"POOR ENGLAND."
With the account of the signing of the dissolution terms, and a brief
reference to the sweeping victory of the League party--already
foreshadowed, indeed, to the point of the inevitable--the unknown
chronicler, whose version of the Social War this narrative has followed,
brings his annals to a close. That war being finished, and by the
repudiation of their Socialistic mentors on the part of a large section
of the working classes, finished by more than a mere paper treaty, the
worthy scribe announces with praiseworthy restraint that there is no
more to be said.
"These men," he declares, in the quaint and archaic language of the
past,--and he might surely have added "these women" also--"came not
reluctantly, but in no wise ambitiously, out of the business of their
own private lives to serve their country as they deemed; and that being
accomplished to a successful end, would have returned, nothing loth, to
more obscure affairs, having sought no personal gain beyond that which
grew from public security, an equitable burden of citizenship, and a
recovered pride among the nations. Albeit some must needs remain to
carry on the work."
Even the not unimportant detail of who remained to carry on the work,
and in what capacities, is not recorded, but the distribution of rewards
and penalties, on the lines of strict poetic justice, may be safely left
to the individual reader's sympathies, with the definite assurance that
everything happened exactly as he would have it. At the length of three
times as much space as would have sufficed to dispose of these points
once and for all, this superexact historian goes on to set out his
reasons for not doing so. He claims, in short, that his object was to
portray the course of the social war, not to recount the adventures of
mere individuals; and with the suggestion of a wink between his pen and
paper that may raise a doubt whether he, on his side, might not be
endowed with the power of casting a critical eye upon other periods than
his own, he indulges in a little pleasantry at the expense of writers
who, under the pretext of developing their hero's character, begin with
his parent's childhood, and continue to the time of his grandchildren's
youth. For himself, he asserts that nothing apart from the course of the
social war, its rise and progress, has been allowed to intrude, and that
ended, and their work accomplished, its champions are rather heroically
treated, very much as the Arabian magician's army was disposed of until
it was required again, and to all intents and purposes turned into stone
just where they stood.
But from other sources it is possible to glean a little here and there
of the course of subsequent events. To this patchwork record the
_Minneapolis Journal_ contributes a cartoon laden with the American
satirist's invariable wealth of detail.
A very emaciated John Bull, stretched on his bed, is just struggling
back to consciousness and life. On a table by his side stands a bottle
labelled "Hampden's U. L. Mixture," to which he owes recovery. On the
walls one sees various maps which depict a remarkably Little England
indeed. Some sagacious economist, in search of a strip of canvas with
which to hold together a broken model of a black man, has torn off the
greater part of South Africa for the purpose. Over India a spider has
been left to spin a web so that scarcely any of the Empire is now to be
seen. Upper Egypt is lost behind a squab of ink which an irresponsible
urchin has mischievously taken the opportunity to fling. Every colony
and possession shows signs of some ill-usage.
"Say, John," "Uncle Sam," who has looked in, is represented as saying,
"you've had a bad touch of the 'sleeping sickness.' You'd better take
things easy for a spell to recuperate. I'll keep an eye on your house
while you go to the seashore."
That was to be England's proud destiny for the next few years--to take
things easy and recuperate! There is nothing else for the pale and
shaken convalescent to do; but the man who has delighted in his strength
feels his heart and soul rebel against the necessity. Fortunate for
England that she had good friends in that direful hour. The United
States, sinking those small rivalries over which cousins may strive even
noisily at times in amiable contention, stretched a hand across the
waters and astonished Europe by the message, "Who strikes England
wantonly, strikes me": a sentiment driven home by the diplomatic hint
that for the time being the Monroe Doctrine was suspended west of Suez.
France--France who had been so chivalrously true to her own ally in that
stricken giant's day of incredible humiliation--looked across The Sleeve
with troubled, anxious eyes, and whispered words of sympathy and hope.
Gently, very tactfully, she offered friendship with both hands, without
a tinge of the patronage or protection that she could extend; and by the
living example of her own tempestuous past and gallant recovery from
every blow, pointed the way to power and self-respect.
Japan, whose treaty had been thrown unceremoniously back to her many
years before, now drew near again with the cheerful smile that is so
mild in peace, so terrible in war. Prefacing that her own enviable
position was entirely due to the enlightened virtues of her emperor, she
now proposed another compact on broad and generous lines, by which
England--a "high contracting Power," as she was still magnanimously
described--was spared the most fruitful cause for anxiety in the East.
"You didn't mind allying with us when you were at the head of the
nations," said Japan. "We come to you--now. Besides, all very good
business for us in the end. You build up again all right, no time."
Japan's authority to speak on the subject of "building up" was not to be
disputed. The nations had forgotten the time, scarcely a quarter of a
century before, when they had been amused by "Little Japan's"
progressive ambitions. And when Japan had taken over the "awakening"
arrangements of a sister-nation on terms that gave her fifty million
potential warriors to draw upon and train (warriors whom one of
England's most revered generals had characterised as "Easily led; easily
fed; fearless of death"), non-amusement in some quarters gave way to
positive trepidation.
The sympathetic nations spoke together, and agreed that something must
be done to give "Poor England" another chance; as, in the world of
commerce, friendly rivals will often gather round the man who has fallen
on evil days to set him on his feet again.
So England was to have a fair field and liberty to work out her own
salvation. But she was not to wake up and find that it had all been a
hideous dream. Egypt had been put back to the time of the Khalifa. India
had lost sixty years of pacification and progress. Ireland was a
republic, at least in name, and depending largely on Commemoration
Issues of postage stamps for a revenue. South Africa was for the South
Africans. There were many other interesting items, but these were, as it
might be expressed to a nation of shopkeepers, the leading lines.
If the worst abroad was bad enough, there was one encouraging feature at
home. With the election of the new government industries began to
revive, trade to improve, the money market to throw off its depression,
and the natural demand for labour to increase: not gradually, but
instantly, phenomenally. It was as though a dam across some great river
had been removed, and with the impetus every sluggish little tributary
was quickened and drawn on in new and sparkling animation. It was not
necessary to argue upon it from a party point of view; it was a concrete
fact that every one admitted. There was only one explanation, and it met
the eye at every turn. Capital reappeared, and money began to circulate
freely again. Why? There was security.
It was not the Millennium; it was the year 19--, and a "capitalistic"
government was in office; but the "masses" discovered that they were
certainly not worse off than before. Working men now wore, it is true, a
little less of the air of being so many presidents of South American
republics when they walked about the streets; but that style had never
really suited them, and they soon got out of it. The men who had come
into power were not of the class who oppress. The strife of the past was
being forgotten; its lessons were remembered. What was good and
practical of Socialistic legislation was retained. So it came about that
the vanquished gained more by defeat than they would have done by
victory.
It was undeniable that, in common with mankind at large, they still from
time to time experienced pain, sickness, disappointment, hardship, and
general adversity. Those who were employed by gentlemen were treated as
gentlemen treat their work-people; those who were so unfortunate as to
be in the service of employers who had no claim to that title continued
to be treated as cads and despots treat their employes. Those among them
who were gentlemen themselves extended a courteous spirit towards their
masters, and those among them who were the reverse continued to act
towards employers and the world around as churls and blusterers act, and
so the compensating balance of nature was more or less harmoniously
preserved.
And what of the future? Will the nation that was so sharply taught dread
the fire like the burned child, or return to the flame as the scorched
moth does? Alas, the memory of a people is short, even as the wisdom of
a proverb is conflictingly two-edged.
Or, if the warning fades and the necessity grows large again, will there
be found another Stobalt to respond to the call? "For those whom Heaven
afflicts there is a chance," contributes the Sage of another land; "but
they who persistently work out their own undoing are indeed hopeless."
Or may it be that the faith of Tirrel will be justified, and that in the
process of time there will emerge from man's ceaseless groping after
perfection a new wisdom, under whose yet undreamt-of scheme and
dispensation all men will be content and reconciled?
The philosopher shakes his head weightily and remains silent--thereby
adding to his reputation. The prophets prophesy; the old men dream
dreams and the young men see visions, and the dispassionate speculate.
On all sides there is a multitude of the counsel in which, as we must
believe, lies wisdom.
It is an interesting situation, and as it can only be definitely settled
beyond the dim vista of future centuries, the pity is that we shall
never know.
THE END.
NELSON LIBRARY
_UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME._
1. The Marriage of William Ashe.
2. The Intrusions of Peggy.
3. The Fortune of Christina M'Nab.
4. The Battle of the Strong.
5. Robert Elsmere.
6. No. 5 John Street.
7. Quisante.
8. Incomparable Bellairs.
9. History of David Grieve.
10. The King's Mirror.
11. John Charity.
12. Clementina.
13. If Youth but Knew.
14. The American Prisoner.
15. His Grace.
16. The Hosts of the Lord.
17. The God in the Car.
18. The Lady of the Barge.
19. The Odd Women.
20. Matthew Austin.
21. The Translation of a Savage.
22. The Octopus.
23. White Fang.
24. The Princess Passes.
25. Sir John Constantine.
26. The Man from America.
27. A Lame Dog's Diary.
28. The Recipe for Diamonds.
29. Woodside Farm.
30. Monsieur Beaucaire, and The Beautiful Lady.
31. The Pit.
32. An Adventurer of the North.
33. The Wages of Sin.
34. Lady Audley's Secret.
35. Eight Days.
36. Owd Bob.
37. The Duenna of a Genius.
38. His Honor and a Lady.
39. Marcella.
40. Selah Harrison.
41. The House with the Green Shutters.
42. Mrs Galer's Business.
43. Old Gorgon Graham.
44. Major Vigoureux.
45. The Gateless Barrier.
46. Kipps.
47. Moonfleet.
48. Springtime.
49. French Nan.
50. The Food of the Gods.
51. Raffles.
52. Cynthia's Way.
53. Clarissa Furiosa.
54. Love and Mr Lewisham.
55. The Lonely Lady of Grosvenor Square.
56. Thompson's Progress.
57. The Primrose Path.
58. Lady Rose's Daughter.
59. Romance.
60. The War of the Carolinas.
61. Katharine Frensham.
62. The Professor on the Case.
63. Love and the Soul-Hunters.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Secret of the League, by Ernest Bramah