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POLITICAL AND LITERARY
ESSAYS
1908-1913
BY THE
EARL OF CROMER
MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON
1913
MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
LONDON · BOMBAY · CALCUTTA · MELBOURNE
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
NEW YORK · BOSTON · CHICAGO · DALLAS · SAN FRANCISCO
THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD.
TORONTO
PREFACE
I have to thank the editors of _The Edinburgh_ and _Quarterly Reviews_,
_The Nineteenth Century and After_, and _The Spectator_ for allowing the
republication of these essays, all of which appeared originally in their
respective columns.
No important alterations or additions have been made, but I should like
to observe, as regards the first essay of the series--on "The Government
of Subject Races"--that, although only six years have elapsed since it
was written, events in India have moved rapidly during that short
period. I adhere to the opinions expressed in that essay so far as they
go, but it will be obvious to any one who has paid attention to Indian
affairs that, if the subject had to be treated now, many very important
issues, to which I have not alluded, would have to be imported into the
discussion.
CROMER.
_September 30, 1913._
CONTENTS
PAGE
"THE EDINBURGH REVIEW"
I. THE GOVERNMENT OF SUBJECT RACES 3
II. TRANSLATION AND PARAPHRASE 54
"THE QUARTERLY REVIEW"
III. SIR ALFRED LYALL 77
"THE NINETEENTH CENTURY AND AFTER"
IV. ARMY REFORM 107
V. THE INTERNATIONAL ASPECTS OF FREE TRADE 127
VI. CHINA 141
VII. THE CAPITULATIONS IN EGYPT 156
"THE SPECTATOR"
VIII. DISRAELI 177
IX. RUSSIAN ROMANCE 204
X. THE WRITING OF HISTORY 214
XI. THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY 226
XII. LORD MILNER AND PARTY 237
XIII. THE FRENCH IN ALGERIA 250
XIV. THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE 264
XV. WELLINGTONIANA 277
XVI. BURMA 287
XVII. A PSEUDO-HERO OF THE REVOLUTION 298
XVIII. THE FUTURE OF THE CLASSICS 307
XIX. AN INDIAN IDEALIST 317
XX. THE FISCAL QUESTION IN INDIA 227
XXI. ROME AND MUNICIPAL GOVERNMENT 340
XXII. A ROYAL PHILOSOPHER 351
XXIII. ANCIENT ART AND RITUAL 361
XXIV. PORTUGUESE SLAVERY 372
XXV. ENGLAND AND ISLAM 407
XXVI. SOME INDIAN PROBLEMS 416
XXVII. THE NAPOLEON OF TAINE 427
XXVIII. SONGS, PATRIOTIC AND NATIONAL 439
XXIX. SONGS, NAVAL AND MILITARY 449
INDEX 459
"THE EDINBURGH REVIEW"
I
THE GOVERNMENT OF SUBJECT RACES[1]
_"The Edinburgh Review," January 1908_
The "courtly Claudian," as Mr. Hodgkin, in his admirable and instructive
work, calls the poet of the Roman decadence, concluded some lines which
have often been quoted as applicable to the British Empire, with the
dogmatic assertion that no limit could be assigned to the duration of
Roman sway. _Nec terminus unquam Romanae ditionis erit._ At the time
this hazardous prophecy was made, the huge overgrown Roman Empire was
tottering to its fall. Does a similar fate await the British Empire? Are
we so far self-deceived, and are we so incapable of peering into the
future as to be unable to see that many of the steps which now appear
calculated to enhance and to stereotype Anglo-Saxon domination, are but
the precursors of a period of national decay and senility?
A thorough examination of this vital question would necessarily involve
the treatment of a great variety of subjects. The heart of the British
Empire is to be found in Great Britain. It is not proposed in this place
to deal either with the working of British political institutions, or
with the various important social and economic problems which the actual
condition of England presents, but only with the extremities of the body
politic, and more especially with those where the inhabitants of the
countries under British rule are not of Anglo-Saxon origin.
What should be the profession of faith of a sound but reasonable
Imperialist? He will not be possessed with any secret desire to see the
whole of Africa or of Asia painted red on the maps. He will entertain
not only a moral dislike, but also a political mistrust of that
excessive earth-hunger, which views with jealous eyes the extension of
other and neighbouring European nations. He will have no fear of
competition. He will believe that, in the treatment of subject races,
the methods of government practised by England, though sometimes open to
legitimate criticism, are superior, morally and economically, to those
of any other foreign nation; and that, strong in the possession and
maintenance of those methods, we shall be able to hold our own against
all competitors.
On the other hand, he will have no sympathy with those who, as Lord
Cromer said in a recent speech, "are so fearful of Imperial greatness
that they are unwilling that we should accomplish our manifest destiny,
and who would thus have us sink into political insignificance by
refusing the main title which makes us great."
An Imperial policy must, of course, be carried out with reasonable
prudence, and the principles of government which guide our relations
with whatsoever races are brought under our control must be politically
and economically sound and morally defensible. This is, in fact, the
keystone of the Imperial arch. The main justification of Imperialism is
to be found in the use which is made of the Imperial power. If we make a
good use of our power, we may face the future without fear that we shall
be overtaken by the Nemesis which attended Roman misrule. If the reverse
is the case, the British Empire will deserve to fall, and of a surety it
will ultimately fall. There is truth in the saying, of which perhaps we
sometimes hear rather too much, that the maintenance of the Empire
depends on the sword; but so little does it depend on the sword alone
that if once we have to draw the sword, not merely to suppress some
local effervescence, but to overcome a general upheaval of subject
races goaded to action either by deliberate oppression, which is highly
improbable, or by unintentional misgovernment, which is far more
conceivable, the sword will assuredly be powerless to defend us for
long, and the days of our Imperial rule will be numbered.
To those who believe that when they rest from their earthly labours
their works will follow them, and that they must account to a Higher
Tribunal for the use or misuse of any powers which may have been
entrusted to them in this world, no further defence of the plea that
Imperialism should rest on a moral basis is required. Those who
entertain no such belief may perhaps be convinced by the argument that,
from a national point of view, a policy based on principles of sound
morality is wiser, inasmuch as it is likely to be more successful, than
one which excludes all considerations save those of cynical
self-interest. There was truth in the commonplace remark made by a
subject of ancient Rome, himself a slave and presumably of Oriental
extraction, that bad government will bring the mightiest empire to
ruin.[2]
Some advantage may perhaps be derived from inquiring, however briefly
and imperfectly, into the causes which led to the ruin of that
political edifice, which in point of grandeur and extent, is alone
worthy of comparison with the British Empire. The subject has been
treated by many of the most able writers and thinkers whom the world has
produced--Gibbon, Guizot, Mommsen, Milman, Seeley, and others. For
present purposes the classification given by Mr. Hodgkin of the causes
which led to the downfall of the Western Empire has been adopted. They
were six in number, viz.:
1. The foundation of Constantinople.
2. Christianity.
3. Slavery.
4. The pauperisation of the Roman proletariat.
5. The destruction of the middle class by the fiscal oppression of the
Curiales.
6. Barbarous finance.
1. _The Foundation of Constantinople._--It is, for obvious reasons,
unnecessary to discuss this cause. It was one of special application to
the circumstances of the time, notably to the threatening attitude
towards Rome assumed by the now decadent State of Persia.
2. _Christianity._--That the foundation of Christianity exercised a
profoundly disintegrating effect on the Roman Empire is unquestionable.
Gibbon, although he possibly confounds the tenets of the new creed with
the defects of its hierarchy, dwells with characteristic emphasis on
this congenial subject.[3] Mr. Hodgkin, speaking of the analogy between
the British present and the Roman past, says:
The Christian religion is with us no explosive force threatening
the disruption of our most cherished institutions. On the contrary,
it has been said, not as a mere figure of speech, that
"Christianity is part of the common law of England." And even the
bitterest enemies of our religion will scarcely deny that, upon the
whole, a nation imbued with the teaching of the New Testament is
more easy to govern than one which derived its notions of divine
morality from the stories of the dwellers on Olympus.
From the special point of view now under consideration, the case for
Christianity admits of being even more strongly stated than this, for no
attempt will be made to deal with the principles which should guide the
government of a people imbued with the teaching of the New Testament,
but rather with the subordinate, but still highly important question of
the treatment which a people, presumed to be already imbued with that
teaching, should accord to subject races who are ignorant or irreceptive
of its precepts. From this point of view it may be said that
Christianity, far from being an explosive force, is not merely a
powerful ally. It is an ally without whose assistance continued success
is unattainable. Although dictates of worldly prudence and opportunism
are alone sufficient to ensure the rejection of a policy of official
proselytism, it is none the less true that the code of Christian
morality is the only sure foundation on which the whole of our vast
Imperial fabric can be built if it is to be durable. The stability of
our rule depends to a great extent upon whether the forces acting in
favour of applying the Christian code of morality to subject races are
capable of overcoming those moving in a somewhat opposite direction. We
are inclined to think that our Teutonic veracity and gravity, our
national conscientiousness, our British spirit of fair play, to use the
cant phrase of the day, our free institutions, and our press--which,
although it occasionally shows unpleasant symptoms of sinking beneath
the yoke of special and not highly reputable interests, is still greatly
superior in tone to that of any other nation--are sufficient guarantees
against relapse into the morass of political immorality which
characterised the relations between nation and nation, and notably
between the strong and the weak, even so late as the eighteenth
century.[4] It is to be hoped and believed that, for the time being,
this contention is well founded, but what assurance is there--if the
Book which embodies the code of Christian morality may without
irreverence be quoted--that "that which is done is that which shall be
done"?[5] That is the crucial question.
There appear to be at present existent in England two different Imperial
schools of thought, which, without being absolutely antagonistic,
represent very opposite principles. One school, which, for want of a
better name, may be styled that of philanthropy, is occasionally tainted
with the zeal which outruns discretion, and with the want of accuracy
which often characterises those whose emotions predominate over their
reason. The violence and want of mental equilibrium at times displayed
by the partisans of this school of thought not infrequently give rise to
misgivings lest the Duke of Wellington should have prophesied truly when
he said, "If you lose India, the House of Commons will lose it for
you."[6] These manifest defects should not, however, blind us to the
fact that the philanthropists and sentimentalists are deeply imbued with
the grave national responsibilities which devolve on England, and with
the lofty aspirations which attach themselves to her civilising and
moralising mission.
The other is the commercial school. Pitt once said that "British policy
is British trade." The general correctness of this aphorism cannot be
challenged, but, like most aphorisms, it only conveys a portion of the
truth; for the commercial spirit, though eminently beneficent when under
some degree of moral control, may become not merely hurtful, but even
subversive of Imperial dominion, when it is allowed to run riot.
Livingstone said that in five hundred years the only thing the natives
of Africa had learnt from the Portuguese was to distil bad spirits with
the help of an old gun barrel. This is, without doubt, an extreme
case--so extreme, indeed, that even the hardened conscience of
diplomatic Europe was eventually shamed into taking some half-hearted
action in the direction of preventing a whole continent from being
demoralised in order that the distillers and vendors of cheap spirits
might realise large profits. But it would not be difficult to cite other
analogous, though less striking, instances. Occasions are, indeed, not
infrequent when the interests of commerce apparently clash with those of
good government. The word "apparently" is used with intent; for though
some few individuals may acquire a temporary benefit by sacrificing
moral principle on the altar of pecuniary gain, it may confidently be
stated that, in respect to the wider and more lasting benefits of trade,
no real antagonism exists between commercial self-interest and public
morality.[7]
To be more explicit, what is meant when it is said that the commercial
spirit should be under some control is this--that in dealing with
Indians or Egyptians, or Shilluks, or Zulus, the first question is to
consider what course is most conducive to Indian, Egyptian, Shilluk, or
Zulu interests. We need not always inquire too closely what these
people, who are all, nationally speaking, more or less _in statu
pupillari_, themselves think is best in their own interests, although
this is a point which deserves serious consideration. But it is
essential that each special issue should be decided mainly with
reference to what, by the light of Western knowledge and experience
tempered by local considerations, we conscientiously think is best for
the subject race, without reference to any real or supposed advantage
which may accrue to England as a nation, or--as is more frequently the
case--to the special interests represented by some one or more
influential classes of Englishmen. If the British nation as a whole
persistently bears this principle in mind, and insists sternly on its
application, though we can never create a patriotism akin to that based
on affinity of race or community of language, we may perhaps foster some
sort of cosmopolitan allegiance grounded on the respect always accorded
to superior talents and unselfish conduct, and on the gratitude derived
both from favours conferred and from those to come.[8] There may then at
all events be some hope that the Egyptian will hesitate before he throws
in his lot with any future Arabi The Berberine dweller on the banks of
the Nile may, perhaps, cast no wistful glances back to the time when,
albeit he or his progenitors were oppressed, the oppression came from
the hand of a co-religionist. Even the Central African savage may
eventually learn to chant a hymn in honour of _Astraea Redux_, as
represented by the British official who denies him gin but gives him
justice. More than this, commerce will gain. It must necessarily follow
in the train of civilisation, and, whilst it will speedily droop if that
civilisation is spurious, it will, on the other hand, increase in volume
in direct proportion to the extent to which the true principles of
Western progress are assimilated by the subjects of the British king and
the customers of the British trader. This latter must be taught patience
at the hands, of the statesman and the moralist. It is a somewhat
difficult lesson to learn. The trader not only wishes to acquire wealth;
he not infrequently wishes that its acquisition should be rapid, even at
the expense of morality and of the permanent interests of his country.
Nam dives qui fieri vult,
Et cito vult fieri. Sed quae reverentia legum,
Quis metus aut pudor est unquam properantis avari?[9]
This question demands consideration from another point of view. A clever
Frenchman, keenly alive to what he thought was the decadence of his own
nation, published a remarkable book in 1897. He practically admitted
that the Anglophobia so common on the continent of Europe is the outcome
of jealousy.[10] He acknowledged the proved superiority of the
Anglo-Saxon over the Latin races, and he set himself to examine the
causes of that superiority. The general conclusion at which he arrived
was that the strength of the Anglo-Saxon race lay in the fact that its
society, its government, and its habits of thought were eminently
"particularist," as opposed to the "communitarian" principles prevalent
on the continent of Europe. He was probably quite right. It has, indeed,
become a commonplace of English political thought that for centuries
past, from the days of Raleigh to those of Rhodes, the position of
England in the world has been due more to the exertions, to the
resources, and occasionally, perhaps, to the absence of scruple found in
the individual Anglo-Saxon, than to any encouragement or help derived
from British Governments, whether of the Elizabethan, Georgian, or
Victorian type. The principle of relying largely on individual effort
has, in truth, produced marvellous results. It is singularly suited to
develop some of the best qualities of the vigorous, self-assertive
Anglo-Saxon race. It is to be hoped that self-help may long continue to
be our national watchword.
It is now somewhat the fashion to regard as benighted the school of
thought which was founded two hundred years ago by Du Quesnay and the
French Physiocrates, which reached its zenith in the person of Adam
Smith, and whose influence rapidly declined in England after the great
battle of Free Trade had been fought and won. But whatever may have been
the faults of that school, and however little its philosophy is capable
of affording an answer to many of the complex questions which modern
government and society present, it laid fast hold of one unquestionably
sound principle. It entertained a deep mistrust of Government
interference in the social and economic relations of life. Moreover, it
saw, long before the fact became apparent to the rest of the world,
that, in spite not only of some outward dissimilarities of methods but
even of an instinctive mutual repulsion, despotic bureaucracy was the
natural ally of those communistic principles which the economists deemed
it their main business in life to combat and condemn. Many regard with
some disquietude the frequent concessions which have of late years been
made in England to demands for State interference. Nevertheless, it is
to be hoped that the main principle advocated by the economists still
holds the field, that individualism is not being crushed out of
existence, and that the majority of our countrymen still believe that
State interference--being an evil, although sometimes admittedly a
necessary evil--should be jealously watched and restricted to the
minimum amount absolutely necessary in each special case.
Attention is drawn to this point in order to show that the observations
which follow are in no degree based on any general desire to exalt the
power of the State at the expense of the individual.
Our habits of thought, our past history, and our national character all,
therefore, point in the direction of allowing individualism as wide a
scope as possible in the work of national expansion. Hence the career of
the East India Company and the tendency displayed more recently in
Africa to govern through the agency of private companies. On the other
hand, it is greatly to be doubted whether the principles, which a wise
policy would dictate in the treatment of subject races, will receive
their application to so full an extent at the hands of private
individuals as would be the case at the hands of the State. The
guarantee for good government is even less solid where power is
entrusted to a corporate body, for, as Turgot once said, "La morale des
corps les plus scrupuleux ne vaut jamais celle des particuliers
honnêtes."[11] In both cases, public opinion is relatively impotent. In
the case of direct Government action, on the other hand, the views of
those who wish to uphold a high standard of public morality can find
expression in Parliament, and the latter can, if it chooses, oblige the
Government to control its agents and call them to account for unjust,
unwise, or overbearing conduct. More than this, State officials, having
no interests to serve but those of good government, are more likely to
pay regard to the welfare of the subject race than commercial agents,
who must necessarily be hampered in their action by the pecuniary
interests of their employers.
Our national policy must, of course, be what would be called in statics
the resultant of the various currents of opinion represented in our
national society. Whether Imperialism will continue to rest on a sound
basis depends, therefore, to no small extent, on the degree to which
the moralising elements in the nation can, without injury to all that
is sound and healthy in individualist action, control those defects
which may not improbably spring out of the egotism of the commercial
spirit, if it be subject to no effective check.[12]
If this problem can be satisfactorily solved, then Christianity, far
from being a disruptive force, as was the case with Rome, will prove one
of the strongest elements of Imperial cohesion.
3. _Slavery._--It is not necessary to discuss this question, for there
can be no doubt that, in so far as his connexion with subject races is
concerned, the Anglo-Saxon in modern times comes, not to enslave, but to
liberate from slavery. The fact that he does so is, indeed, one of his
best title-deeds to Imperial dominion.
4. _The Pauperisation of the Roman Proletariat._--This is the _Panem et
Circenses_ policy. Mr. Hodgkin appears to think that in this direction
lies the main danger which threatens the British Empire.
"Of all the forces," he says, "which were at work for the
destruction of the prosperity of the Roman world, none is more
deserving of the careful study of an English statesman than the
grain-largesses to the populace of Rome.... Will the great
Democracies of the twentieth century resist the temptation to use
political power as a means of material self-enrichment?"
Possibly Mr. Hodgkin is right. The manner in which the leaders of the
Paris Commune dealt with the rights of property during their disastrous,
but fortunately very brief, period of office in 1871, serves as a
warning of what, in an extreme case, may be expected of despotic
democracy in its most aggravated form. Moreover, misgovernment, and the
fiscal oppression which is the almost necessary accompaniment of
militarism dominant over a poverty-stricken population, have latterly
developed on the continent of Europe, and more especially in Italy, a
school of action--for anarchism can scarcely be dignified by the name of
a school of thought--which regards human life as scarcely more sacred
than property. It may be that some lower depth has yet to be reached,
although it is almost inconceivable that such should be the case.
Anarchy takes us past the stage of any defined political or social
programme. It would appear, so far as can at present be judged, to
embody the last despairing cry of ultra-democracy "Furens."
It is permissible to hope that our national sobriety, coupled with the
inherited traditions derived from centuries of free government, will
save us from such extreme manifestations of democratic tyranny as those
to which allusion has been made above. The special danger in England
would appear rather to arise from the probability of gradual dry rot,
due to prolonged offence against the infallible and relentless laws of
economic science. Both British employers of labour and British workmen
are insular in their habits of thought, and insular in the range of
their acquired knowledge. They do not appear as yet to be thoroughly
alive to the new position created for British trade by foreign
competition. It is greatly to be hoped that they will awake to the
realities of the situation before any permanent harm is done to British
trade, for the loss of trade involves as its ultimate result the
pauperisation of the proletariat, the adoption of reckless expedients
based on the _Panem et Circenses_ policy to fill the mouths and quell
the voices of the multitude, and finally the suicide of that Empire
which is the offspring of trade, and which can only continue to exist so
long as its parent continues to thrive and to flourish.
5. _The Destruction of the Middle Class by the Fiscal Oppression of the
Curiales._--Leaving aside points of detail, which were only of special
application to the circumstances of the time, this cause of Roman decay
may, for all purposes of comparison and instruction, be stated in the
following terms: funds, which should have been spent by the
municipalities on local objects, were, from about the close of the third
century, diverted to the Imperial Exchequer, by which they were not
infrequently squandered in such a manner as to confer no benefit of any
kind on the taxpayers, whether local or Imperial. Thus, the system of
local self-government, which, Mr. Hodgkin says, was, during the early
centuries of the Empire, "both in name and fact Republican," was
shattered.
It does not appear probable that an attempt will ever be made to divert
the public revenues of the outlying dependencies of Great Britain to the
Imperial Exchequer. The lesson taught by the loss of the American
Colonies has sunk deeply into the public mind. Moreover, the example of
Spain stands as a warning to all the world. The principle that local
revenues should be expended locally has become part of the political
creed of Englishmen; neither is it at all likely to be infringed, even
in respect to those dependencies whose rights and privileges are not
safeguarded by self-governing institutions.
There may, however, be some little danger ahead in a sense exactly
opposite to that which was incurred by Rome--the danger, that is to
say, that, under the pressure of Imperialism, backed by influential
class and personal interests, too large an amount of the Imperial
revenue may be diverted to the outlying dependencies. If this were done,
two evils might not improbably ensue.
In the first place, the British democracy might become restive under
taxation imposed for objects the utility of which would not perhaps be
fully appreciated, and might therefore be disposed to cast off too
hastily the mantle of Imperialism. It is but a short time ago that an
influential school of politicians persistently dwelt on the theme that
the colonies were a burthen to the Mother Country. Although, for the
time being, views of this sort are out of fashion, no assurance can be
felt that the swing of the pendulum may not bring round another
anti-Imperialist phase of public opinion.
In the second place, if financial aid to any considerable extent were
afforded by the British Treasury to the outlying dependencies, a serious
risk would be run that this concession would be followed at no distant
period by a plea in favour of financial control from England. The
establishment of this latter principle would strike a blow at one of the
main props on which our Imperial fabric is based. It would tend to
substitute a centralised, in the place of our present decentralised
system. Those who are immediately responsible for the administration of
our outlying dependencies will, therefore, act wisely if they abstain
from asking too readily for Imperial pecuniary aid in order to solve
local difficulties.
These considerations naturally lead to some reflections on the
principles of government adopted in those dependencies of the Empire,
the inhabitants of which are not of the Anglo-Saxon race. Colonies whose
inhabitants are mainly of British origin stand, of course, on a wholly
different footing. They carry their Anglo-Saxon institutions and habits
of thought with them to their distant homes.
Englishmen are less imitative than most Europeans in this sense--that
they are less disposed to apply the administrative and political systems
of their own country to the government of backward populations; but in
spite of their relatively high degree of political elasticity, they
cannot shake themselves altogether free from political
conventionalities. Moreover, the experienced minority is constantly
being pressed by the inexperienced majority in the direction of
imitation. Knowing the somewhat excessive degree of adulation which some
sections of the British public are disposed to pay to their special
idol, Lord Dufferin, in 1883, was almost apologetic to his countrymen
for abstaining from an act of political folly. He pleaded strenuously
for delay in the introduction of parliamentary institutions into Egypt,
on the ground that our attempts "to mitigate predominant absolutism" in
India had been slow, hesitating, and tentative. He brought poetic
metaphor to his aid. He deprecated paying too much attention to the
"murmuring leaves," in other words, imagining that the establishment of
a Chamber of Notables implied constitutional freedom, and he exhorted
his countrymen "to seek for the roots," that is to say, to allow each
Egyptian village to elect its own mayor (Sheikh).
It cannot be too clearly understood that whether we deal with the roots,
or the trunk, or the branches, or the leaves, free institutions in the
full sense of the term must for generations to come be wholly unsuitable
to countries such as India and Egypt. If the use of a metaphor, though
of a less polished type, be allowed, it may be said that it will
probably never be possible to make a Western silk purse out of an
Eastern sow's ear; at all events, if the impossibility of the task be
called in question, it should be recognised that the process of
manufacture will be extremely lengthy and tedious.
But it is often urged that, although no rational person would wish to
advocate the premature creation of ultra-liberal institutions in
backward countries, at the same time that for several reasons it is
desirable to move gradually in this direction. The adoption of this
method is, it is said, the only way to remedy the evils attendant on a
system of personal government in an extreme form; it enables us to learn
the views of the natives of the country, even although we may not accord
to the latter full power of deciding whether or not those views should
be put in practice; lastly, it constitutes a means of political
education, through the agency of which the subject race will gradually
acquire the qualities necessary to autonomy.
The force of these arguments cannot be denied, but there should be no
delusion as to the weight which should be attached to them. It has been
very truly remarked by a writer, who has dealt with the idiosyncrasies
of a singularly versatile nation, whose genius presented in every
respect a marked contrast to that of Eastern races, that from the dawn
of history Eastern politics have been "stricken with a fatal
simplicity."[13] Do not let us for one moment imagine that the fatally
simple idea of despotic rule will readily give way to the far more
complex conception of ordered liberty. The transformation, if it ever
takes place at all, will probably be the work, not of generations, but
of centuries.
So limited is the stock of political ideas in the world that some
modified copy of parliamentary institutions is, without doubt, the only
method which has yet been invented for mitigating the evils attendant on
the personal system of government. But it is a method which is
thoroughly uncongenial to Oriental habits of thought. It may be doubted
whether, by the adoption of this exotic system, we gain any real insight
into native aspirations and opinions. As to the educational process, the
experience of India is not very encouraging. The good government of most
Indian towns depends to this day mainly, not on the Municipal
Commissioners, who are generally natives, but on the influence of the
President, who is usually an Englishman.
A further consideration in connection with this point is also of some
importance. It is that British officials in Eastern countries should be
encouraged by all possible means to learn the views and the requirements
of the native population. The establishment of mock parliaments tends
rather in the opposite direction, for the official on the spot sees
through the mockery and is not infrequently disposed to abandon any
attempt to ascertain real native opinion, through disgust at the
unreality, crudity, or folly of the views set forth by the putative
representatives of native society.
For these reasons it is important that, in our well-intentioned
endeavours to impregnate the Oriental mind with our insular habits of
thought, we should proceed with the utmost caution, and that we should
remember that our primary duty is, not to introduce a system which,
under the specious cloak of free institutions, will enable a small
minority of natives to misgovern their countrymen, but to establish one
which will enable the mass of the population to be governed according to
the code of Christian morality. A freely elected Egyptian Parliament,
supposing such a thing to be possible, would not improbably legislate
for the protection of the slave-owner, if not the slave-dealer, and no
assurance can be felt that the electors of Rajputana, if they had their
own way, would not re-establish suttee. Good government has the merit of
presenting a more or less attainable ideal. Before Orientals can attain
anything approaching to the British ideal of self-government they will
have to undergo very numerous transmigrations of political thought.
The question of local self-government may be considered from another,
and almost equally important point of view.
When writers such as M. Demolins speak of the "particularist" system of
England and of the "communitarian" system prevalent on the continent of
Europe, they generally mean to contrast the British plan of acting
through the agency of private individuals with the Continental practice
of relying almost entirely on the action of the State. This is the
primary and perhaps the most important signification of the two phrases,
but the principles which these phrases are intended to represent admit
of another application.
It is difficult for those Englishmen who have not been brought into
business relations with Continental officials to realise the extreme
centralisation of their administrative and diplomatic procedures. The
tendency of every French central authority is to allow no discretionary
power whatever to his subordinate. He wishes, often from a distance, to
control every detail of the administration. The tendency of the
subordinate, on the other hand, is to lean in everything on superior
authority. He does not dare to take any personal responsibility; indeed,
it is possible to go further and say that the corroding action of
bureaucracy renders those who live under its baneful shadow almost
incapable of assuming responsibility. By force of habit and training it
has become irksome to them. They fly for refuge to a superior official,
who, in his turn, if the case at all admits of the adoption of such a
course, hastens to merge his individuality in the voluminous pages of a
code or a Government circular.
The British official, on the other hand, whether in England or abroad,
is an Englishman first and an official afterwards. He possesses his full
share of national characteristics. He is by inheritance an
individualist. He lives in a society which, so far from being, as is the
case on the Continent, saturated with respect for officialism, is
somewhat prone to regard officialism and incompetency as synonymous
terms. By such association, any bureaucratic tendency which may exist on
the part of the British official is kept in check, whilst his
individualism is subjected to a sustained and healthy course of tonic
treatment.
Thus, the British system breeds a race of officials who relatively to
those holding analogous posts on the Continent, are disposed to exercise
their central authority in a manner sympathetic to individualism; who,
if they are inclined to err in the sense of over-centralisation, are
often held in check by statesmen imbued with the decentralising spirit;
and who, under these influences, are inclined to accord to local agents
a far wider latitude than those trained in the Continental school of
bureaucracy would consider either safe or desirable.
On the other hand, looking to the position and attributes of the local
agents themselves, it is singular to observe how the habit of assuming
responsibility, coupled with national predispositions acting in the same
direction, generates and fosters a capacity for the beneficial exercise
of power. This feature is not merely noticeable in comparing British
with Continental officials, but also in contrasting various classes of
Englishmen _inter se_. The most highly centralised of all our English
offices is the War Office. For this reason, and also because a military
life necessarily and rightly engenders a habit of implicit obedience to
orders, soldiers are generally less disposed than civilians to assume
personal responsibility and to act on their own initiative.
Nevertheless, whether in military or civil life, it may be said that the
spirit of decentralisation pervades the whole British administrative
system, and that it has given birth to a class of officials who have
both the desire and the capacity to govern, who constitute what Bacon
called[14] the _Participes curarum_, namely, "those upon whom Princes
doe discharge the greatest weight of their affaires," and who are
instruments of incomparable value in the execution of a policy of
Imperialism.
The method of exercising the central control under the British system
calls for some further remarks. It varies greatly in different
localities.
Under the Indian system a council of experts is attached to the
Secretary of State in England. A good authority on this subject says[15]
that there can be no question of the advantage of this system.
No man, however experienced and laborious, could properly direct
and control the various interests of so vast an Empire, unless he
were aided by men with knowledge of different parts of the country,
and possessing an intimate acquaintance with the different and
complicated subjects involved in the government and welfare of so
many incongruous races.
On the assumption that India is to be governed from London, there can be
no doubt of the validity of this argument. But, as has been frequently
pointed out,[16] this system tends inevitably towards
over-centralisation, and if the British Government is to continue to
exercise a sort of πανκρατορία to use an expressive Greek phrase, over a
number of outlying dependencies of very various types,
over-centralisation is a danger which should be carefully shunned. It is
wiser to obtain local knowledge from those on the spot, rather than from
those whose local experience must necessarily diminish in value in
direct proportion to the length of the period during which they have
been absent from the special locality, and who, moreover, are under a
strong temptation, after they leave the dependency, to exercise a
detailed control over their successors. It is greatly to be doubted,
therefore, whether, should the occasion arise, this portion of the
Indian system is deserving of reproduction.
There is, however, another portion of that system which is in every
respect admirable, and the creation of which bears the impress of that
keen political insight which, according to many Continental authorities,
is the birthright of the Anglo-Saxon race. India is governed locally by
a council composed mainly of officials who have passed their adult lives
in the country; but the Viceroy, and occasionally the legal and
financial members of Council, are sent from England and are usually
chosen by reason of their general qualifications, rather than on account
of any special knowledge of Indian affairs. This system avoids the
dangers consequent on over-centralisation, whilst at the same time it
associates with the administration of the country some individuals who
are personally imbued with the general principles of government which
are favoured by the central authority. Its tendency is to correct the
defect from which the officials employed in the outlying portions of the
Empire are most likely to suffer, namely, that of magnifying the
importance of some local event or consideration, and of unduly
neglecting arguments based on considerations of wider Imperial import.
It enhances the idea of proportion, which is one of the main qualities
necessary to any politician or governing body. Long attention to one
subject, or group of subjects, is apt to narrow the vision of
specialists. The adjunct of an element, which is not Anglo-Indian, to
the Indian Government acts as a corrective to this evil. The members of
the Government who are sent from England, if they have no local
experience, are at all events exempt from local prejudices. They bring
to bear on the questions which come before them a wide general knowledge
and, in many cases, the liberal spirit and vigorous common sense which
are acquired in the course of an English parliamentary career.
It may be added, as a matter of important detail, that it would be
desirable, in order to give continuity to Indian policy, to select young
men to fill the place of Viceroy, and to extend the period of office
from five to seven, or even to ten years.
Although over-centralisation is to be avoided, a certain amount of
control from a central authority is not only unavoidable; if properly
exercised, it is most beneficial. One danger to which the local agent
is exposed is that, being ill-informed of circumstances lying outside
his range of political vision, he may lose sight of the general
principles which guide the policy of the Empire; he may treat subjects
of local interest in a manner calculated to damage, or even to
jeopardise, Imperial interests. The central authority is in a position
to obviate any danger arising from this cause. To ensure the harmonious
working of the different parts of the machine, the central authority
should endeavour, so far as is possible, to realise the circumstances
attendant on the government of the dependency; whilst the local agent
should be constantly on the watch lest he should overrate the importance
of some local issue, or fail to appreciate fully the difficulties which
beset the action of the central authority.
To sum up all that there is to be said on this branch of the subject, it
may be hoped that the fate which befell Rome, in so far as it was due to
the special causes of decay now under consideration, may be averted by
close adherence to two important principles. The first of these
principles is that local revenues should be expended locally. The second
is that over-centralisation should above all things be avoided. This may
be done either by the creation of self-governing institutions in those
dependencies whose civilisation is sufficiently advanced to justify the
adoption of this course; or by decentralising the executive Government
in cases where self-government, in the ordinary acceptation of the term,
is impossible or undesirable.
6. _Barbarous Finance._--Mr. Hodgkin says that the system of Imperial
taxation under the Roman Empire was "wasteful, oppressive, and in a
word, barbarous." He gives, as an instance in point, the Roman
Indiction. This was the name given to the system under which the taxable
value of the land throughout the Empire was reassessed every fifteen
years. At each reassessment, Mr. Hodgkin says, "the few who had
prospered found themselves assessed on the higher value which their
lands had acquired, while the many who were sinking down into poverty
obtained, it is to be feared, but little relief from taxation on account
of the higher rate which was charged to all."
It is somewhat unpleasant to reflect that the system which Mr. Hodgkin
so strongly condemns, and which he even regards as one of the causes of
the downfall of the Roman Empire, is--save in respect to the intervals
of periodical reassessment--very similar to that which exists everywhere
in India, except in the province of Bengal, where the rights conferred
on the zemindars under Lord Cornwallis's Permanent Settlement are still
respected in spite of occasional unwise suggestions that time and the
fall in the value of the rupee have obliterated any moral obligations to
maintain them. Nor are the results obtained in India altogether
dissimilar from those observable under Roman rule. The knowledge that
reassessment was imminent has, it is believed, often discouraged the
outlay of private capital on improving the land. More than this, it is
notorious that, at one time, some provinces suffered greatly from the
mistakes made by the settlement officers. These latter were animated
with the best intentions, but, in spite of their marked ability--for
they were all specially selected men--they often found the task
entrusted to them impossible of execution. Unfortunately political or
administrative errors cannot be condoned by reason of good intentions.
Like the Greeks of old, the natives of India suffer from the mistakes of
their rulers.
The intentions of the British, as compared with the Roman Government
are, however, noteworthy from one point of view, inasmuch as from a
correct appreciation of those intentions it is possible to evolve a
principle perhaps in some degree calculated to avert the consequences
which befell Rome, partly by reason of fiscal errors.
In spite of some high-sounding commonplaces which were at times
enunciated by Roman lawgivers and statesmen, and in which a ring of
utilitarian philosophy is to be recognised,[17] and of the further fact
that, as in the case of Verres, a check was sometimes applied to the
excesses of local Governors, it is almost certainly true that the rulers
of Rome did not habitually act on the recognition of any very strong
moral obligation binding on the Imperial Government in its treatment of
subject races. The merits of any fiscal system were probably judged
mainly from the point of view of the amount of funds which it poured
into the Treasury. The fiscal principles on which the Emperors of Rome
acted survived long after the fall of the Roman Empire. They deserve the
epithet of "barbarous" which Mr. Hodgkin has bestowed upon them.