Church of Corinth, no rival
parties there, no incestuous person wishing to marry or actually
having married his stepmother, nothing imseemly in its love feasts,
no danger of the advent of an anti-Pauline preacher, as beUeve that
there was no party, no person in the Christian community at Rome,
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who had mi^giviiigi aa to the duty of submisaion to the civil authoritieB.
St Paul would not have spoken op^the subject had it not he&uussSL
sary to speak. The commonly accepted date of the Epistie to die
Romans is 57 to 58 a.d., only six or sevMi years before ihe fire of
Rome. It is true that there is a difficulty about this. St. Paul
sends greetings to the household of Narcissus, who was got rid of by
AgripiHna in 54 a.d. ; thus, either the Epistle was written before that
date, or the household of Narcissus continued after the death of its
head. In eitiier case an anarchical tendency had shown itself in the
CSiristian community at Rome, and was reproved by St. Paul before
the fire of Rome. Aquila and Priscilla, Christian Jews, had been
expelled from Rome along with other Jews on account of riots * impul-
sore Chresto.'
There is, however, a wide difference between questions of eon-
science in reference to the obligation of obedience to the Qovemment
and such a state of mind as might lead to dangerous conspiracies.
And here we have evidence of another kind. Obedient readers
of the Episties of St. Paul, the Acts of the Apostles, or of the Gtosp^,
would not be concerned in acts of violence, or be impelled to them
even indirectiy ; unless, indeed, the belief in the immediate coming
of the Lord, held at first even by St. Paul himself, as we see from the
First Epistie to the Thessalonians, proved as unsettling to we^er
minds as similar teaching has proved to be since. But there is included
in the Canon of the New Testament a book containing many passages
of a distincdy inflammatory character, a book which, if read by
Seneca or Tacitus, might certainly dispose those staid authorities to
believe that they were written by a man who hated the human race.
We are so used to the vigorous denunciations of the Hebrew
prophets, to the burdens of the desert, of the sea, of the valley of
vision, and of Tjrre, tojbhe^ood of calamities in ^hioh all arndsondiy
who differ from the Hebrew seeia are to be engulfed, that we are
apt to miss the effect which these outpourings might have upon
men who were not familiar with them, and were possibly among
the victims to be involved in the calamities contemplated. Thus
we approach the Book of Revelation with some fortitude; the
outpourings of vials and the blowing of trumpets do not affect us.
Even those of us who believe firmly that the book predicts events
still to happen do not fear any immediate realisation of the prophecies,
or we interpret them in favour of others than ourselves. To the
6]:eek or the Roman such things were new ; their own literature, when
it strayed into prophecy, spoke of the return of the Golden Age ;
when it denounced, it denounced contemporary vices; it wasjnot
given to proclaiming a general vengeance of the gods upon erring
humanity.
Nor, again, was Hebrew literature known even to the learned
among the ancients. VirgU may have come across some extaicts from
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Isaiah before he wrote the PoUio[: such a thing is not impossible ;
but, speaking generally, the Hebrew Scriptures, as we know them,
were not known to Roman or Qreek ; at the utmost, between Jew
and Qentile there was some interchange of philosophic dogma, of
learning which we should now call scientific, of occult lore — ^more of
this probably than of anjrthing else. Moses was known to Apuleius
as a magician, so were Jannes and Jambres, these latter only casually
known to us.
Tacitus himself did not take the trouble to consult Josephus in
writing an account of the history of the Jews in connection with the
Jewish wars ; he adopted the idlest fables, even with reference to
the Dead Sea, a locality as well known to Roman administrators as
the Victoria Nyanza to ourselves.
Thus the first acquaintance which an inquiring Qentile in the reign
of Nero might make with the peculiar note of Hebrew prophecy
would be more likely to be a Christian book, written in Greek, than
a book of the old Dispensation ; and this peculiar note we find
strikingly exemplified in portions of the Revelation.
Now, though the date of the Revelation has been placed by
some authorities as late as 96 a.d., others are of opinion that at least
parts of it are as early acTthe reign of Nero.
If we assume, of a particular historical document, that the author
was able to predict future events with a definiteness beyond the
powers of ordinary human prescience, it is impossible to fix the date
of such a book by reference to internal evidence ; if, however, we find
in such a document clear allusions to facts that we otherwise know
to have happened, we are justified, until the contrary is clearly proved,
in assuming that such evidence of date as is afforded by internal
evidence must be accepted.
The subject of the seventeenth and eighteenth chapters of the
Book of Revelation is calamities impending over Babylon, or which
have actually happened. The author clearly indicates that Romei
is intended by Babylon : * the seven heads are seven mountains on r
which the woman sitteth.' Then follows the passage which would
be held sufficient in any other writing to fix the date : ' And there
are seven kings : five are fallen, and the one is, and the^ other is not
yet come ; and when he cometh he must continue a short space/
Julius Caesar, Augustus, Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius, give us the
five kings tiiat are fallen ; Nero, the sixth that is ; during the last
year of his reign the accession of Galba was a possibiUty within the
prevision of any who studied pubUc affairs. Owing to Galba's ad-
vanced age his reign was not likely to be a long one. From this
point we pass into prophecy : * And the beast that was and is not,
even he is the eighth, and is of the seven, and goeth into perdition,
&c., &c.'
Thus these two chapters would seem to have been written before
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the end of the reign of Neio, at a time when the personality of his
probable succeasor was known. The interval between the fire of
Borne and the death of Nero was only four years.
Other passages would seem to indicate that these chapters were
{written after the fire of Rome and the consequent persecution —
^And I saw the woman drunken with the blood of the saints, and
with the blood of the martyrs of Jesus ' (xvii. 6). We have no evidence
of any persecution of the Christians before the fire unless, indeed,
the expulsion of the Jews by Claudius ' impulsore Oiresto ' b to be
considered a Christian persecution.
The eighteenth chapter exults in a punishment whidi is to come
or has come upon Rome : * And he cried mightily with a strong
voice, saying, Babylon the great is fallen, is fallen, and is become
the habitation of devib, and the hold of every foul spirit, and a cage
of every unclean and hateful bird, &c.' ^She shall be utterly
burned with fire ' (v. 8). ' The kings of the earth . . . shall lament
for her when they shall see the smoke of her burning ' (v. 9). ^ And
every shipmaster and all the company in ships . . . stood afar off
and cried when they saw the smdce of her burning, saying. What
city is like unto this great city ! ' (v. 18). But the author does not
share their grief. * Rejoice ovcrher^ thou heaven,_and ye_ holy
apostles and ptnphfite ; for God hath avenged you on her ' (v. 20).
The language of denunciation, the language of exultation over the
greatest catastrophe that had befallen Rome, might well incline men
not experienced in the Hebrew temperament to see in the Christians
enemies of the human race. Nor is the Book of Revelation likely
to have stood alone. It would be contrary to all human experience
that all men and women who accepted the new religion invariably
spoke with soberness and reason. Were there not outpourings of
the Spirit, prophesjdngs, speaking with tongues, whose exuberance
St. Paul himself delicately checked in writing to the Corinthians !
Christianity, in fact, in its early days, was not homogeneous. Even
for the statement as to * flagitia ' some excuse is found in the conduct
of the Corinthian Christian who wished to marry his stepmother.
' Such fornication as is not so much as named among the Gentiles,'
says St. Paul, who had evidently not read the Hippolytus ; whileJih&.
^disQrderly, conduct, of the Agapffi^ rebuked by the Apostle in_the same^
Epistle to the Corinthians, might easily give rise to sinister rumours
and uncleanly imaginings.
We have also to take into account the effect upon the Gentile
Christians of their first introduction to the prophets of the Old Testa-
ment. Again and agcdn in the history of mankind these remarkable
books have made for violence ; they supply fuel to certain tenqiera*
ments, and fanatidsm is encouraged by tiiem to take the sword and
realise the vengeance.
Lastly, the Christian community at Rome would appear to have
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been afEected by St. Paul less than any other of the large CSiristian
communities. It was not of his foundation, for which reason, as
he explains, he long forbore to pay it a visit, being unwilling to
* build upon another man's foundation.' His two years' residence at
Rome was not accompanied by riots among the Jews, as in other
places ; nor is there any mention of numerous or distinguished con-
verts.
The chief of the Jews had, on St. Paul's arrival, neither heard
any evil of St. Paul himself, nor did they know more about the Grospel
preached by him than that ' this sect was everywhere spoken against.'
They did not seem to be aware that the Apostle had written a long
letter to the Christians at Rome, which could not be otherwise than
extremely distasteful to the chief of the Jews. And yet there must
have been a considerable number of Jews among the first Ouistians
at Rome, otherwise it would not have been necessary for the Apostle
to discuss the obligations of the law at such length. Surely we may
infer that the first Christians at Rome — such of them, at least, as
were not occasional visitors — ^were not of much consideration among
the Jewish community, and that their adoption of Christianity had
passed unnoticed by the chief of the Jews. Now the Jew of the
mean streets is as Uable to outbreaks of fanaticism as any other man;
and the time was one of unrest among all Jews, an unrest which
found its end in the destruction of Jerusalem only six years after the
fire at Rome. i
Taking all the facts together, the simplest explanation of them is
that members of some extreme sect of men calling themselves Chris-
tians were actually concerned in the fire of Rome ; that the innocent
suffered with the guilty ; and that utterances such as the seventeenth
and eighteenth chapters of the Book of Revelation encouraged the
Roman authorities to beUeve that the Christians were a dangerous
secret association, whose hatred to mankind made them a perpetual
menace to public security. Before we pass judgment on the Roman
authorities we must pause to remember that we have had our own
Popish Plots and Bloody Assizes, and that even sixteen centuries of
Christianity did not free us from the tendency to punish cruelly and
promiscuously at times of pubUc panic.
J. C. Tarver.
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THE DEANS AND THE ATHANASIAN
CREED
Ik the November number of this Review the Dean of T^^dsor has
replied to a letter to the TivMS newspaper, in which the Dean of
Lichfield gave his reasons for not signing an address of several deans
to the Archbishope of Canterbury and York expressing satisfaction
that the archbishops and bishops had lately been making a serious
effort towards solving a very difficult problem relating to tiie use of
the Athanasian Creed.
It might be thought impertinent for one who is not a dignitary of
the Church to intervene in such a controversy. But the Dean of
Windsor has made a special reference to what the Dean of Lichfield
has said as to the probable action of clergy who practise what are
called * Ritualistic irregularities/ meaning thereby, it is presumed,
the clergy who regard the Ornaments Rubric, uninfluenced either by
the advertisements of 1566 or by the interpretations of the Judicial
Committee of the Privy Council, as declaring in unmistakable liud-
guage the rule of the Church of England in regard to the ' ornaments of
the Church, and of the ministers thereof, at all times of their ministra-
tion.' As neither of the two deans appears to have quite adequately
appreciated the position of such clergy in regard to the question of
the use of the Athanasian Creed, one of them may perhaps be excused
for stating what he beUeves to be the attitude of the great majority
of them, though not presuming to speak in any representative
character.
The Dean of Lichfield says that : * Those clergy who have been
practising what are called '* Ritualistic irregularities " would be &r
less likely to accept the godly admonition of their bishops if ihey had
disregarded their teelings in matters which to them are of vital im-
portance.'
The Dean of Windsor thus comments upon this :
It says, in effect, that, if any change shoold be made in the present use of
the Athanasian Creed, those clergy who practise what are called ' Ritoalistio
irregularities,* having had their feelings disregarded on a matter which is of
vital importance, will be less likely to obey the godly admonition of their
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bishops. That is to say, that if a burning question, which enlists on both sides
of it a vast amount of the orthodoxy and piety of the Ghoroh should eventually
be decided by authority in a way contrary to the ideas and wishes of certain
clergy, then it is likely that these clergy will hesitate to accept the godly
admonitions of their bishops, and so forget the solemn vow and promise made
at their ordination.
The Dean of Lichfield has probably not very accurately expressed
his view of the action likely to be taken by such clergy when he sug-
gests th^t they would be actuated by any disregard of their feelings.
If he had used the word ' convictions ' instead of ' feelings/ he would
probably have better expressed his own opinion, and he would certainly
have more clearly expressed the facts of the situation.
The Dean of Windsor has probably been somewhat misled by
the unhappy introduction of the question of feelings ; but he has also
introduced fresh confusion of thought by substituting the word
* obey * for * accept.'
As for the ordination vow, no one would be less likely than the
Dean of Windsor to contend that it is an unconditional promise of
blind unreasoning obedience, such as Rome appears to us to require
from all subordinates to their ecclesiastical superiors. It is a
universal principle that the general assent of the governed is neces-
sary to give moral binding force to law. It is on this principle, assumed
as an axiom, that Blackstone argues that common law, the law of
custom, is of stronger binding force than statute law, because the
former has in itself that authority of general assent which the latter
has not in itself, and only receives when generally accepted. This
principle is of greater importance, if possible, in ecclesiastical than in
civil law, because ecclesiastical law does not depend so much for its
observance on the enforcement of penalties as on the sense of moral
obligation. It is sometimes argued that such and such an ecclesiastical
law need not be regarded, because no direct temporal penalty is en-
forced for any breach of it. But this is to lower the conception of
the force of ecclesiastical law as appealing primarily, and sometimes
exclusively, to the conscience.
But if conscience has such a prominent place in enforcing the
duty of obedience, it follows necessarily that conscience may scmie-
times forbid compliance with the demands of a superior. The late
Bishop of Ely deserves all honour for the following statement in a
letter to his clergy, making certain requests, in 1899 : * No doubt
disobedience to lawful authority may be a duty, and no vow can
bind to a sinful act, or justify failure to fulfil a clear duty.'
A bishop making such an admission, and treating his clergy
generally as the late Bishop of Ely did, will hot often have to com-
plain of disregard even of his expressed wishes, far less of his admoni-
tions. The demand for blind imreasoning obedience, for obedience
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even when conscience forbids it, will, on ike contiaiy, inevitably
meet with resiBtance.
Since the admonitions and judgments of a bishop are not to be
accepted blindly, but are to be obeyed conscientiously, if at all, the
question must arise in the mind of the person to whom they are
addressed whether th^y are godly — whether, that is, they are such as
the bishop has authority to issue.
What is argued for here is not the right of private judgment,
but the supremacy of conscience. If the bishop were the sole superior
authority the case would be different, but bishop and cleigy alike
are subject primarily to the authority of the English Church, and,
finaUy, to that of the undivided Catholic Church. For a bishop to
claim that the authority of the whole Church is summed up in him-
self, without regard to any superior authority, is rank Popery ; for
any number of individual bishops to take the same line is schism.
The question, then, that every clergyman not only may, but is bound
in conscience to ask, in regard to any admonition or judgment of his
bishop, is whether it is in accordance with that larger authority to
which the bishop is himself subject.
Now the large majority of the clergy of the Church of England,
not only those who practise ' Ritualistic irregularities,' but also those
who call themselves Evangelicals, are convinced of the truth of the
Athanadian Creed. They hold their benefices and licences on condi*
tion of having assented to the statement of the 8th Article : ' The
three creeds — Nicene Creed, Athanasius's Creed, and that which is
commonly called the Apostles' Creed — ought thoroughly to be re-
ceived and believed ; for they may be proved by most certain warrant
of Holy Scripture.* And they honestly believe what they profess to.
Moreover, since the whole of the Athanasian Creed, including the
warning clauses, is called, in the rubric in the Prayer-book pre-
scribing its use, ' this confession of our Christian faith, commonly
called the Creed of St. Athanasius,' they are convinced that the
Creed of the Prayer-book and the Creed of the Article are in all respects
absolutely identical, and that the warning clauses are not, as the
Dean of Windsor suggests^ something attached to the Creed, but an
integral part of the Creed, and are, according to the Article, to be
thoroughly received and beUeved as fully as any other part of the
Creed.
A number of resident members of the Senate of the University of
Cambridge, on the other hand, have stated in a memorial to the
Archbishops of Canterbury and York their opinion that the warning
clauses, 'taken in their plain meaning, go beyond the warrant of
Scripture.' One of the promoters of the memorial, Dr. Chase, now
Bishop of Ely, has published this explanation of his action :
I would call your attention to the terms of the second of the resolutions of
the Upper House of the Convocation of Canterbury . . .: 'That this House
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. . . acknowledges . . . that in their prvrnd-facie meaning, and in the minds
of many who hear them, those clauses convey a more unqualified statement
than Scripture warrants.'
I am of opinion that the words of the memorial and the words of the
resolution cover precisely the same ground. I regard the term * plain meaning '
and the term ^primd-fame meaning * (especially in connection with the words
of the resolution which follow : * and in the minds of many who hear them ') as
strictly synonymous ; and I myself should he quite ready to adopt the latter
phrase (with the words which follow) in place of the foimer, helieving that no
change of meaning would ensue from the substitution.
It is satisfactory to know what Dr. Chase meant by the memorial ;
but he does not say whether his fellow-signatories agree with him.
The actaal words of the memorial do not certainly easily lend them-
selves to his interpretation ; and it is most difficidt to reconcile them
with the bishops' resolution; for the primd-fade, or superficial,
meaning of a statement of a deep spiritual truth must be inadequate,
and the qualification ' in the minds of many who hear them, convey^
&c.,' is very different from declaring what the warning clauses really
are in themselves. But the ' plain meaning,' if the clauses have a
plain meaning, must be the natural and necessary meaning; and
consequently the memorial, whatever the intention of its promoters,
does in itself directly contradict the Article, at least in the minds of
many who read it.
But if the memorial can be regarded by one of its promoters as
identical with the bishops' resolution, it cannot be wondered at if
many people conversely take the resolution as meaning the same as
the memorial, and therefore as contradicting the Article.
The Dean of Windsor, with startling inaccuracy, himself says
that the Upper House of Convocation of Canterbury has affirmed
that * the " damnatory clauses " do, in their prima-facie meaning, go
beyond what is warranted by Holy Scripture,' which unqualified
statement ought to make the bishops lay to hea^ seriously the way
in which their utterances are likely to be warped in a certain direction.
If the impression spreads that the biiAops agreed to a resolution
equivalent to a denial of the 8th Article, and if they take action
based upon such a resolution, it is inevitable that respect for their
authority will be seriously diminished, and that the clergy, Evangelical
as well as those who practise ' Ritualistic irregularities,' will be &r
less ready to accept their admonitions and judgments as godly.
As far as can be seen, the almost sole effect of the memorial at
Cambridge has been to lessen respect for authority on the part of
many of the undergraduates, who believe the clerical memorialists
to have denied one of the Articles, on condition of assent to which
they hold office ; and to this diminishing respect for authority, arising
from this and similar causes, must be chiefly attributed the inability
of the authorities to cope with the prevalent 'ragging' which is
being so much complained of in the local press at the present time.
The defgy who practise ' Ritualistic irregularities,' and many others.
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1006 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Dec.
do not wiah to see the same paralysis of autiiority in the Ghuioh, but
they will not pretend a respect for authority which itself diaregpuds
higher authority.
The Dean of Windsor says: *The problem is how to preserve
intact the statement of the Catholic bith set forth in the Athanasian
Creed, and at the same time to relieve the consciepces of those who
object to the recitation, in the public service of the Church, of what
are known as the *' damnatory clauses " attached to the Creed in
question.'
It is as unreasonable and as unfair to speak of the * diCmnatory
clauses ' as it would be to call the lights that warn our shipping from
dangerous rocks * damnatory lights.' The Canterbury Convocation
stated in a sjmodal declaration in 1876 that ' the warnings in tiiia
confession of bith are to be understood no otherwise than the like
warnings in Holy Scripture.' If the warning clauses are to be deleted,
it would be inconsistent to retain the statement of our Lord Himself
ocmtained in such passages as St. John xii. 48 and St. Mark xvi. 16,
which are also used in the public service of the Church. If those
who object to the public recitation of the Athanasian Creed cannot be
satisfied with such an explanation as was given by Convocation, there
would appear to be no solution of the deans' problem except to
sorrowfully allow them to join some society outside the Church which
permits a man to believe what he pleases, and does not declare any
distinct faith to be necessary to salvation. If it be said that this
is an uncharitable view, it must be stated in defence that those who
object to the Athanasian Creed are not, as a rule, the uneducated
people, the poor to whom the Gk)spel is preached, who are generally
ready to accept a reasonable explanation, but educated people who
are uninstructed in spiritual truth, and whose pride of learning hinders
them from that spirit of discipleship which can alone enable them to
accept the faith as ^t is in Christ. To pander to their pride by re-
moving the warning lights which are humbly and thankfully accepted
as danger signals, supplied by the loving mercy of Qod, by tiiose
who humbly seek the way of salvation, would be to act the part of
wreckers to the peril of many wandering souls. There are many
who once disliked the Athanasian Creed as much as those who are
attacking it now, who thank God that their ignorant prejudice was
ignored, and that they have learned to regard the warning clauses
as not merely lights to warn men off from the rocks, but as also showing
the right way.
The Dean of Windsor suggests a solution of the problem by clergy
who disUke the Athanasian Creed of their own motion neglecting the
recitation of it ; and he propounds the extraordinary theory that by
such disuse the rubric enjoining its use would cease to have f(»oe.
The suggestion is implied that every clergyman may play jbst and
loose with the Prayer-book, omitting, and, it would seem to follow,
inserting anything he pleases. In justification of such a course the
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Dean instanoes the general dianse of the Long Exhortation in the
Communion Service. Anything less to the point could scarcely be
imagined. There is no controversy about the Long Exhortation. It
was inserted at a time when little instruction was given, when igno-
rance was very prevalent, and when it was thought desirable, wisely
or unwisely, to insert an exhortation in every public service. In these
days of undue multiplication of sermons the supposed need for such
an exhortation as a regular part of the service has certainly ceased.
It is one of those indifferent matters, like the preaching of a sermon
or not at every celebration, which belong to the minima, de quibm
nan curat lex, which may be left to the discretion of the individual
minister, and which there is general agreement upon. The omission
of a creed on the ground that some of its statements are untrue —
for that is what it amounts to in plain words — ^a creed which the
Article says is thoroughly to be received and believed, and which the
great majority of Church-people do receive and believe, is a very
different matter. The suggestion is no practical solution of the
problem, for there are some lay people in congregations where the
clergyman certainly would not omit it, who do not like it, and there
are some, where it would be omitted, who would object to the omission.
But, worse than that, it would be the opening of the floodgates of
irresponsible eclecticism. The great majority of the clergy and laity
where * Ritualistic irregularities,* so-caUed, prevail, though sensible of
the &ct that the Prayer-book is not perfect, believe that unauthorised
additions or omissions are unjustifiable ; but, if the Dean's suggestion
were accepted, it would be impossible to object, for instance, to the
substitution of parts of the Roman for parts of the English liturgy
by the few extremists who would be likely to perpetuate it, or to the
omission of even the words of consecration by some fanatical hater of
sacerdotalism. It would really appear to be the clergy who are
accused of ' Ritualistic irregularities ' who are the chief defenders of
law and order, and who are the most loyal and obedient sons of
the Church of England.
The Dean of Windsor is horrified at the idea that any Churchmen
should, under any circumstances, be so disloyal as to take part in the
movement for disestablishing the Church of their baptism. It is
because it is the Church of their baptism, not the creature of the
State, but an independent spiritual body, that a large and increasing
number of Churchmen regard Establishment as an accident, harmless,
perhaps, when the constitutional rights of the Church are respected,
but injur:ious when they are disregarded. If Parliament is used
simply as a tool to attack the Catholic faith, and to coerce the clergy
who practise 'Ritualistic irregularities,' that large body of loyal
Churchmen will be driven by their loyalty to the Church of their
baptism to work for its deliverance from State control.
W. Crouch.
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A GUIDE TO THE 'STATISTICAL
ABSTRACT'
THE OOKKJSED AND EXAOGEBATED STATEMENTS MADE BY BOTH
PABTIB8, LABOELT DUE TO THE FAULTS OF OUB OFFICIAL STATISTIGS
I WAS lately staying in a house where the party present comprised
several of Mr. Chamberlain's sjrmpathisers, and one of his most eminent
opponents. Political questions were not much discussed; but the
opponent referred to could not, on one occasion, refrain from com-
menting on Mr. Chamberlain's manner of dealing with the decline of
emplojrment in the cotton trade. The admitted decline in the number
of hands employed, on which Mr. Chamberlain dwelt, was, so Ub
critic observed with much righteous scorn, confined altogether to
workers under eighteen years of age, and was more than made good
by an actual increase among employed adults, this being taken in
conjunction with an increased efficiency of machinery. We all make
mistakes — ^Mr. Chamberlain no less than other people ; and I was at
the moment inclined to accept this criticism as correct. Happening,
however, to have with me a copy of the StoHstical Abshrad, from which
Mr. Chamberlain and his critic had alike drawn their figures, I found
that, though Mr. Chamberlain may have spoken perhaps with some
exaggeration, the inaccuracy of the critic who corrected him was
of an incomparably more misleading kind. And all this difference of
opinion between two practical and highly gifted men, both actuated
by intentions equally honest, took place in connection with figures
which are supplied to both by the Government in an easily accessible
volume, and which, taken individually, are not questioned by either.
During the same visit I observed to one of Mr. Chamberlain's
sympathisers, a well-known member of Parliament, that the fiscal
controversy turned on two quite separate questions, which were
unfortunately too often confused — one being whether Protection,
administered in careful doses, is really aspecifio for a particular economic
disease ; the other being whether this country is really diseased at all,
and, if so, to what extent. My friend replied that, as to thd latter
question, he not only felt doubts, but was sometimes tempted to
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wonder whether the means existed for arriving at any conclusive
judgment, the statistics being so complicated and confusing, and
capable of being read in so many different ways. Here was another
example of how little even highly intelligent thinkers have digested
the facts accessible to them in connection with the present subject.
Now how is it that all such opposition, or such a despondent
uncertainty, of opinion, can prevail amongst men such as those of
whom I am now speaking — I do not say with regard to the entire
facts of the question, but — with regard to that portion of the facts
which has been officially collected and tabulated, and put before
them in a volume to which they all refer ? To this question there
are, no doubt, several answers. The largest charity will not permit
us to doubt that political speakers on both sides are apt, in the heat
of controversy, to consult the volume referred to less with a view to
forming their conclusions than to picking out isolated facts by which
foregone conclusions may be illustrated. If a book of official statistics
is treated in this way, we shall not be flattering it if we say it resembles
the Bible, in which every theologian notoriotisly discovers his own
dogmas. But the contradictions between the dogmas drawn from a
study of the Statistical Abstract has another cause, and a cause much
more efficient than any defects in the temper of those who consult
the volmne ; and that is the defects and confusions which disgrace the
volume itself.
Those numerous persons who have views about fiscal policy, but
whose ordinary reading does not include Blue-books, hardly know
perhaps what the Stalisticdt Abstract is. Let me tell them. The
Statisticcd Abstract is a book, bound in blue paper, containing 300
pages, and costing 1«. 3d., which is published annually by the Govern-
ment. It deals mainly with the taxation and trade of the country,
each issue covering a period of fifteen years. In especial it contains
a series of elaborate tables, occupjdng something like 130 pages,
and giving the quantities, values, destinations, and origins of our
annual exports and imports, the former being classified under about
160 headings, the latter under 270. This book, and especially these
particular tables, both Protectionists and Free-traders refer to as
their impregnable rock of Scripture. ' Mr. Chamberlain to teach ;
the Statistical Abstract to prove,' says one party. * Mr. Asquith to
teach ; the Statistical Abstract to prove,' says the other party.
Now their confidence in this volume is, in one sense, well founded.
The correctness of the information contained in it, so far as this goes,
is indubitable ; but the way in which the items of information have
been put together — especially those which refer to the question of
imports and exports — is so imperfect,so careless, so crude, so perversely
unintelligent, that the task of extracting from them any general
meaning is more laborious than that of collecting them. It would
seem that the object of those responsible for the volume was not, as
Vol. LVni— No. 346 3 U
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1010 TH3 NINETEENTH CENTURY Dec.
it ought to be, to give the geneial public a maximnm of digested
intelhgence in the dearest fonn possible, but to hide the meaning of
the facts by arranging them in the form of a puzzle, which the ordinary
reader is defied, rather than helped, to solve. Let me give the reader
a few examples.
One of the most important economic questions which claim the
statesman's attention is our com supply, home and foreign, and
the proportion borne by the imported to the native product. The
Statittioai Abt&act informs us about this question fully in three
tables — ^Nos. 32, 70, and 73 ; but, though in all these tables it is dealing
with the same article — wheat, and is giving us figures about it which
are valueless except for purposes of comparison, it expresses the
quantities dealt with by three different measures. We have cwts.
in Table 32 ; we have quarters in Table 70; in Table 73 we have bushels.
In comparing the tables of exported with those of imported com-
modities, one of the first points one is naturally tempted to consider
is the proportion between the exports and imports of commodities
of the same kind ; but instead of doing anything to make this com-
parison easy, the compilers of the volimie actually enter^ in the two
different tables, some of the same conmiodities under different names.
Thus, in the Table of Exports the first article mentioned is aerated
waters. In the Table of Imports there is no corresponding entry;
but the same commodity there is made to figure under the head of
* mineral waters,' and appears consequently in quite another place.
Still more remarkable is the fact that, till a very few years ago, mineral
waters were classified with 'gilt mouldings,' whilst our exports of
bricks were lumped together with our exports of Worcester china.
Again, in the Tables of Exports, a certain number of the items
are grouped in classes, with what seems to be reasonable method,
and their value or quantity is in some cases given as a total ; but
even this is done in the most arbitrary and careless manner. Thus our
exports of linen manufactures are treated and added up as they
should be ; but our exports of machinery, which follow on those of
linen, are not added up at all. Close on our exports of machinery
follow our exports of metals, under which heading are classed rails,
anchors, and bedsteads, tubes, screws, and rivets. These are added
up, and are entered as ' Total of Iron and Steel.' All this is printed in
such a way as to convey to the reader the impression that this grand
total includes the foregoing machinery ; and unless the reader adds
up all the figures for himself, the only thing which suggests that this
is not the case is the fact that between the groups Machinery and
Metals, and so printed as to seem part of the former, come three
minor items, Manures, Meat, and Medicines.
Again, if any commodities deserve to be classed under the heading
of Machinery, or of Metals, amongst these are the wheels, frames,
and springs of railway carriages, parts of motor-cars, bicycles, sewing-
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1905 A GUIDE TO THE ' STATISTICAL ABSTRACT ' 1011
machines, agricultaial implements, and cutlery. But under neither
of the headings in question is any one of these commodities included.
According to the compilers of the Statistioal Abstracty a sewing-
machine is not a machine ; the cylinders of a motor-car do not even
rank among metals. The rails we export are exports of ^ iron or steel.'
The iron wheels that run on them are hidden in some different entry.
Angle-iron is a metal ; Sheffield cutlery is not. Agricultural tools and
implements are not only discriminated from agricultural machinery,
but are found in exile among hats and grease and jute, as though
they were neither mechanical nor metallic. Tet again, electrical
apparatus is separated from electrical machinery; and telegraphic
apparatus is similarly separated from both.
Examples of this kind might be multiplied ; but those just given
will be enough to show the reader with what a perverse want of intel-
ligence, and with what chaotic results, the facts recorded in the
volume have been put together ; and how little we need wonder if
the volume leads to opposite conclusions amongst its readers, when the
facts recorded in it have been so Uttle understood by its compilers.
I propose in the present article to deal with those pages of it
which bear most directly on the present fiscal question — ^that is to
say, the Tables of Exports and Imports ; and, without ii^^w^^ing on
one fiscal theory or the other, to reduce these confused statistics to
some intelligible order, so that the reader, whatever his sjonpathies,
may be able with advantage to consult the volimie for himself. So
far, indeed, as the fiscal question is concerned, this article might
be called ' A Guide to the Statistical Abstract.^ I shall give references
to pages and tables, so that anyone who cares to do so may at once
turn to the original.
II
CUB EXPORTS FOR 1903 CLASSIFIED
The great questions which we have here to deal with are purely
questions of fact, and have nothing to do with theory. In what
condition are the trade and industry of this country now, as com-
pared generally with their condition since the adoption of Free-
trade principles, and more particularly with their condition since a
much more recent date ? Do our industries continue to make the
progress they once did, or is their rate of progress diminishing, or are
they, as a whole, declining ? What light is thrown on these ques-
tions by the value and the quantities of the home manufactures which
we export, and the quantities and value of the commodities which,
instead of producing, we. import ? We will deal with our exports
first, as recorded in terms of value, in Table 44 of the Statistical
Abstract, pages 132-143 ; and we will also refer, when requisite, to
the preceding Table (No. 43, pages 121-131), which gives the same
8 u 2
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1012 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Dec.
exports in terms of weight or quantity. These tables {Stati^icd
Abstrad, 1904) give the figures for 1889, and the fourteen years
succeeding ; but, before comparing the figures for the different years,
we must manage to get some general and intelligible idea of certain
broad facts which throughout are approximately the same. I refer
to the various dosses of commodities which we produce for export,
and their relative importance in point of value and quantity.
As I have said already, they are, in the Statistical Abstract
entered imder about 160 headings, which are arranged in an alpha-
betical, but an otherwise wholly irrational, order. The first thing to
do is to take those great groups of products which are most important
in point of aggregate value, and whose constituent items are unmis-
takable.
Of the 160 commodities mentioned in the Table of Exports about
ninety will be foimd to belong to three great groups, the aggr^ate
value of which is more than two-thirds of the whole. These groups
consist firstly of textile goods, or goods spun or woven out of cotton,
wool, flax, silk, and jute ; secondly, of metaUic goods, from pig iron
up to finished mechanism, implements, utensils, or parts of these ;
and thirdly, of coal. The total value of our exports in 1903 was
290,000,0001. Of this sum — to speak roughly — textile exports made
up 107,000,0002., metaUic goods made up more than 65,000,000^., and
coal made up about 28,000,000i. No other groups approach these in
their aggregate values; but next to them, comprising about thirty
separate entries, come six groups which can be distinguished with
equal ease, and which are here given in the order of their aggr^te
values for the year 1903 : (1) Preserved or prepared provisions,
including certain articles of drink, value nearly 15,000,0001. ;
(2) Ready-made clothing and haberdashery, value about 8,000,000?. ;
(3) Chemicals, dyes, oils, and painters' colours, value between
7,000,000i. and 8,000,0002. ; (4) Manufactures of leather— boots,
saddlery, &c. ; (5) Glass and china ; (6) Paper and stationery, the
value of each of these three being approximately 3,000,0002. We will
examine the above facts with more care presently. They give us, as
just stated, a general outline of the situation. Let us see how.
Of the total value of our exports for 1903— namely, 290,000,0001.
— the three great groups first mentioned, textile goods, metaUic goods,
and coal, make about up 200,000,0002. ; whilst the other six groups
make up about 40,000,0002. ; that is to say, about 240,000,0002. out
of the total of 290,000,0002. ; 50,000,0002. being left as yet unaccounted
for, and contributed by some forty minor kinds of exports, which
remain unclassified. Eight million pounds' worth of this amount is
contributed by goods which are entered as * unenumerated,' or ' sent
by parcel post.' More than 4,000,0002. is contributed by ships,
which were till lately not entered in the Statistical Abstract at all.
Then come, in order of value, manures, nearly 2,800,0002. ; books.
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1905 A GUIDE TO THE ' STATISTICAL ABSTRACT ' 1018
1,700,000Z. ; five classes of goods — ^namely, hats, furs, soap, floorcloth,
and products of peat, the value of each of which is in round numbers
1,500,000{. ; furniture and grease, each of which approaches
1,000,000{. ; animals, 750,000Z. ; seven classes of goods, the total
value of each of which is less than three-quarters, and more than half,
a million, namely— to give them in the order of their value — cement,
tobacco, cordage, plate, wood, candles, and clay. Of the fifteen classes
of miscellaneous goods which remain (amongst them being toys,
umbrellas, clocks, seeds, and pictures) the total value in each case is
less than half a million, the value of exported clocks being only
75,000Z.
The use of round numbers in the above analysis would be found to
result, if the figures were dealt with strictly, in a cumulative error of
something Uke 4 per cent. ; but they are quite accurate enough for
the purposes of a general sketch. With this general sketch before
us we will now descend to particulars.
Ill
OUR CLASSIFIED EXPORTS FOR 1903 COMPARED WITH THOSE
FOR 1880
The figures just given for the year 1903 would, for our present
purpose, be meaningless if they stood alone. What we have to do is
to compare them with the figures for the years preceding ; and of
these years, for the moment, we will confine ourselves to the fourteen
dealt with in the Statistical Abstract for 1904. Taking, then, the
earUest year — namely, 1889 — and comparing its total exports with
those of 1903, the great fact which forces itself on our attention first
is that the exports for the latter year — 290,000,000?. — are greater by
42,000,000Z. than those of the former, which figure as no more than
248,000,000Z. In spite, therefore, of a great diminution of this
earlier total during some of the intermediate years, we may begin by
accepting the comparison just drawn between the two, at its face
value, as exhibiting our trade in a state, not of retrogression or even
of stagnation, but of progress. We will assume them to mean that
we are, in respect of our exports, permanently richer than we were
in 1889 by at least as much as 42,000,0002. annually ; and we will go
on to inquire how this increment is made up.
Adhering, then, to the classification of goods which has just been
given for 1903, let us compare the total value of each class of ex-
ports in that year with the value of the corresponding class in the
year 1889. We will begin with the three great classes — textiles,
metals, and coal.
In 1903 they were worth about 200,000,0002. ; in 1889 they were
worth about 183,000,0002. Thus of the increment of 42,000,0002. which
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1014
THE NINETEENTH CENTURY
Dec.
we have to aooount for, we shall find somewhere amongst these the
explanation of about 17,000,0001. The following table will show how
matters stand (see Statistioai AMract, Table 44) :
1889
Textile pieee floodi (woven) .
Tarn, or textue matarials (spnn)
Metallio goods ...
Coal . . . • .
£
90,200,000
17,000,000
58,000,000
15,000,000
190S
£
90,700,000
18,000,000
65,000,000
28,000,000 I
I
The question of quantities, as distinct from values, will be con-
sidered presently ; but so far as values are concerned, the accuraoy
of the above figures — the slight errors inddental to the use of roxmd
numbers being allowed for — ^is incontestable. Our textile industries,
in point of value, were less by about 3,000,0001. in 1903 than they
were in 1889. On the other hand, our metallic exports had increased
by about 7,000,00W., and our exports of coal by about 13,000,OOW.
The net increase in the value of the three great classes was thus
about 17,000,0001.
Let us now take the six classes or groups of exports already men-
tioned as next to these in importance, and treat them in the same
way:
Pireserved or prepared provieionB
Beadjr-made clothing, &c
OhemiealB, dyes, oUs, &o.
Leather goods
Glass and china .
Paper and stationery .
1889 1
IMS
£
£
8,000,000
15,000,000
7,000,000
8,000,000
5,000,000
8,000,000
2,800.000
8,000,000
8,800,000 ;
8,200,000
2,700,000 1
8,200,000
Here we have a total for 1889 of about 28,O0O,O0W., and for 1903
of about 40,000,0002., an increase having taken place in each class
but one, and the total increase having been about 12,000,0001. Of
the 42,000,0001. of total increase 29,000,0001. have now been accounted
for, and 13,000,0002. remain.
With regard to about 4,000,0002. of this sum no comparisons
between the two years are possible, as it represents the value of
exported ships in 1903 — ^an item which the compilers of the Statistical
AbstTiKi never thought worth considering till two or three years ago.
Ships, for them, were apparently ^ invisible exports.* There is, again,
another class of goods — ^those entered as ^ unenumerated ' or ' sent
by parcel post,* in respect of which the two years can be compared,
but which we are given no means of analysing. In 1889 these goods
were worth about 6,000,0002., in 1903 about 8,700,0002. This gives
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1906 A GUIDE TO THE • STATISTICAL ABSTRACT ' 1016
us an increment of very nearly 3,000,0001., which, added to the
4,000,0007. for ships, leaves us still to account for an increment of
something Uke 6,000,0001.
This sum is mainly made up by the growth of the following minor
products, which it will be sufficient to tabulate thus :
Excess of valub fob 1908 ovbb value fob 1889.
£
Manures .
700,000
Floorcloth .
. 700,000
Soap ....
. 600,000
Tobacco
600,000
Books
500,000
Purs ....
500,000
Grease . . . .
450,000
Candles
800,000
£
Clay .
. 300,000
Fuel .
. 800,000
Furniture .
. 100,000
Cordage
. 100,000
Plate .
. 100.000
Seeds .
. 160.000
Total .
£6,400,000
There are some other smaller increments among certain minor
trades; and, apart from certain branches of the larger groups of
industries, there are twelve products which show a diminution in
value. In one case — that of paraffin wax — ^the diminution amounts
to l,000,000i. ; in another— that of cement— to 500,000?. In the
remaining ten the losses are insignificant, as is also the normal dimen-
sion of the trades — e.g, bleaching materials, aerated waters, sacks,
clocks, and umbrellas.
Now this general comparison of our trade in 1903 with our trade
in 1889, ai3 tested by the values of our exports, disposes at once of
the crude and hasty contention which Free-traders on the platform
are accustomed to impute to their opponents, and which have been
no doubt put forward by some of them, that the industries of this
country are in a state of absolute decline. Certain industries do
show a decline, but the industries which show it are, with one im-
portant exception, of comparatively small dimensions, and many of
them are branches of larger industries which show on the whole an
increase. In any case, the fact remains that our exports for 1903
exceeded those for 1889 by 42,000,000J. But the optimism which
this fact is apt to engender in the Free-trader is by no means so well
warranted as may at first sight appear. That such ia the ccuse may
be easily shown in one way before we go on to examine the question
in detail.
'f he value of a country's trade is no index of that country's pro-
sperity unless its value at the periods compared is taken in relation
to the population. Now, in 1889, when the value of our exports was
248,000,000?., the population of the United Kingdom was 37,000,000
{Statistical Abstract, p. 279) ; in 1903 it was 42,000,000. A certain
increase, therefore, in the absolute value of the exports was bound
to take place, if relatively to the population our trade was to be no
more than stationary. The increase necessary to keep it merely
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1016 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Dec
8t*tionAry in thiB, the only practical sense, can be ascertained at once
by a simple proportion suul If a population of 37,000,000 exports
goods to the value of 248,000,0001., a population of 42,000,000, in
order merely to retain the same relative position, will have to eiq>ort
goods to the value of nearly 282,000,0001. A population of 42,000,000
in 1903 did actually export goods to the value of 290,00O,000{. ; but
this absolute increment of 42,000,0002. will thus be seen, relatively
to the population, and practically, to sink to an increment of 8,000,0001.
only. Having given this warning to the reader against over-hasty
conclusions, we will now consider m&te in detail the situation which
has just been outlined.
IV
CLASSIFIED EXPORTS COMPARED WITH CORRESPONDING IMPORTS
Of all the British industries that produce goods for export, the
textile group — cotton, wool, linen, silk, and jute — is beyond all com-
parison the greatest. One of the main themes of the tariff-reformer
is the unsatis&ctory condition of this group. One of the main conten-
tions of the Free-traders is that in this respect their opponents are
wrong. Mr. Chamberlain and his friends, they say, have managed
to make out a spurious and illusory case, by taking the values of
our textile exports in the early * seventies,' which were no doubt
greater than they have ever been subsequently; but these values
were due to exceptionally inflated prices, and to other incidents
arising out of the Franco-Qerman war ; the volume of our textile trade,
measured by normal standards, being fiiuch less then than it is now.
If we are to make, they say, a fruitful comparison with our past years
of prosperity, we ought to begin with some date subsequent to the
year 1875. If we do this, we shall find that the history of our textile
exports is a magnificent monument to the validity of free-trade prin-
ciples. Now, with certain limits this criticism may be acceptdl as
true. The inflated prices which prevailed during the early ' seventies,'
when the price of a yard of cotton cloth was to its present value as
thirty-one to nineteen, render references to that period in many
respects misleading. We will therefore say littie of that period —
what we do. say having reference not to values but quantities — and
we will mainly confine our attention to the years we have been just
considering, supplemented by certain figures relating to the ten
years preceding — namely, 1880-1889. We will begin with our exports
of cotton, dividing them into two classes — ^woven cloth, and yam;
and estimating them by two standards — namely, those of value and
quantity. (For figures prior to 1889, see Mulhall, DtctUmofy of
Statistics, pp. 168, 159.)
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1905 A GUIDE TO THE ' STATISTICAL ABSTRACT' 1017
CJottou Cloth
Yarn
Mlllioas of yds.
Value
MilUonsoflbs.
Yalne
1880
1887
1889 .. .
1903 ...
4,500
4,900
5,000
5,100
57,000,000
51,000,000
58,000.000
66,000,000
216
251
252
150
£
18,000,000
19,000,000
11,000,000
7,000,000
These figures have not been picked out with a view to representing
the history of the cotton trade as less reassuring than it really is.
On the contrary, those years have been chosen which a Free-trader
would fix upon, who wished to present the facts in the most flattering
light. Thus, though in 1880 the value of our cotton exports was
higher than it has ever been since — viz. 75,000,000Z., the quantities
in 1887 were greater, though the value was 5,000,0001. less. A similar
observation applies to 1889, when a further fall in total value was
accompanied by a slight increase in quantity. Prom 1889 to 1903,
the quantities (i.e. yards of piece goods plus lbs, of yarn) varied from
5,252 millions in 1889 (which for purposes of comparison we may
call 52) up to 55 and 56 in 1894 and 1899 ; and down to 49 and 48 in
1897 and 1893, the total quantity for 1903 being somewhat less than
that for 1889. If, neglecting quantities, we make our comparison in
values, we shall find that out of the thirteen years between 1889 and
1903, the total value of the exports in nine of them was less than it was
in 1889, whilst it was greater in 1903 thaiU in 1899 only in the pro-
portion of 73 to 69, and was less than in 1880 in the proportion of 73
to 75. Let us, then, turn and twist the figures in any way we please,
it is impossible to escape the fact that the value of our cotton trade
has declined since 1880, whilst its volume, in spite of certain ups
and downs, has remained practically the same from 1887 to 1903.
As to woollen cloth and yarn, the case is even simpler. The value of
exports in 1889 was 25,000,000?. ; in 1903 it was 20,000,000^. The
volume fell in the proportion of 311 to 232.
Our linen exports, in point of value, were 5,700,000Z. in 1890.
In 1903 they were 5,500,000Z. In volume, they fell in the proportion
of 193 to 168.
Our silk exports fell in value during the same period from 2,000,00W.
to 1,600,00W. ; and in point of volume, in the proportion of 10 to 9.
Our jute exports fell in value from 3,100,00W. to 2,500,000Z. ; and
in volume, in the proportion of 299 to 257.
The general result of the above facts is as follows :
The total value of our export trade in all yams and piece goods
sank from 105,000,000/. in 1880, to 103,000,000?. in 1903.
The total volume of the same trade (estimated in yards of piece
goods plus lbs. of yarn) sank from 1889 to 1903 in the proportion of
60 to 58.
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1018 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBY Dec.
(Let the reader who wishes to verify these facts turn to Statiaioal
Abttract, Tables 43 and 44 ; or, for years prior to 1889, to HulhaU's
Didumary of Statistics, edition 1902, articles Flax, Wool, Commeroe,
Manufactures, Cotton).
Let us now turn to our metallic exports. Here we have a total of
65,000,0001. for 1903, as against 58,000,0001. for 1889. The chaotic
entries in the Statistical Abstract show, when analysed, that this
increment is produced thus :
Shmwtan
increase of
£
Pig and bar iron 1,000,000
Bar steel 900,000
Galvanised plates 2,000,000
Steam engines and looomotives 1,500,000
Other machinery and implements 2,400,000
Electrical apparatus 1,200,000
Scientific instruments 800,000
Iron wire 300,000
Tubes and pipes 1,000,000
Manufactores of other metals 1,000,000
We here have a total increase of more than 11,000,0001. ; but from
this must be deducted a decrease in the three following industries :
Rails, chairs and sleepers, 1,000,0002. ; tinned plates, over 2,000,0001. ;
cutlery and hardware, nearly 1,000,0002. — ^the total decrease amount-
ing to about 4,000,0002., and the net increase to 7,000,0002.
To the increase in our coal exports — 13,000,0002. — ^we will recur
presently. The increments in the more important of the other indus-
tries named are as follows :
Sliow an
iuomseof
£
Preserved or prepared provisions 7,000,000
Cheap ready-made clothing, not including haberdashery 2,000,000
Chemicals, dyes, &c 8,000,000
Paper and stationery 500,000
Leather goods 200,000
In seven other industries, whose total exports are worth less than
any of the above — ^namely, manures, floorcloth, soap, tobacco, books,
and grease — ^the relative increase is on the whole greater. Indeed,
apart from textiles, the only important industries which show a
positive decrestse in exports are cutlery, haberdashery, glass and china.
There are, however, other industries in which the increase has been
so small, and so wholly out of proportion to the growth of the popula-
tion and its demands, that, for the purpose of a comparison which we
will now proceed to make, they deserve to be classed among the
industries whose exports have positively declined. This is a com-
parison between our exports in these and certain other trades, €md our
imports of corresponding kinds. The following table gives the fttOs
and rises in 1903 as compared with 1889 :
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1905 A aUIDB TO THE * STATISTICAL ABSTRACT ' 1019
Haberdaahery
Cutlery .
China .
Glass
Linen mannfactnres
Silk mannfactures^
Fall of Exports
Paper .
Leather goods
Cotton goods .
Machinery, Ac.
£
1,000,000
1,000,000
400,000
100,000
200,000
1,100,000
Rlra of ExportH
500,000
200,000
4,000,000
8,900,000
Rise of Iiu porta
£
1,000,000
700,000
450,000
600,000
500,000
500,000'
2,800,000
900,000
8,000,000
6,500,000
These tables are not exhaustive. Their object is to point out to the
inquirer the classes of facts which demand attention, if any opinion
worth having as to the matters in question is to be arrived at, and to
show him the way in which the requisite information is to be gained.
The particular facts, however, which have been just set forth are
typical, and actually comprise those that are most important. We
will now consider what general moral is to be drawn from them.
GENERAL SIGNIFIOAKOE OF THE FACTS AS ABOVE SUMMARISED
In the first place — ^to repeat what I have said before — they convey
a warning to the more extreme advocates of protection, who are apt
to caricature the disease, in order to recommend their remedy for it.
The more carefully the facts on which we have been dwelling are
examined, the more clearly do they show that the industries of this
country, as tested by our export and import trade, are absolutely
(if we take them as a whole) advancing and not declining. There is,
however, to a really ominous extent, an absolute decline or stagnation
in certain individual industries. The absolute general advance has
not kept pace with the population ; it thus constitutes a relative,
though not an absolute, decline ; and the increase in the importation
of many manufactured goods, of a kind which we manufacture and
dlso consume ourselves, and which thus compete directly with our
own products, shows how the expansion of our industries, in respect
of these, is checked. Thus, not only have our exports of cutlery
fallen by 1,000,0001., but our imports have increased by 700,000Z.
Our exports of paper and stationery have increased by 500,000/. ;
but our imports of these goods (which presumably we might make
for ourselves) have increased meanwhile to nearly six times that
amount. The only two manufacturing trades of any considerable
volume which have, to a marked degree, increased faster than the
population, are those of cheap ready-made clothing and prepared
and preserved provisions, of which one shows an increase of 2,000,0002.,
the other of 7,000,0002.^ with no important increase of competing
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THE NINETEENTH CENTURY
Dec.
imports to set i^^ainst them. On the other hand, oar metallic indus-
tries, which are incomparably greater than either of the two preceding,
exhibit, like the provision trade, an increase of 7,000,0002. only;
whereas, merely to have kept pace with the population, the increase
should have been almost 8,000,0002. At the same time, whilst our
metallic exports have increased by one-eighth only, our imports of
foreign manufactures have increased by 300 per cent. When we
come to the great textile industries, we are, more directly than we are
in the metallic, confronted by two alternatives. We must measure
them either by quantity or by value. If we measure our cotton
exports by value, we shall find that cotton piece goods and yam were,
in 1903, greater in value by 4,000,000Z. than they were in 1889, and
greater by 3,000,0001. than they were in 1887 ; they were less by
2,000,0001. than they were in 1880 ; whilst if we estimate them in
terms of quantity — namely, lbs. of yam and yards of cloth — ^though
considerabl;^ greater than they were in 1880, they were in 1903 some-
what less than they were in 1889, and almost exactly equal to what
they were in 1887. That is to say, their value has fallen during a
period of twenty-four years, and their value has been practically
stationary for a period of eighteen years. Our other textile exports
have, as has been said already, so fallen since 1889, in value and
quantity alike, that there has been in both respects a net decrease
on the whole ; and there has meanwhile been an increase in the corre-
sponding imports as follows : Cotton goods, 3,000,0002. ; linen goods,
500,0002. ; silk, 500,0002. ; jute goods, 700,0002., since 1897 (not pre-
viously distinguished in the Statistical Abstract from raw material) ;
and in woollen goods, 3,000,0002. (This last increase has been
ingeniously hidden by the compilers of the Stati^ical Abstract, who
have, for the year 1903, transferred 3,044,0002., included in the
previous woollen returns, to another heading altogether — ^namely, that
of Apparel.) The significance of the facts just stated, with r^;aid
both to textile and metallic exports, will be better understood if we
present in a tabular form the whole value of the corresponding imports,
not merely their increase. The figures refer to the year 1903.
Cotton piece goods .
Yalne of all Exports
£
66,000,000
£ 1
5,800,000
Yam ....
7,000,000
140,000
Woollen piece goods, &c.
15,000,000
12,000,000
Yam ....
4,000,000
2,000,000 1
Silk piece goods
1,400,000
12,000,000 '
Yam ....
250,000
650,000
Linen goods ....
6,600,000
800,000
Yam ....
800,000
1,000,000
Jnte piece goods
Yam ....
2,000,000
2,800,000
6,000,000
Not distingnished
Metallic goods
65,000,000
18,000,000 (not ores)
China, glass, paper, and leather
goods (gloves excluded)
8,600,000
10,800,000
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1905 A GUIDE TO THE ' STATISTICAL ABSTBACT ' 1021
The value of the above exports is about 190,000»000{.; that of
the corresponding imports is about 60,000,000?. Let us reconsider
the significance of both sets of figures.
The exports just mentioned form two- thirds of the whole, and are
typical of it. If the above figures relating to them are compared
with those for 1889, they illustrate afresh the broad general fact
already insisted on — namely, that, though since 1889 our exports
have increased by the large total of 42,000,000?,, this absolute increase,
if compared with the increase of our population, sinks to a relative
increase of not more than 8,000,0002. Further, of this nominal
increase of 8,000,000!., about 4,000,000!. was made up of ships, which
were not included amongst our exports until a very few years ago.
If, therefore, the figures f6r 1903 are to be compared with those for
1889, ships must be excluded from the later year as they were from
the earher. The relative increase in our exports will accordingly
sink from 8,000,000Z. to 4,000,0002. And now, in connection with
this, a further fact must be noted. Of the absolute excess of imports
for 1903 over those for 1889, 13,000,0002. consisted of an increase
in our exports of coal. In other words, apart from this increase in
our coal exports, the relative total increase of 4,000,0002. would
transform itself into a relative total decrease of 9,000,0002. We
will not insist, as certain tariff-reformers have mistakenly done, that
coal is a raw material, and represents a lower form of industry than
manufactures. The principal value of coal resides in the industry
which extracts it, just as the principal value of engines resides in the
industry that makes them. What makes the case of coal peculiar
is that it is, to a unique degree, an exhaustible and irreplaceable
product ; and that in proportion as we rely on our coal exports to
make good a decline in others, we are relying on an export which will
not only exhaust itself, but will deprive us of our means of producing
our other exports also. Relatively, then, to the population, our exports
from 1889 to 1903 have, to say the best of them, been little better
than stationary ; and it is only by an enormous increase in this most
dangerous export, coal, that they have been saved from a relative
decline of about 3 J per cent.
The optimists of Free Trade, however, are accustomed to take
refuge in vague statements, which, on the whole, have nothing but
conjecture to support them, to the effect that, even if our export trade
should be declining, our home trade is increasing, which, after all, is
the* great thing. Let us turn to the table of imports which has just been
given, and ask how far it bears out comfortable statements such as these.
Does the home trade in cotton increase ? To speak roughly, the
home consumption of cotton goods is about a third of the goods
exported. We may put its present value at some 22,000,0002. How
can we suppose that this has any tendency to increase when the
quantity of home products consumed in this country has to be supple-
mented by imports of foreign cotton goods, to the value of 5,300,0002. ?
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1022 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Dec.
In the woollen trade the home consumption has always been
greater in proportion to the exports than in the cotton trade ; but
while our exports of woollen goods have foUen, what sign is tiiere
that tiie home demand for them is increasing ? An answer to thb
question is to be found in the fact that nearly half the woollen goods
we consume are the products of foreign looms. The value of these
woollen goods was, in 1903, 12,000,0001. ; and this sum> as compared
with the consumption in 1889, shows not only an absolute increase,
but an increase relative to the population.
As to the home trade in metallic goods, it will be enough to say
here that, whatever we may make for ourselves, there is a yearly
increase in the quantity which we import from other countries. Our
exports during fifteen years have, relatively to the population, not
quite held their own. Our imports of these substitutes for home-
made commodities have meanwhile trebled themselves.
The other goods mentioned in our table tell the same story. The
home market is so far from expanding that (except in the case of
jute manufactures) there is increasing room and demand for goods
that are made abroad.
Our table, which is far from complete, shows that foreign goods
enter this country to the value of 60,000,0001., the majority of whidi
goods might presumably be made at home, and to stimulate the home
manufacture of which is the tarifi reformer's object.
As I said at starting, it has not been my object in this paper to
exhibit Protection as a remedy for the industrial maladies from which
this country is sufEering. I have only sought to show that, apart
from all the exaggerations and hasty statements of alarmists, maladies
do exist which, when reduced to tiieir smallest proportions, are of a
grave character already, and, if not dealt with in time, threaten to
become graver ; and that even should we concede for the moment
that the remedies of the Protectionist are ridiculous, the optinusm of
the Free-traders is more ridiculous stilL
Free-traders have lately been making much of the increase in
certain exports during the past eighteen months. That the very
party which has so consistently emphasised the worthlessness of
single-year comparisons should now resort to them in an exaggerated
form, is an illustration of the weakness rather than the strength of
their position ; but I cannot enter further on this point here. There
is another point, yet more important, which must be reserved for
future treatment. Free-traders insist that the export trade of the
country must be prosperous, because there is an increase in our imports,
and there can (so they say) ' be no exporting without importing.'
A more childish and ludicrous fallacy than this it is impossible to
imagine. I have exposed it before ; I hope shortly to do so again.
W. H. Mallock.
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1906
THE POLITICAL SITUATION
It naturally gives me great satisfaction to find that the views I ex-
pressed in this Beview last month have been repeated with far greater
authority and power by the acknowledged Leader of the Liberal
Party. In his recent speech at Portsmouth Sir Henry Campbell-
Bannerman gave his adhesion to the foreign policy of Lord Lansdowne
and his followers will have observed the grounds on which he rested
his approval. It was not, he said, because he believed in the principle
of continuity. The sooner a bad foreign policy was changed the better.
It was because he believed Lord Lansdowne's policy to be sound, wise,
and Liberal. Nothing could have been clearer, more definite or more
explicit than his language. No Englishman, whatever his politics,
no foreigner, whatever his feelings towards this country, will be able
agsdn, truthfully or credibly, to say that if a Liberal Government
came into office the French understanding or the Japanese Alliance
would be less cordially promoted and sustained. If, not through any
weight which belongs to my opinion, but through the influence exer-
cised by this Keview, I have been able to assist in producing such a
result, I feel that I have done something for Liberalism, and some-
thing for the public good.
Although foreign affairs have thus been removed from the sphere
of controversial politics, there are many other subjects which divide
parties acutely enough. For the moment, however, they have all
been superseded by the singular crisis within the Cabinet itself. This
crisis has, so far as I am aware, no historical parallel from which
practical guidance can be drawn. When Mr. Chamberlain resigned
the Colonial Office two years and a half ago, it was arranged that he
and the Prime Minister should work together from different platforms
for the attainment of a common end. As a pledge of Mr. Chamber-
lain's sincerity, and a guarantee of Mr. Balfour's good faith, the Chan-
cellorship of the Exchequer, which had not hitherto been regarded
as a good example for the application of the hereditary principle,
was conferred upon Mr. Chamberlain's son. That excellent young
man, in whom there is no guile, has since conscientiously admimstered
a Cobdenite system of finance, though not concealing his opinion
1028
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1024 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Dec
that under its perniciouB influence we have already lost our trade in
iron, and are rapidly losing our trade in cotton. After all, his father
says so, and it would not be right that he should look beyond his father.
But his father has lately been saying some other things. Mr. Chamber-
lain is tired of looking on. Posterity is all very well, but what has
posterity done for him ? To use his own elegant phrase, he is a champion
hustler, whose motto has always been large profits and quick returns.
Soon after his holiday he broke out at Birmingham, and announced
that the Session of 1905 had been a humiliating one. He said nothing
of it at the time. But subsequent reflection, or the waters of Aix,
or the rather too straightforward language of Lord Londonderry,
have brought it out. The Prime Minister repUed at Newcastle to
this singular and rather belated attack with surprising meekness.
He had not, he said, run away from the House of Commons because
he was afraid of his opponents, but because he was afraid of his
friends. I am not aware that any other theory of his action had
ever been held. But Mr. Balfour might have remembered that
Mr. Chamberlain was a very bad man to run away from. He might
also have taken to heart a remarkable saying of Mr. Gladstone, the
embodiment of Parliamentary courage. 'Anyone can stand up
to his opponent,' said Mr. Gladstone ; ' give me the man who can
stand up to his friends.' It is because he could do that that
Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman now leads the Liberal party, and
has a party to lead. After this rather pitiful apology Mr. Balfour
made a pathetic appeal. What, he asked, was the use of Unionists
if they could not unite ? Free Trade was the enemy. Let them
join in cursing Cobden and they could settle details afterwards at
comfortable leisure. But this would not do for Mr. Chamberlain.
It was not good enough. No half-measures for him. Taxes, more
taxes, must be clapped on at once. When people are perishing for
want of taxation, it is idle mockery to offer them a mere hope of
preference in the future. They want more taxes at once, and if
Mr. Chamberlain should be returned to power they would have them
with a vengeance. His scheme would at once raise an enormous
revenue from foreign goods (?), and entirely exclude them from com-
peting in the markets at home with the produce of honest British
labour.
Mr. Chamberlain's second speech, delivered at Bristol, is not, I
believe, regarded by pedantic students of economic science as logically
coherent in all its parts. But it has had more immediate effect than
the WedUli of Nations itself. It has led the Prime Minister, in time-
honoured jargon, to reconsider his position. Some of his most &uthfiil
supporters in the Press urge him to resign forthwith. Others advise
him to dissolve Parliament as soon as possible after the New Tear.
If he should take the second course, the most hostile critic would not
have a word to say. It would be a straightforward, manly, honourable
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1906 THE POLITICAL SITUATION 1026
step, and, wliatever might be the lesult, Ur. Balfour would have no
cause for self-reproach. January is the best month in the year for
a general election, because the register is new and the largest number
of qoalified electors can vote. If, on the other hand, Mr. Balfour
resigns, it can only be because his Cabinet is at sixes and sevens.
There is no precedent, and, what is more important, there can be no
excuse, for a Minister with a majority in the House of Commons,
himself in good health, with the prerogative of dissolution in his
hands, abandoning his post. The Times has quoted the case of Lord
Melbourne in 1834. But Lord Melbourne was dismissed. It may be
that he invited dismissal by too candidly acquainting the King with
the difficulties which Lord Althorpe's removal from the House of
Commons made. But dismissed he was ; and if he had gone down
to Windsor to resign without saying a word to any of his colleagues,
which is the alternative theory, he would have been guilty of the
grossest treachery to them. Such a thing is inconceivable, and so is
an unconstitutional exercise of power by the present King. The
idea that the resignation of a Prime Minister, which puts an end to
the (Government, can be the sole act of the Minister himself is a wild
paradox indeed. Mr. Morley's Life of Oladstone, not a very recondite
source of information, will show that the alternative of resigning or
dissolving was submitted by Mr. Gladstone to his colleagues after the
defeat of the Irish University Bill in 1873, and of the Home Rule Bill
in 1886. Mr. Balfour's motive for resigning on the present occasion
is said to be that Mr. Chamberlain has more influence with the Con-
servative party (a Unionist party without the Duke of Devonshire,
Lord Goschen, and Lord James seems absurd) than himself, and ought
therefore to lead it. If this be so, the logical consequence seems clear,
and the new Prime Minister should be Mr. Chamberlain. This is
rather a delicate matter. The opinion of a great statesman with long
practical experience of affairs is worth on such a question far more
than any book on what they call constitutional law. Sir Robert Peel
said in the House of Commons that the choice of a new Minister was
the one spontaneous act of the Crown. In performing it the Sovereign
was not bound to take the advice of the retiring Minister, or of any
other person whatsoever. Anyone for whom the King sends becomes,
according to Peel, responsible for his Majesty's act in sending for him.
Would Mr. Chamberlain accept ? If he did not, he would forfeit his
reputation as the strong man who knows his own mind and is not
afraid of consequences. If he did, he could, I suppose, reckon upon
the whole of the present Cabinet except Lord Londonderry, Lord
Salisbury, and Lord Stanley, unless, indeed, Mr. Gerald Balfour, who
can split a hair as well as most men, perceives some subtle distinction,
between his brother's policy and Mr. Chamberlain's. Free-traders,
at all events, need not trouble themselves about these distinctions
without a difference. I trust that I am not unduly suspicious in
Vou LVIII— Na 846 8 X
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lOM THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Dec.
bdieving it not impossible that tiie whole of this p^iormaDce between
the ostensible riyals may have been privately rehearsed. It may
ooQoeivably be the Ofonion of those best qualified to judge that Mr.
Chamberlain as Premier would excite more enthusiasm among Pro-
tectionists than Mr. Balfour could, and bring more voters to the
polls. If, however, he were to take office in joesent circnmstances, he
would run the risk of being a more transient embarrassed phantom
than Lord Qoderich himself.
Some think that the King might send for Lord Rosebecy as the
only man who has been Prime Ifinister before. This does not seem
to me a compliment. Lord Bosebery has had a most suooessfol
campaign in Cornwall, delighting his audiences with his vivacity and
wit. But he has not been a leader since 1896, and he has rqieatedly
disclaimed the wish to resume his former position. He prefeors greater
freedom and less responsibility. When a gentleman makes a state-
ment, it is usual to beUeve him, and for my part I cannot help thinking
the custom a good one.
About the feeling of the Liberal party th^e can be no doubt.
Even those who have not always agreed with him respect tiie courage,
the patittioe, the imperturbable temper, the unswerving fiddity to
principle, which throughout his pubUc Hfe, and especially for the
last five years, Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman has displa}^. If
Mr. Balfour resigns office instead of dissolving Parliament, he will
lose the confidence of many who might otherwise have supported
him. For a (Government with a majority of seventy in the House of
Commons to confess that it cannot go on is an exhibition of pinllan-
imity seldom equalled, and never surpassed. Mr. Balfour^s object
in adopting that alternative could only be to put his succesaoiB in a
difficulty, or, as the vulgar say, in a hole. But paltry dodges of tiiis
sort never pay. The public are not fools, and see t^irou^ ihem at
once. Everybody knows that Mr. Balfour's proper course is to
dissolve, and, if he did not, would say simply that he funked. There
is only one imaginable contingency in which such a trick might suooeed,
and that is if the Liberal leader hesitated to aocept office. That
would indeed be fatal. Ever since May 1903, libcaral members oi
Parliament, Liberal candidates. Liberal newspapers have been calHng
for an immediate disscdution in order that the country might say
whether Free Trade should be abandoned and a protective tariff
revived. The new Minister would, of course, be able to dissolve
Parliament so soon as the new regieiter came into operaticm upon Ae
1st of January. To let such a golden opportunity slip would be
'showing the white feather,' as Mr. Gladstone called it, tl^ one
political ofiEence that Englishmen never pardon. Fifty ingemons
excuses would not make the slightest impression upon the average
elector. He would simply say, ' They daren't^' or ' They oanV <^i^
draw his own condusions. Two instances may be quoted on the
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1906 THE POLITICAL SITUATION 1027
other side. Lord John Russell failed to form a Government when
Sir Robert Peel resigned in 1845. Mr. Disraeli would not even attempt
it when Mr. Gladstone resigned in 1873. Neither Russell nor Disraeli
appeared to sufEer in consequence. The Whig Government of 1846
lasted for more than five years, and the Conservative Gk>vemment of
1874 for more than six. But the circumstances of both cases were
very different from the present state of things. If Peel could have
kept his Cabinet together, he would have proposed and carried the
abolition of the Com Laws without resigning at all. This would
undoubtedly have been a very strong step — the most complete sub-
ordination of party to country since party government began. Peel's
justification is that he believed, if he did not know, that he could
force Free Trade through the House of Lords, and that the Whigs
could not. He gave up his original design because the Duke of
Wellington was hostile and Lord Stanley actually left the Cabinet.
Lord John Russell did his best to form an administration, and was
only prevented by the obstinate refusal of Lord Grey. Lord Grey
was the staunchest of Free-traders. But he would not then join a
(Government in which Lord Palmerston was Foreign Secretary, and
the Foreign Office was the only place which Palmerston would take.
Through the indiscretion of Macaulay the facts came out, and Lord
John was exonerated from blame. There was no (General Election
for a year and a half, until the Whigs had been in for a year, and the
details of the transaction were half forgotten. But, nevertheless,
throughout the Parliament of 1847, which sat till 1862, the Whigs
were dependent upon the support of the Peelites. The parallel of
1873 is a closer one, because Disraeli definitely refused to accept
office, though he could have dissolved Parliament at once. He had
defeated the Liberal Government in the House of Commons on the
Irish University Bill, because on that question, and on that alone, he
had received some Liberal support. The victory was not due in any
way to him. The Bill had excited the animosity of many English
Liberals, and of some Irish Catholics. Neither Mr. Disraeli nor his
followers had been demanding a dissolution, and the mere fact of
voting against a Bill which they thought bad did not make them
candidates for office. The moral authority of the present Government
to remain in power after propounding a new fiscal policy has been
challenged by the present Opposition from the first, and almost every
by-election has added to the force of the plea. If their leaders were
to say now that the time was inconvenient, they would expose them-
selves to the ridicule that kiUs.
What the consequences of refusal would be I do not pretend to say.
In 1845 Peel resumed office, and retained it till June 1846, when he
was beaten in the House of Commons, on an Irish Coercion Bill, by a
combination of Protectionists and Repealers. There was no appeal
to the country till the summer of 1847. In 1873 Gladstone, who had
3x2
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1028 THE NINETEENTH OENTUBY Dec.
resigned on the 13th of March, oontinaed to be Prime Minister for
die remainder of the Session, and suddenly dissolved Parliament in
January 1874, when, no doubt, the Conservatives obtained a large
majority. In neither case, it will be observed, was there any inmiediate
dissolution. In both the retiring Minister came back on titie principle,
enunciated by the Duke in 1845, that * the Queen's [(»r King's] govern-
ment must be carried on.' Mr. Balfour might of course dissdve in
January if lus opponents declined to succeed him. If he did so, he
would be certain to say that he was the only possible Minister, and a
number of people would believe him.
He ihat will not when he may,
When he will, he shall have nay.
A homely familiar couplet, with a vast amount of sense in it. It is
so simple and obvious as to be quite beneath the notice of those
^representative Liberals' not Liberal representatives, who have
the pleasure on these occasions of reading their names in the evening
papers. After all, Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman is not fond of
shirking or of running away. Those who do not wish to serve under
him are as free as the rest of their fellow-coimtrymen. The gaps
would soon be filled. Mark Pattison may not have been tliinlnng
of public life, but he uttered words upon which all politiGians should
meditate when he said, 'Take the estimate you set upon yourself
in your most depressed moments, extract the cube root of it, and
you will find your real value in the world.' The vain and the vulgar
are always making themselves ridiculous because they forget tiiat
truth or do not know it. Simple and natural people, like the Leader of
the Opposition, stick to their work and do their duty, and in the long
run the laugh is always on their side. If there is one reason stronger
than another for the universal regret which Lord Spencer's illness has
evoked from aU sorts and conditions of men, it is that in the loyal
discharge of public obligations he never thought of himself. Wh^i
Lord Spencer was Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland in the darkest days of
1882, he had arranged to do business at the Castle, and ride ba^ to
the Viceregal Lodge in the Phoenix Park. When the time came
for him to leave the Castle, he was told that there was a dangerous
crowd in the streets and that he had better wait for a carriage with
an escort of soldiers. He replied that he never changed his plans, and
in the face of the crowd he mounted his horse. The result was curious.
As the Lord-Lieutenant rode slowly between threatening ranks there
was a spontaneous cheer. The people detested his policy and the
Government of which he was a member, but they respected a man.
This, be it remembered, was after the murder of Lord Frederick
Cavendish and Mr. Burke.
The wiseacres tell one, or at least one hears them saying, that it
would be much easier to form a Government after a general electicm
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1906 THE POLITICAL SITUATION 1029
I daieBay it would. It would liave been mnoh easier for Lord Spencer
to wait for his carriage, and he could always have said that it was
wrong to expose so valuable a life as his own. But I do not think
that these fluent philosophers reahse how sick the man in the street
is of dodges, and moves, and counter-moves, and cliques and coteries,
and holes and comers, and wirepulling, and intrigue. The feeling
amounts to physical nausea. Since the month of May 1903 it has
been impossible to extract from the Prime Minister of this country a
plain answer to a plain question, or even a statement of what he means
by Free Trade. So far as the pubUc can judge, so far as the con-
stituencies can express their opinion, they want to turn him out at
<mce, and his colleagues also. H Mr. Amold-Forster be right in saying
that his opponents are the friends of the enemies of the people of
England, then the people of England are the friends of their own
enemies. John Bull has a tingling sensation in his right toe. He
wants what the French call maison nette^ and we call a dean sweep.
A half -sheet of notepaper has become a symbol for concentrated
ambiguity, packed shuffling, which Mr. Balfour has failed to extenuate
by shuffling the pack. 'Stand not upon the order of your going,
but go at once.' But there is coming as well as going. One set of
Ministers cannot go unless another set are ready to come. If they
were not ready, the public would be as much disgusted with them
as with their predecessors, and might possibly come to the conclu-
sion that party was humbug. That arcanum imperii should be left
to stand in its proper darkness. Lord Salisbury, who was not always
a very bold man, did not hesitate for a moment to take office in 1895.
If he had, he would, like the proverbial woman, have been lost. He
formed his Qovemment, and then at once dissolved. 'My lords,'
he said from his place in Parliament, 'our policy is dissolution.'
Dissolution is not a policy, perhaps. But it was enough ; it served, and
the majority thus obtained lasted, with the help of a war, for no less
a time than ten years. Had Lord Salisbury drawn back, the result
would in all probabihty have been very different indeed. If Lord
Rosebery had gone to the country, instead of going under, many
Liberal seats might have been saved.
The end of Lord Rosebery's progress through Cornwall was char-
acteristically unexpected. Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman told his
constituents in the Stirling Burghs a few nights ago that he adhered
to the opioions on the Irish question which he expressed in 1886 and
1893. Lord Rosebery calls this holding up a banner, and says that
it is a banner imder which he wiU not serve. Few things in politics
are more mischievous than metaphors. Sir Henry did not say that
he should feel it his duty to introduce a Home Rule Bill in the next
Parliament, or that] the next Government ought to consist entirely
of Home Rulers. He simply declared that he had not changed his
mind since the death of Mr. Gladstone. Lord Rosebery has, for
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1080 THE NINETEENTH CENTUBT Dec. 1905
reasons which appear to him sufficient. But he can hardly mean
to suggest tliat every Liberal Minister should in future be required to
renounce Home Rule. He might as well insist upon approval of tdie
policy which led to the South African War. That Home Rule in
Mr. Gladstone's sense, Home Rule which involves the restoration of
an Irish Legislature, can be adopted by the next Parliament is out
of the question. Mr. Chamberlain has made it impossible by raising
an issue which takes precedence of it and must be decided first. If
there were no other obstacle, it is absolutely certain that the House of
Lords would throw out any Home Rule Bill which had not been in
its main features approved by a majority of British electors. Thus tiie
subject is not within the range of practical pditics unless, indeed, all
parties should agree to a constitutional settlement. The presence of
Sir Antony MacDonnell at Dublin Oastie suggests the sort of adminis-
trative reform which a Liberal Government might in the near future
carry out. Meanwhile it is a strai^ ground of complaint agunst a
responsible statesman that he holds a conviction which he held twenty
years ago. Free Trade is a good deal older than that, and yet adhesion
to it does not show incapacity for moving with the times. If it was
a mistake to adopt Home Rule in 1866, and stand by it for t^i years,
the mistake was so tremendous as to be a source of penitence rather
than pride. Sir Henry OampbeU*Bannerman is impenit^it. But in
enunciating a principle he is not drafting a Bill. The first and great
question for the country to dedde is between a tariff tat private
interest and a tariff for public revenue. If taxes are good things in
thenuselves, and foreign trade is an unnecessary evil, Mr. Chamberiain
has proved his case. Sir Henry CampbeU-Bannerman and Lord
Roeebery agree in thinking otherwise, much as they may differ about
Home Rule.
Herbert Paul.
EfT€Uwn0
In the article in the November number on ' Germany and War Sowee in
England,* by Earl Blind, there is, on p. 704, line 27, a miqarint which wholly
alters the meaning. Instead of ' JET^ is one noted,* etc., read ' It is one noted.*
The Editor of The Ndteteenth Century cannot vauieriake
to r6twm wnaecepted M88.
Digitized by VjOOQlC
INDEX TO VOL. LVIII
The titles of articles are printed in italics
ABB
ABBOTSFORD library, The, of Sir
Walter Scott, 621-683
Accadian Creation-myth, 26S^264
Actors and actresses on and off the
stage, 958-965
Africa, Central, Wild nature in,' 980-
991
Aga Ehan (His Highness the), The
Defence of IncUa, 867-875
All (Ameer), An Indiwn Retrospect
and Some Comments, 607-620
Aliens, white and yellow, excluded
from Australasia, 198-208
Almack*s Club and the Macaronis,
278-289
Anglo-French * Entente,* The FaU of
M. Deloassi and the, 22-88
Anglo-French understanding. The,
858-864
Anglo-Japanese alliance, 518-528, 858-
864
Aoyagi: The Story of a Japcmese
Heroine, 427-488
Argyll (Duke of), NaUonal Defence— a
CiviUwCs Impression, 62-66
Army, Hcwe we an, 461-467
Athanasian Creed, The Deans and
the, 729-784, 1002-1007
Australasia, The White Peril in, 198-
208
Australia, The Foundation of the
Church of England in, 127-181
Australian bush, Life in the, 815-826
Australian Labour Party, 827-887
Austrian aristocracy. The old, 214-227
Avebury (Lord), The Beoent Increase
inSwnday Trading, 484-441 ; TJie
Bwoessive National Expenditure,
706-715
BADDELEY (St. Claur), The Sacred
Trees of Boms, 100-115
Baird (Sir iUexander), How Poor-law
Ouardians Spend their Money in
Scotland, 674-676
Bftlibur (Mr.) and the Liberal Unionist
party, 182-197
CAM
Balfour (Mr.) and the work of the
Session, 505-512
— and the Cabinet crisis, 1028-1080
Battleships of the Great Powers com-
pared, 808-818
Beauty, Natural, as a National
Asset, 985-941
Berkeley, The Influence of, 252-258
Berlin, Treaty of. The Secret History
of the— a Talk with the late Lord
Boioton, 88-90
Between Two Trains, 649-656
Biblical and Babylonian accounts of
Creation, 259-266
Birth-rate, The, and restricted fami-
lies in France, 966-978
Blind (Karl), Germany and War
Scares in England, 689-705
Boulger (Demetrius C), Germany and
Belgium, 48-50
Bradley (Miss Kose M.), Da^fs in a
Pans Convent, 742-754
Bribery at elections, 682-688
British industries and the * Statistical
Abstract,' 1008-1022
British naval hero, A, of the eighteenth
century, 468-478
British Navy, The, its maintenance
and repair, 67-82
British •rule in Lidia and the welfare
of the natives, 867-875 ; suggestions
for reform, 607-620
Burial customs of ancient Christian
Rome, 775-789
Burke (Edmund) on the relations
between a Member of Parliament
and his constituents, 677-680
Bush life in North Queensland, 815-
826
Buss (Bev. Septimus), * The Trial of
Jesus; 600-606
BuUer Beport, The, 167-172
pABINET crisis. The, 1028-1080
\J Camargue, The, 267-272
Campbell (Lady Archibald), Impres-
•ional Drama, 204-218
Digitized by VjOOQlC
1082
INDEX TO VOL. LVIII
CAM
Cmnadum Opmion^ Imperial Or gam-
Miium and, 909-017
Cftriile (Bev. ¥mMm), ConUnmM
Lighi on the * Unemployed* Pro-
M#fm 900-908
Oftrlile (WilliMn WAmmd), The
Origin of Money from Ornrnnent^
S90-897
Cervantee' Timu^ A FieoaZ Beformer
o/, 462-460
Ceylon^ HetUhen Biiee and BuperM-
lione in, 182-186
Chftrlet the Seventh of France and
AflMt Sorel, 41&-4S6
Children' $ Happy Bvemnga, 94^960
Ohrielian burial in nndwgroxmd Borne,
776-789
CSirietians, dThe eariy, and the burning
of Rome, 992-1001
Christianity ae a Natural Beligion,
48&-800
ChriiUna'a (Queen) Uiniaiure
Painier, 667-678
Church liuin ae an intellectual exer-
dee for girln, 790-796
Okwreh of England in AuetraUa^
The Fo%mdation of the, 127-181
Church of Kngland, The, Ritualism
and disestablishment, 474-486
Clubs, Some famous, and the Maca-
ronis, 278-289
Colchester (Lord), A Viceroy's Post-
bag, i4&-^l
Cdohester.Wemyss (M. W.), Another
Board of Chuardtane : a Beply to
Mi- SeUerw, 974-979
Colonial Confcarence, The, and an Im-
perial IntelUgence Department, 918-
917
Continental Light on the ' Unem-
ployed ' Problem, 900-908
Contraband of war and stoppage of
food-supplies, 716-728
Cooper (iUezander), miniature painter
to Queen Christma of Sweden, 667-
678
ComerOhlmUtz (Mrs.), Heathen Bites
and Super BtUUms in C0y2an,182-186
Comewawe Monument in West-
minster Abbey, 468-478
Cornwall (Miss Isabel J.), ComewalVs
Monum>ent in Westminster Abbey,
468-478
Cotmtry Parson, A, of the Eighteenth
CenUi/ryt 91-99
Crawfurd (Oswald), Natwre Gardens,
667-666
Crombie (J. W.), A Fiscal Beformer
of Cervantes' Time, 462-460
Crouch (W.)t The Deans and the
Athanasia/n Creed, 1002-1007
Cumming (A. N.), The Secret History
of the Treaty of BerUnr-a Talk
with the late Lord Bowton, 88-90
FIN
Curios and rare books of Sir Walter
Scott, 621-688
DALT (DaBdmek),Madame Tattien,
226-284
Damnatory clauses of the Athanasian
Creed, 729-784
Dawbam (Charles), The Depopulation
Question in France, 966-978
Defence of India, The, 867-876
Defence of the ooxmtry, the duty of
the dtisen, 178-181
Defence of the Empire, 461-467
Deleassi, M^ The FaU of, and the
Anglo-French * Entente,' 22-88
Demon worship in Ceylon, 182-186
Denmark, Bdgium, and Holland,
Belief of the poor in, 906-907
Depopulation Question in France,
The, 9e^97S
Desart (Countess Dowager of). The
Gaelic League, 766-762
I Drama, Popular, mediocrity, and
neglect of noble ideals, 768-774
! Dunraven (EUurl of), Ireland's Finan-
cial Burden, 187-162
J?CLIP8B, The Beeent Total, The
-^ iSim afkf, 918-984
Egypt, the Soudan, and the control of
the waters of the Nile, 846-866
Eighteenth Century, A Country Per-
son of the, 91-99
Eighteenth-Century Episode, An, in
Viennese Court Life, 684-648
> Electors, The Wooing of the, 677-668
Eltzbacher (0.), The German Danger
' to South Africa, 5U-688; Theln-
I demnity due to Japan, 1-21 ; Un-
I emplownent : and the * Moloch of
Free Trade,' 884-899
Ewmire, The True Foundations of:
The Home and the Workshop, 670-
682
Enftranohisement of women, 806-807
England's relations with Germany,
670-706, 866-867
English and European history in
public schools, 688-699
English women of the reign of Queen
Victoria, 961-967
Enroll (Colonel the Earl of). The
Nation and the Army: The I^-
sponsibiUty of the Individual Citi-
sen, 178-177
Excessive National Expenditure, The,
706-716
'TILCTOBY life and its effaots on
J. women and children, 670-682
Fine Arts, A Plea for a Ministry of,
876-888
Digitized by VjOOQlC
INDEX TO VOL. LVIII
1088
FIS
Fiscal oontrovcrsy, The, and the
« Statistioal Abstraot,' 1008-1022
Fi9cdl Beform&r of Cervcmtet* Time,
il, 452-460
FitzCbrald (Admiral C. €. Penrose),
Ha/ve we an Army f 461-467
Fleet, Our, The Provieum for the
Mamtenanee and Bepofirs of, 67-82
Food-sa^W in war time, 716-728
France, The Depopulation Question
in, 966-978
Free Trade and the Government, 545^
660
Free Trade, The ' Moloeh of,' Un-
employment and, 884-899
French and EngUeh Pamtvng, Some,
246-251
French Court, The, and politics under
Louis the Fifteenth, 153-166
French Ministry |of Fine Arts, The,
881-887
French Beisn of Terror, A woman's
romance durine the, 228-284
Frere (Sir BarUe) and South-West
Africa, 537-588
fJAELIO League, The, 755-762
"^ Garstin (Sir William E.), Some
Problems of the Upper Nile, 845-
866
German labour market. The, and un-
employment, 887-892
Germany and Belgium, 43-50
Germany and Morocco, 34-42
Germany and War Scares in Eng-
land, 089-706
Germany's Opportunity, The Contest
for Sea-power, 308-319
Cheat Britain, Germany, and Sea
Power, 51-61
Greville (Lady Violet), Some Seven-
teenth-Centwry Housewives, 796-
814
Guardians, Another Board of: a
Reply to Miss Sellers, 974-97»
HABDWICEE (Lord), first Lrish
Viceroy after the Union, 442-451
Harrison (Austin F.), Germany and
Morocco, 34-42
Harrison (Mrs. Frederic), The Vic-
torian Woman, 951-957
Hebrew, The, and the Babylonian
Cosmologies, 259-266
Herero rising in German South Africa,
The, 524-538
Hill (Miss Octavia), Natural Beauty
as a Natural Asset, 935-941
History, The Study of, in Public
Schools, 583-599
Hoare (H. W.), The Boman Cata-
combs, 775-789
KBO
Home Rule and the Unionist party,
545-558
Housekeeping and National Well-
being, 298-305
Hurd (Archibald &.), The Contest for
Sea-power : Germ>any's Oppor-
tunUy, 308-319
TMPEBIAL Organisation and
-*• Canadian Opinion, 909-917
Impressional Drama, 204<218
India, The Defence of, 867-375
Indian Betrospect and Some Com-
ments, An, 607-620
Litemational law, contraband and
private property, 716-728
Livasion of England, Scares concern-
ing the, 690-705
Ireland after the Union, its first
Viceroy, 442-451
I Lreland and the Government, 183-197,
I 835-340
I Lreland, The Government's policy con-
I ceming, 545-558
I Ireland* s Financial Burden, 137-152
I Lrish ideals and the Gaelic League,
1 755-762 ^
JACKSON (Mrs. Huth), Housekeep-
ing and National Well-being,
298-305
Japan as an ally of England, 513-523
Japan, The Indemnity due to, 1 21
Japanese Heroine, A : The Story of
Aoyagi, 427-433
Jersey (Countess of), Children's Happy
Evenings, 942-950
Jessopp (Bev. Dr.), A Country Parson
of the Eighteenth Century, 91-99
'Jesus, The Trial of,' 600-606
Johnson (Bev. Bichard) end the
Church in Australia, 128-131
Joseph n.. The Emperor, and Princess
Eleonore Liechtenstein, 634 648
KABB (Sir Henry Seton), The
Buptwre between Norway and
Sweden, 539-544
Kemp- Welch (Mrs. W.), Agnen Sorel,
416-426
Kerrich (Dr. Samuel), an eiglf^^eenth-
century Norfolk parson, 91 99
Kimber (Sir Henry), Bedisttihuiion,
838-852
Kingston (Miss Gertrude), Tht Sinck-
SxMe of Success, 1G^774:
Kirwan (Hon. J. W.), The Au.^traJian
Labour Party, 827-837
Kropotkin (Prince), The Bevolu " - ^t in
Bussia, 865-888
Digitized by VjOOQlC
1084
INDEX TO VOL. LVIII
LAB
LABOUB BoreAOt and the un-
employed, 120-122
Labour Pariy in AoBtralia, The, 827-
887
Ladies of the Seventeenth Century,
Some notable, 796-814
Landscape gardens or pleasanoes, 657-
666
Lathbury (D. C), The Boyal Com-
nUuion on EcclenoBUcal IH$ei'
pline, 474-485
Latin for GirU, 790-795
Ledger (Bev. Edmund), The 8wn and
the Recent Total EcUpie, 918-984
Liee maieeti^ majeetae^ or high treason,
the charge against Jesus, 600-606
Liberal Untomet Party, The, 182-197
Liberale and Foreign FoUcy, 858-864
Lichfield, The Dean of, and the
Athanasian Creed, 1002-1007
Liechtenstein (Princess Eleonore) and
the Emperor Joseph II., 684-648
' Little Afinca * on the French Biyiera,
267-272
Locomotion and transport in London,
The Boyal Commission on, 889-402
London, The Traffie of, 889-402
London municipal concert hall,
Scheme for a, 561-569
Lord (Walter Frewen), Count 8t, Paul
in Parie, 158-166
Lord^s Day Obeervixnce, The: aBeply
to Lord Avebury, 785-741
IfACABONIS, The, 278-289
-^^ MacDonagh (Michael), 'Mr.
&i>ea1cer,* 820-884; The Wooing of
the Electore, 677-688
Maohray (Bobert), Cheat Britam,
Germany, wnd Sea Power, 51-61
Mahommedan heirs and British Indian
courts ofjustice, 618-620
Mallook (W. H.), Ohrietianity as a
Natural BeUgion, 486-500; A
OtUde to the ' StatieHcfd Abstract,*
1008-1022
Marten (C. H. E.), The Study of
History in PubUo Schools, 588-599
Maxwell-Scott (Hon. Mrs.), Sir Walter
Scott on his * Gabions,* 621-688
Military training for our youth, 65-
66, 178-181, 461-467
• Mr. Speaker,* 820-884
Mitchell (Isaac H.), Organised Labour
and the Unemployed Problem, 116-
126
Money, The Origin of, from Orna-
ment, 290-^m
Morocco, An Autumn Wandering in,
285-245
Municipal Concert HaUfor London,
A, 561-569
PAU
; l\rATION andthe Army, The : The
' -^^ BesponsibiUty of the Indimdual
, CiHzen, 178-181
National Defence — a Civilian's Im-
' i>r0Mion, 62-66
I National Expenditure, The Excessive,
, 706-715
Nature Gardens, 657-666
I Naval armaments, Limitation of, 308-
818
Nero, the Christians, and the burning
of Bome, 992-1001
* Never Never,* Out on the, 815-826
New Alliance, The, 518-528
New Zealand Immigration Act and
the exclusion of aliens, 198-208
Norfolk parsons of the Georgian era,
91-99
North Africa, With a caravan in, 285-
245
NorvHiy and Sweden, The Bupture
between, 539^644
Notre Dame de Bon Seoours, Life at
the Convent of, 742-754
Nyevelt (Baroness Suzette de Zuylen
de). An EiglUeenth- Century Epi-
sode in Viennese Court Life, 6^-
648
0'
^PEN spaces and historic sites.
Society for the preservation at,
985-941
Organised Labour and the Unan-
ployed Problem, 116-126
Over-taxation and pauperism, 706-715
Over-taxation of Ireland, 187-152
Ozaki (Miss Yei Theodora), Aoyagi :
The Story of a Japanese Heroine^
427-488
PAGET (Lady), Vanishing Vienna:
a Betrospeet, 214-227
Paget (Stephen), The InfUunee of
B0rX(e%, 252-258; LaUn for GirU,
790-795
Padntimg, Some French and English,
246-251
Paris Convent, Days in a, 742-754
Pttris, Count St. Paul in^ 15&-166
Parliament and politics, 885-844, 505-
512, 545-560, 858-864, 1028-1080
Parliament and the Speaker, 820-884
Parliament, Bedistribution of seats in,
885-844,888-852
Parliamentary elections and party
tactics, 677-688
Parliamentary parties in Australia^
827-887
Paul (Herbert), The Butler Beport,
167-172; Bedistribution, dSS-^^i;
The Sesnon, 505-612; The New
AUianee, 518-528; Liberals and
Foreign Policy, 058-904; The Po-
litical SituiUion, 1028-1080
Digitized by VjOOQlC
INDEX TO VOL. LVIII
1085
PAU
Pauperism and over- taxation, 706-715
Paupers and lunatics in Scotland, Cost
of maintaining, 674-676
Pearson (Norman), The Macaronis^
278-289
Pedder (Lieut.-Col. D. C), Between
Two Trcdna, 649-656
Philosophy of Berkeley, The, and
modem science, 252-258
Physical deterioration and the neglect
of household duties, 298-805
Pictorial Art in England and France,
246-251
Play-rooms for school children, 942-
950
Plays of the future, and the reform of
the drama, 204-218
PoUUcdl Betrospectj A^ 501-504'
FoUtieaA Situation, The, 1028-1080
PoUook (Sir Frederick), Imperial Or-
gamuation and Ca/nadia/n Opinion,
909-917
Poor-lo/w Otiardian8,How they spend
their Money, 408-415, 674-676
Precious metals, The, as money and
ornament, 290-297
Pressens^ (Francis de). The Fall of
M, Deloasei and the Anglo-Frencfi
' Entente,* 2^-SS
Private Property, The Oaptwre of, at
Sea, 716-728
Plroven^al delta, A, the Camargue,
267-272
PubHo Schools, The Study of Hietory
tn, 588-599
Pufioenrostro, the Spanish fiscal re-
former, 452-460
QUEEN Christina's Miniature
Painter, 667-678
Queensland, North (Bishop of)» The
Foundation of the Church of Eng-
land in Australia, 127-181; Out
on the * Never Never,' 815-826
JfEDISTBIBUTION, 885-844 ;
■^ 888-852
Bevealed religion, Christianity, and
P' pagan monotheism, 486-500
Bevolution in Russia, The, 865-888
Bidgeway (Sir West), The Liberal
unionist Party, 182-197
Bitualism and disestablishment, 474-
485
Robertson (Edmund), The Capture of
^Private Property at Sea, 716-728
Boman and Jewish law and the arrest
and trial of Jesus, 600-606
Boman Catacombs, The, 775-789
Boman Catholic Univeinuiy fiw Ire-
land, 547-557
swi
Borne, The Fire of, and the Chris-
tiana, 992-1001
Borne, The Sacred Trees of, 100-116
Bosadi's book on the trial of Jesus,
600-606
Bowton, The late Lord, A Talk with —
The Secret History of the Treaty
of BerUn, S8-90
Boyal Academy, The, and the French
Salon, 246-251
Bussia and Central Asia, 501-504
Bussia, The Collapse of, 1-61
Bussia, the Indian frontier, and the
policy of a neutral zone, 867-875
Bussia, The tievolution in, 865-888
Busso-Japanese war and Anglo-
Japanese alliance, 518-528
Rustic courtship, a sketch, 649-656
QACBED Trees of Borne, The, 100-
^ 115
St. Paul (Count) in Paris, 158-166
Scandinavian troubles, The, and the
Norwegian Constitution, 589-544
Scholefield (Guy H.), The White
Peril in Australasia, 198-208
Scotland, How Poor-law Guardians
spend their Money in, 674-676
Scott (Sir Walter) on his • Gabions,'
621-638
Sea-power, The Contest for: Ger-
many's Opportunity, 808-819
Selbome (Countess of), A Note on
Women's Suffrage, 806-807
Sellers (Miss Edith), How Poor-law
Guardians spend their Money, 408-
415 ; a reply to, 974-979
Seventeenth - Century Housewives,
Some, 796-814
Shopkeepers and Sunday trading, 484-
441
Sorel, Agnes, 416-426
Soudan, The, and Egypt, Irrigation of,
845-866
South African military stores scandal>
167-172
Spanish fiscal reformer, 452-460
Spectroscope, The, and solar pheno-
mena, 918-984
Spiehnann (M. H.), A Plea for a
Ministry of Fine Arts, 876-888
Stage, Some Aspects of the, 958-965
^Statistical Abstract,' A Guide to
the, 1008-1022
StocTc-Size of Success, The, 768-774
Sunday trading, Sunday labour, and
Sunday observance, 785-741
Sunday Trading, The Becent In*
crease in, 484-441
Sun, The, and the Becent Total
EcUpse, 918-984
SwinloB (Captain George S. C), The
Traffic of London, 889-402
Digitized by VjOOQlC
1086
INDEX TO VOL. LVIII
TAL
JULLISN, Umdame, n^TM
-^ TarT«r (J. C.)» TJu Fire of Some
imd the OhrtBiiaiu, 999-1001
TtmpMl (Adolphus Vmm), Same
AtpeeU of ths Stage, 968-966
TisdAll (Bey. Dr. W. St CUdr), The
Hebriw and the BabyUmian Coe-
mologtee, 269-206
Tndet Unions and the Workmen^s
Employment Bill, 116-196
Traffle of London, The, 889-402
Tnmwaye and street improvements,
889-402
Tree-worship in ancient Borne, 100-
116
Treror-Battye (A.), From Dawn to
Dark on the High Zambeei, 980-
991
• Trial of Jeeue,' The, 600-606
• TTNBMPLOYED' Problem, Con-
^ tinental Light on the, 000-908
XJnenwloyed Problem, Organised
Lahomr and the, 116-126
Unemployed problem, pauperism, and
over-taxation, 706-716
Unemployment : and the * Moloch of
Free Trade,* 884-899
Upper NUe, Some Problems of the,
846-866
VAMB£BT (A.), APoUticaZ Betro-
efect, 601-604
Vanishing Vienna: a Betrospect,
214-227
Yemey (Frederick), A Municipal
Concert HaU for London, 661-669
Victorian Woman, The, 961-967
£AM
Viennese Court Life, An Eighteenth-
Century Bpisode in, 684-648
Ydonteers, The, and Home IMence,
69-66
WAKEFIELD (Bev. H. Bnssell),
The Nation and the Army:
The Besponsibility of the Indi-
vidual Ottisen, 178-181
War, Are we prepared for ? 461-467
War Scares in England, Germany
anil, 689-706
Wedmore (Frederick), Some French
and English Painting, 246-261
Weir (T. H.), An Autumn Wcmdering
in Morocco, 286-246
White (Sir WiUiam H.), The Provision
for the Maintenance and Bepairs
of our Fleet, 61-^
Wilson (David H.)» The Camargue,
267-272
Windsor (Dean of)* The Deans and
the Athanasian Creed, 729-784; a
reply to, 1002-7
Woman, The Victorian, 961-967
Women and children, factory life, and
physical deterioration, 670-582
Women's Suffrage, A Note on, 806-
807
Wooing of the Electors, The, 677-688
Workhouses and the alleged extrava-
gance of guardians, 408-415, 974-
979
ZAMBESI, The High, From Daum
to Dark on, 980-991
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