war. Gallipoli's splendid failure had been recorded, the Australians
stood shoulder to shoulder with their British brothers in the French
trenches when the opportunity which was to make him a world citizen
knocked at his door.
In October, 1915, Andrew Fisher resigned the Premiership of Australia to
become High Commissioner in London, and Hughes was named as his
successor. The puny lad who had landed at Brisbane thirty years before
with half a crown in his pocket sat enthroned. The reins of power were
his and he lost no time in lashing them.
How he divorced the German from Australian trade: how he broke the
Teutonic monopoly of the Antipodean metal fields and established the
Australian Metal Exchange and made of it an Imperial institution for
Imperial revenue only: how he swept England with a torrent of fervid
oratory rousing the whole nation to its post-war commercial
responsibilities, are all part of very recent history already woven into
the fabric of this little volume.
"Reconstruct or decay" was his admonition. Reluctantly the great mass
of English people saw him leave their shores last summer. Already the
demand for his recall as unofficial Speeder-up of Patriotism is
simmering.
What of the man behind this drama of almost unparalleled performance?
To see Hughes in action is to get the impression of a human dynamo
suddenly let loose. His face is keen and sharp: his mouth thin: his
cheeks are shrunken: his arms and legs are long and he has a curious way
of stuffing his clenched fists into his trousers pockets. Some one has
called him the Mirabeau of the Australian Proletariat. Certainly he
looks it. He has a nervous energy almost beyond belief. By birth,
temperament, experience and point of view he is a firebrand, but with
this difference: he is a Human Flame that reasons.
Only Lloyd George surpasses him in force and fervour of eloquence. He
has a marvellous trick of expression that never fails to make a winning
appeal. His speeches are the Bible of the Australian worker, and they
are fast becoming part of the Gospel of the wide-awake and progressive
British wage-earner.
Since he was the first Statesman of the Empire to appreciate the grave
business responsibilities that will come with peace, it is interesting
to get his ideas on the relation between Trade and Government. In one of
his impassioned speeches in England he declared:
"The relations between modern trade interests and national welfare are
so intimate and complex that they cannot be treated as though they were
not parts of one organic whole. No sane person now suggests that the
foreign policy of the country should be dealt with by the
_laissez-faire_ policy. No one would dare openly to contend that the
national policy should be one of 'drift,' although I admit that there
are many most excellent persons who by their attitude seem to resent any
attempt to steer the ship of State along a definite course as being an
impious attempt to usurp the functions of Providence, whose special
business they conceive this to be.
"I want to make one thing quite clear, that what I am advocating is not
merely a change of fiscal policy, not merely or even necessarily what
is called Tariff Reform--although this may, probably will, incidentally
follow--but a fundamental change in our ideas of government as applied
to economic and national matters. The fact is that the whole concept of
modern statesmanship needs revision. But England has been, and is, the
chief of sinners. Quite apart from the idea of a self-contained Empire
there is the idea of Britain as an organized nation. And the British
Empire as an organized Empire, organised for trade, for industry, for
economic justice, for national defence, for the preservation of the
world's peace, for the protection of the weak against the strong. That
is a noble ideal. It ought to be--it must be--ours."
An extract from another notable address will reveal his gift of words.
Commenting on the frightful price in human life and treasure that the
Empire was paying, he said:
"Let us take this solemn lesson to heart. Let us, resolutely putting
aside all considerations of party, class, and doctrine, without delay,
proceed to devise a policy for the British Empire, a policy which shall
cover every phase of our national, economic, and social life; which
shall develop our tremendous resources, and yet be compatible with those
ideals of liberty and justice for which our ancestors fought and died,
and for which the men of our race now, in this, the greatest of all
wars, are fighting and dying in a fashion worthy of their breeding.
"Let us set sail upon a definite course as becomes a mighty nation to
whom has been entrusted the destiny of one-fourth of the whole human
race."
Hughes is the most accessible of men. The humblest wharf-rustler in
Australia hails him by his first name. A characteristic incident will
show the comradeship that exists between this leader and his
constituency.
On his last visit to England he crossed over to France to visit the
Australian troops at the front. He was walking through a trench
accompanied by General Birdwood, who is Commander-in-Chief of the
overseas contingent, and stopped to chat with a group of soldiers who
had fought at Gallipoli. Suddenly a shell shrieked overhead. A Tommy
from Sydney yelled to the Premier:
"Duck, Billy, duck!"
Here is practical democracy. Nowhere, in all the varied human side of
the war, does it find more impressive embodiment than in the self-made
little Australian whose life is a miracle of progress.
Of such stuff as this are the Builders of the British To-morrow!
THE END
End of Project Gutenberg's The War After the War, by Isaac Frederick Marcosson