the other hand, it cannot be doubted that, carried to excess, it is at
times apt to paralyse all effective and timely action, to disqualify
those who exercise it from being pilots possessed of sufficient daring
to steer the ship of state in troublous times, and to exclude them from
the category of men of action in the sense in which that term is
generally used. In spite of my great affection for Alfred Lyall, I am
forced to admit that, in his case, caution was, I think, at times
carried to excess. He never appeared to me to realise sufficiently that
the conduct of public affairs, notably in this democratic age, is at
best a very rough unscientific process; that it is occasionally
necessary to make a choice of evils or to act on imperfect evidence; and
that at times, to quote the words which I remember Lord Northbrook once
used to me, it is even better to have a wrong opinion than to have no
definite opinion at all. So early as 1868, he wrote to his mother,
"There are many topics on which I have not definitely discovered what I
do think"; and to the day of his death he very generally maintained in
respect to current politics the frame of mind set forth in this very
characteristic utterance. Every general has to risk the loss of a
battle, and every active politician has at times to run the risk of
making a wrong forecast. Before running that risk, Lyall was generally
inclined to exhaust the chances of error to an extent which was often
impossible, or at all events hurtful.
Sir Mortimer Durand refers to the history of the Ilbert Bill, a measure
under which Lord Ripon's Government proposed to give native magistrates
jurisdiction over Europeans in certain circumstances. I was at the time
(1882-83) Financial Member of the Viceroy's Council. After a lapse of
thirty years, there can, I think, be no objection to my stating my
recollections of what occurred in connexion with this subject. I should,
in the first instance, mention that the association of Mr. (now Sir
Courtenay) Ilbert's name with this measure was purely accidental. He had
nothing to do with its initiation. The proposals, which were eventually
embodied in the Bill, originated with Sir Ashley Eden, who was
Lieutenant-Governor of Bengal, and who certainly could not be accused of
any wish to neglect European opinion, or of any desire to push forward
extreme liberal measures conceived in native interests. The measure had
been under the consideration of the Legislative Department in the time
of Mr. Ilbert's predecessor in the office of Legal Member of Council,
and it was only the accident that he vacated his office before it was
introduced into the Legislative Council that associated Mr. Ilbert's
name with the Bill.
As was customary in such cases, all the local Governments had been
consulted; and they again consulted the Commissioners,
Deputy-Commissioners, Collectors, etc., within their respective
provinces. The result was that Lord Ripon had before him the opinions of
practically the whole Civil Service of India. Divers views were held as
to the actual extent to which the law should be altered, but, in the
words of a despatch addressed by the Government of India to the
Secretary of State on September 9, 1882, the local reports showed "an
overwhelming consensus of opinion that the time had come for modifying
the existing law and removing the present absolute bar upon the
investment of native magistrates in the interior with powers over
European British subjects." Not one single official gave anything
approaching an indication of the storm of opposition that this ill-fated
measure was about to raise. I do not think that this is very
surprising, for the opposition came almost exclusively from the
unofficial Europeans, who for the most part congregate in a few large
commercial centres, with the result that the majority of the civilians,
who are scattered throughout the country, are not much brought in
contact with them. Nevertheless, the fact that so great a miscalculation
of the state of public opinion could be made left a deep impression on
my mind. The main lesson which I carried away from the Ilbert Bill
controversy was, indeed, that in spite of their great merits, which no
one recognises more fully than myself, it is possible at times for the
whole body of Indian civilians, taken collectively, to be somewhat
unsafe guides in matters of state policy. Curiously enough, the only
danger-signal which was raised was hoisted by Sir Henry Maine, who had
been in India as Legal Member of Council, but who did not belong to the
Indian Civil Service. He was at the time a member of the India Council.
When the despatch of the Government of India on the subject reached
London, Sir Henry Maine was travelling on the Continent. The papers were
sent to him. He called to mind the bitter controversy which arose over
what was known as "the Black Act" in Lord William Bentinck's time, and
wrote privately a few words of warning to Lord Hartington, who was at
the time Secretary of State for India. Lord Hartington put the letter
in his great-coat pocket, went to Newmarket, and forgot all about it,
with the result that Sir Henry Maine's warning never reached Lord Ripon.
I well remember being present when Mr. Ilbert introduced the measure
into the Legislative Council. It attracted but little attention and led
to only a very brief discussion, in which I took no part. The papers had
been circulated to all Members of Council, including myself. When I
received them I saw at a glance that the subject was not one that
concerned my own department, or one as to which my opinion could be of
any value. I, therefore, merely endorsed the papers with my initials and
sent them on, without having given the subject much attention. In common
with all my colleagues, I was soon to learn the gravity of the step
which had been taken. A furious storm of opposition, which profoundly
shook the prestige and authority of the Government of India, and notably
of the Viceroy, arose. It was clear that a mistake had been made. The
measure was in itself not very important. It was obviously undesirable,
as Lyall remarked, to "set fire to an important wing of the house in
order to roast a healthy but small pig." The best plan, had it been
possible, would have been to admit the mistake and to withdraw the
measure; and this would certainly have been done had it not been for the
unseemly and extravagant violence of the European unofficial community,
notably that of Calcutta. It should, however, in fairness be stated that
they were irritated and alarmed, not so much at the acts of Lord Ripon's
Government, but at some rather indiscreet language which had at times
been used, and which led them, quite erroneously, to suspect that
extreme measures were in contemplation, of a nature calculated to shake
the foundations of British supremacy in India. This violent attitude
naturally led to reprisals and bitter recriminations from the native
press, with the result that the total withdrawal of the measure would
have been construed as a decisive defeat to the adoption of even the
most moderate measures of liberal reform in India. The project of total
withdrawal could not, therefore, be entertained.
In these circumstances, the duty of a practical rough-and-ready
politician was very clearly indicated. However little he might care for
the measure on its own merits, political instinct pointed unmistakably
to the absolute necessity of affording strong support to the Viceroy.
Lyall failed to realise this fully. He admired Lord Ripon's courage. "We
must," he said, "all do our best to pull the Viceroy through." But
withal it is clear, by his own admission, that he only gave the Viceroy
"rather lukewarm support." "I have intrenched myself," he wrote in a
characteristic letter, "behind cautious proposals, and am quoted on both
sides." This attitude was not due to any want of moral courage, for a
more courageous man, both physically and morally, than Lyall never
lived. It was simply the result of what Lord Lytton called "the Lyall
habit of seeing both sides of a question," and not being able to decide
betimes which side to support. That a man of Lyall's philosophical and
reflective turn of mind should see both sides of a question is not only
natural but commendable, but this frame of mind is not one that can be
adopted without hazard by a man of action at the head of affairs at a
time of acute crisis.
There is, however, a reverse side to this picture. The same mental
attributes which rendered Lyall somewhat unfit, in my opinion, to deal
with an incident such as the Ilbert Bill episode, enabled him to come
with credit and distinction out of a situation of extreme difficulty in
which the reputation of many another man would have foundered. I have no
wish or intention to stir up again the embers of past Afghan
controversies. It will be sufficient for my purpose to say that Lord
Lytton, immensely to his credit, recognised Lyall's abilities and
appointed him Foreign Secretary, in spite of the fact that he was
associated with the execution of a policy to which Lord Lytton himself
was strongly opposed, and which he had decided to reverse. Lyall did not
conceal his opinions, but, as always, he was open to conviction, and saw
both sides of a difficult question. In 1878, he was "quite in favour of
vigorous action to counteract the Russians"; but two years later, in
1880, after the Cavagnari murder, he records in a characteristic letter
that he "was mentally edging back towards old John Lawrence's counsel
never to embark on the shoreless sea of Afghan politics." On the whole,
it may be said that Lyall passed through this supreme test in a manner
which would not have been possible to any man unless endowed not merely
with great abilities, but with the highest degree of moral courage and
honesty of purpose. He preserved his own self-esteem, and by his
unswerving honesty and loyalty gained that of the partisans on both
sides of the controversy.
It is pleasant to turn from these episodes to other features in Lyall's
career and character, in respect to which unstinted eulogy, without the
qualification of a shade of criticism, may be recorded. It was more
especially in dealing with the larger and more general aspects of
Eastern affairs that Lyall's genius shone most brightly. He had what
the French call a _flair_ in dealing with the main issues of Oriental
politics such as, so far as my experience goes, is possessed by few. It
was very similar to the qualities displayed by the late Lord Salisbury
in dealing with foreign affairs generally. I give an instance in point.
In 1884, almost every newspaper in England was declaiming loudly about
the dangers to be apprehended if the rebellion excited by the Mahdi in
the Soudan was not promptly crushed. It was thought that this rebellion
was but the precursor of a general and formidable offensive movement
throughout the Islamic world. "What," General Gordon, whose opinion at
the time carried great weight, had asked, "is to prevent the Mahdi's
adherents gaining Mecca? Once at Mecca we may look out for squalls in
Turkey," etc. He, as also Lord Wolseley, insisted on the absolute
necessity of "smashing the Mahdi." We now know that these fears were
exaggerated, and that the Mahdist movement was of purely local
importance. Lyall had no special acquaintance with Egyptian or Soudanese
affairs, but his general knowledge of the East and of Easterns enabled
him at once to gauge correctly the true nature of the danger.
Undisturbed by the clamour which prevailed around him, he wrote to Mr.
Henry Reeve on March 21, 1884: "The Mahdi's fortunes do not interest
India. The talk in some of the papers about the necessity of smashing
him, in order to avert the risk of some general Mahomedan uprising, is
futile and imaginative."[50]
I need say no more. I am glad, for the sake of Lyall's own reputation,
that the offer of the Viceroyalty was never made to him. Apart from the
question of his age, which, in 1894, was somewhat too advanced to admit
of his undertaking such onerous duties, I doubt if he possessed
sufficient experience of English public life--a qualification which is
yearly becoming of greater importance--to enable him to fill the post in
a satisfactory manner. In spite, moreover, of his splendid intellectual
gifts and moral elevation of thought, it is very questionable whether on
the whole he would have been the right man in the right place.
Lyall's name will not, like those of some other Indian notabilities, go
down to posterity as having been specially connected with any one
episode or event of supreme historical importance; but, when those of
the present generation who regarded him with esteem and affection have
passed away, he will still deserve an important niche in the Temple of
Fame as a thinker who thoroughly understood the East, and who probably
did more than any of his contemporaries or predecessors to make his
countrymen understand and sympathise with the views held by the many
millions in India whose destinies are committed to their charge. His
experience and special mental equipment eminently fitted him to perform
the task he took in hand. England, albeit a prolific mother of great men
in every department of thought and action, has not produced many Lyalls.
[Footnote 48: _Nineteenth Century_, May 1913, p. 972.]
[Footnote 49: When I was at Delhi in 1881, a Nikolsaini, _i.e._ a
worshipper of John Nicholson, came to see me. He showed me a miniature
of Nicholson with his head surrounded by an aureole.]
[Footnote 50: _Memoirs of Henry Reeve_, ii. 329.]
"THE NINETEENTH CENTURY AND AFTER"
IV
ARMY REFORM
_"The Nineteenth Century and After," February 1904_
The autobiography[51] of my old and highly esteemed friend, Lord
Wolseley, constitutes an honourable record of a well-spent life. Lord
Wolseley may justifiably be proud of the services which he has rendered
to his country. The British nation, and its principal executive
officials in the past, may also be proud of having quickly discovered
Lord Wolseley's talents and merits, and of having advanced him to high
position.
Obviously, certain conclusions of public interest may be drawn from the
career of this very distinguished soldier. Sir George Arthur, in the
December number of the _Fortnightly Review_, has stated what are the
special lessons which, in his opinion, are to be derived from a
consideration of that career.
Those lessons are, indeed, sufficiently numerous. I propose, however, to
deal with only two of them. They are those which, apparently, Lord
Wolseley himself wishes to be inculcated. Both involve questions of
principle of no little importance.
In the first place, Lord Wolseley, if I understand rightly, considers
that the army has suffered greatly from civilian interference. He
appears to think that it should be more exclusively than heretofore
under military control.
In the second place, he thinks that, in certain cases, the political and
diplomatic negotiations, which generally follow on a war, should be
conducted, not by a diplomatist or politician, but by the officer who
has conducted the previous military operations.
As regards the first point, I am not now dealing with Lord Wolseley's
remarks in connection with our general unpreparedness for war, nor with
those on the various defects, past or present, of our military
organisation. In a great deal that he has said on these subjects, Lord
Wolseley carries me heartily with him. I confine myself strictly to the
issue as I have defined it above.
Possibly, I have mistaken the significance of Lord Wolseley's words. If
so, my error is shared by Sir George Arthur, who, in dealing with the
War Office, dwells with emphasis on the occasions when "this great war
expert was thwarted in respect of his best considered plans by the
civilian element in that citadel of inefficiency,"[52] and speaks with
approval of Lord Wolseley's "severe strictures on blundering civilian
interference with the army," as also of the "censure reserved for the
criminal negligence and miserable cowardice of successive Cabinets."
It seems to me that Lord Wolseley is rather hard on civilians in
general--those "iconoclastic civilian officials who meddle and muddle in
army matters"[53]--on politicians in particular, who, I cannot but
think, are not quite so black as he has painted them; and most of all on
Secretaries of State, with the single exception of Lord Cardwell, to
whom generous and very well deserved praise is accorded.
It is not quite clear, from a perusal of these volumes, what is the
precise nature of the change which Lord Wolseley wishes to advocate,
although in one passage a specific proposal is made. It is that "a
certificate should be annually laid before Parliament by the
non-political Commander-in-Chief, that the whole of the military forces
of the Empire can be completely and effectively equipped for war in a
fortnight." The general tendency of the reform which commends itself to
Lord Wolseley may, however, readily be inferred. He complains that the
soldiers, "though in office, are never in power." Nevertheless, as he
explains with military frankness, "the cunning politician," when
anything goes wrong, is able "to turn the wrath of a deceived people
upon the military authorities, and those who are exclusively to blame
are too often allowed to sneak off unhurt in the turmoil of execration
they have raised against the soldiers." I may remark incidentally that
exception might perhaps reasonably be taken to the use of the word
"exclusively" in this passage; but the main point to which I wish to
draw attention is that clearly, in Lord Wolseley's opinion, the
soldiers, under the existing system, have not sufficient power, and that
it would be advisable that they should, under a reformed system, be
invested with more ample power. I dare say Lord Wolseley is quite right,
at all events to this extent, that it is desirable that the power, as
also the responsibility, of the highest military authorities should be
as clearly defined as is possible under our peculiar system of
government. But it is essential to ascertain more accurately in what
manner Lord Wolseley, speaking with all the high authority which
deservedly attaches itself to his name, thinks that effect should be
given to the principle which he advocates. In order to obtain this
information, I turn to vol. i. p. 92, where I find the following
passage: "A man who is not a soldier, and who is entirely ignorant of
war, is selected solely for political reasons to be Secretary of State
for War. I might with quite as great propriety be selected to be the
chief surgeon in a hospital."
I would here digress for a moment to deal with the argument advanced in
the latter part of this sentence. It is very plausible, and, at first
sight, appears convincing. It is also very commonly used. Over and over
again, I have heard the presumed analogy between the surgeon and the
soldier advanced as a proof of the absurdity of the English system. I
believe that no such analogy exists. Surgery is an exact science. To
perform even the most trifling surgical operation requires careful
technical training and experience. It is far otherwise with the case of
the soldier. I do not suppose that any civilian in his senses would
presume, on a purely technical matter, to weigh his own opinion against
that of a trained soldier, like Lord Wolseley, who is thoroughly versed
in the theory of his profession, and who has been through the school of
actual war. But a large number of the most important questions affecting
military organisation and the conduct of military affairs, require for
their solution little or no technical knowledge. Any man of ordinary
common sense can form an opinion on them, and any man of good business
habits may readily become a capable agent for giving effect to the
opinions which he, or which others have formed.
I may here perhaps give a page from my own personal experience bearing
on the point under discussion.
The Soudan campaign of 1896-98 was, in official circles, dubbed a
"Foreign Office war." For a variety of reasons, to which it is
unnecessary to allude in detail, the Sirdar was, from the commencement
of the operations, placed exclusively under my orders in all matters.
The War Office assumed no responsibility, and issued no orders.[54] A
corresponding position was occupied by the Headquarters Staff of the
Army of Occupation in Cairo. The result was that I found myself in the
somewhat singular position of a civilian, who had had some little
military training in his youth, but who had had no experience of
war,[55] whose proper functions were diplomacy and administration, but
who, under the stress of circumstances in the Land of Paradox, had to be
ultimately responsible for the maintenance, and even, to some extent,
for the movements of an army of some 25,000 men in the field.
That good results were obtained under this system cannot be doubted. It
will not, therefore, be devoid of interest to explain how it worked in
practice, and what were the main reasons which contributed towards
success.
I have no wish to disparage the strategical and tactical ability which
were displayed in the conduct of the campaign. It is, however, a fact
that no occasion arose for the display of any great skill in these
branches of military knowledge. When once the British and Egyptian
troops were brought face to face with the enemy, there could--unless
the conditions under which they fought were altogether extraordinary--be
little doubt of the result. The speedy and successful issue of the
campaign depended, in fact, almost entirely upon the methods adopted for
overcoming the very exceptional difficulties connected with the supply
and transport of the troops. The main quality required to meet these
difficulties was a good head for business. By one of those fortunate
accidents which have been frequent in the history of Anglo-Saxon
enterprise, a man was found equal to the occasion. Lord Kitchener of
Khartoum won his well-deserved peerage because he was a good man of
business; he looked carefully after all important detail, and he
enforced economy.
My own merits, such as they were, were of a purely negative character.
They may be summed up in a single phrase. I abstained from mischievous
activity, and I acted as a check on the interference of others. I had
full confidence in the abilities of the commander, whom I had
practically myself chosen, and, except when he asked for my assistance,
I left him entirely alone. I encouraged him to pay no attention to those
vexatious bureaucratic formalities with which, under the slang phrase of
"red tape" our military system is overburdened. I exercised some little
control over the demands for stores which were sent to the London War
Office; and the mere fact that these demands passed through my hands,
and that I declined to forward any request unless, besides being in
accordance with existing regulations--a point to which I attached but
slight importance--it had been authorised by the Sirdar, probably tended
to check wastefulness in that quarter where it was most to be feared.
Beyond this I did nothing, and I found--somewhat to my own
astonishment--that, with my ordinary staff of four diplomatic
secretaries, the general direction of a war of no inconsiderable
dimensions added but little to my ordinary labours.
I do not say that this system would always work as successfully as was
the case during the Khartoum campaign. The facts, as I have already
said, were peculiar. The commander, on whom everything practically
depended, was a man of marked military and administrative ability.
Nevertheless, I feel certain that Lord Kitchener would bear me out in
saying that here was a case in which general civilian control, far from
exercising any detrimental effect, was on the whole beneficial.
To return to the main thread of my argument. The passage which I have
quoted from Lord Wolseley's book would certainly appear to point to the
conclusion that, in his opinion, the Secretary of State for War should
be a soldier unconnected with politics. Even although Lord Wolseley does
not state this conclusion in so many words, it is notorious to any one
who is familiar with the views current in army circles that the adoption
of this plan is considered by many to be the best, if it be not the
only, solution of all our military difficulties.
I am not concerned with the constitutional objections which may be urged
against the change of system now under discussion. Neither need I dwell
on the difficulty of making it harmonise with our system of party
government, for which it is quite possible to entertain a certain
feeling of respect and admiration without being in any degree a
political partisan. I approach the question exclusively from the point
of view of its effects on the army. From that point of view, I venture
to think that the change is to be deprecated.