Have you a right to vote, and if so where did you get it? You may answer
these questions just as you please; but the fact is, if you go insane or
commit a crime the government takes away your right to vote because of
your incapacity. You are assumed to have the capacity and therefore the
right unless it is proved to the contrary; but let it not be forgotten
that the capacity is fundamental and antecedent to the right, otherwise
our theory will always seem inconsistent with our practice.
And that is what mystifies so many of us just now. We have made no
mistake in our practice, but we have made a mistake in trying to justify
the practice by an unfounded theory, and it doesn’t work. We as a nation
have simply been idealizing the rights of man, liberty and
self-government, forgetting that these are all secondary to capacity,
just as did the eighteenth century doctrinaires.
So far with the analogy. Now, can any one give a good, valid reason why
the same conclusions would not apply to a community or tribe or race
within a state which is held to be incapable—the Indians, for instance,
or the emancipated slaves? Certainly not. Now, is there any ethical
reason why the same conclusions would not apply to an incompetent
nation? Certainly not. The difficulty to be encountered is a practical
one, because, first, there is no international court to decide upon the
capacity of a race to govern itself, and, second, there is no
international power to act as guardian for incompetent or backward
races.
How is it with the family of nations to-day? A few of them are forging
ahead at a marvelous rate, a good many more are like Micawber’s wife,
continually _in statu quo_, while others still are suffering a
noticeable decline, and finally there are races or tribes which have
never been organized into states or nations, and which if left to
themselves probably never will be. And to what shall we liken this
family of nations? It is like a settlement beyond the frontier of
civilization, with no law above them except a neighborhood agreement—a
settlement made up of a few progressive men, a number of “ne’er do
weels”, several idiots and insane and a number of dissolutes. The best
that one could hope for in such a situation would be for the progressive
men to infuse some life and energy into the “ne’er do weels”, remove all
destructive agencies from the hands of the idiots and insane and put the
dissolutes under watch and ward. Instead, however, the state of things
that we actually see is this: the dissolutes are rebellious, the idiots
are idiots, the “ne’er do weels” are suspicious, and worst of all, the
progressive men are jealous of each other. In the absence of
cohesiveness and harmony in this settlement, one of these progressive
men has shown a disposition sometimes domineering, sometimes kindly, but
a disposition nevertheless to maintain law and order, and a fondness for
having a hand in enforcing it, and that man is Mr. Anglo-Saxon. He never
puts his hand to this business without calling down the imprecations of
the whole neighborhood upon himself as a tyrant, and yet freedom,
prosperity and progress go with him. He doesn’t believe much in passive
goodness. He has learned the lesson of self-government and he proposes
to teach it to his less progressive neighbors whether or no; and when
they have once learned it they may stay under his protection or not,
just as they please, and the significant fact is that they are not only
glad to stay but to fight for him when they have once learned his idea
of freedom.
A fanatic may say, “I prefer my own government, not because it is the
best, but because it is mine”. That may well be as between two
progressive nations, but as between a progressive and a retrograde or
incompetent government, it is sheer fanaticism. It avails nothing in
such a case to quote the words of Lincoln: “No man is good enough to
govern another man against that other man’s consent”, for these words
were uttered concerning human bondage which is by no means analogous to
a loss of independence by a state. Canada has no political independence,
technically, but are Canadians in bondage? Are the Australians, the
Hindus, the Egyptians, in bondage?
No nation has a right to remain in the backwoods (pardon the homely
expression). The facilities for travel and inter-communication are so
vastly improved the “double coincidence of wants and possessions” has
become so general, the bar of language, custom, religion and race is so
rapidly disappearing—in a word, the nations of the earth are becoming
such near neighbors to each other that each must be personally
interested, so to speak, in the welfare of the others. If a man’s
nearest neighbors are some miles distant, the way they get their living
or govern their households may be of small interest to him; but let them
move up to adjoining lots and it makes a world of difference whether
their business is reputable, and whether their households are quiet and
orderly.
No nation is safe when it remains in the backwoods. When two races, a
more civilized and a less civilized, come into close quarters as
neighbors the latter must improve or go to the wall. And this is not so
much a moral as it is a physical question; for an area of land that will
support one hunter will support a hundred farmers, and nature is
economic in this as in every other matter. It is not so much that the
weak must yield to the strong as it is that the ineffectual must give
way to the effectual—just the ordinary law of evolution.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
“No Nation has a right
to remain
in the backwoods”
See page 169.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Like all natural laws it is merciless; and being a natural law it is
neither to be condemned nor justified; yet again, like other natural
laws, its rigor may and should be mitigated. In short, the superior race
should regard the inferior much as a schoolmaster does an intractable
youth, who must be dealt with kindly and patiently, admonished
repeatedly and perhaps punished severely.
No nation has a right to remain in the backwoods. A country that shuts
its eyes to progress in other lands, a people whose all-sufficient
answer is, “What was good enough for our fathers is good enough for us”,
a nation which stands for tyranny, for corruption, for instability, for
retrogression, of any sort, has no one to blame but itself when the
widening breach which separates it from advancing civilization is closed
with a violence that destroys its identity.
[Illustration: A MENACE.]
An unstable government is a standing menace to all neighboring
governments. It is the rottenness of Turkey, more than the cupidity of
the powers, that constantly endangers the peace of Europe. It was the
rottenness of Spanish colonial administration and not our own cupidity,
that brought on the Spanish war. It is the turbulence of the South
American republics rather than their weakness, that in spite of the
protection of the Monroe doctrine may yet invite European intervention.
The culpability of the incompetent powers is a theme we hear much less
about than the “rapacity” of the “harpy powers”—and why? Because of that
childish tendency to take the part of the “under dog”, no matter whose
the fault.
It would seem a necessary conclusion, therefore, that whenever a people
demonstrates its incapacity to learn self-government by its own unaided
effort, or whenever from any cause its civilization is far in the rear
of the times, that the best interests both of itself and of the rest of
humanity demand that it be placed under a governmental pedagogue, at
least until it attains its majority. And this is no less true though the
people rebel and many lives be lost, provided that it means progress for
the race—“the greatest good to the greatest number”. Who would claim
that Egypt would be better off without the wise guidance of England, or
who now counts the lives that were lost in India in the establishment of
her beneficent reign?
Hence, not all governments derive their just powers from the consent of
the governed, for this sublime statement of the Declaration applies to
those only who are fit for self-government. We hold it now as we always
have held it, a governmental ideal which we mean to realize; for in
practice we never have followed it in our dealings with the Indians, and
we never made a greater mistake than in following it too literally in
the days of “reconstruction”.
It should be observed that the Philippine question, coming upon us as it
did, all unlooked for and unsought, made our duty all the more
unmistakable. No time was given to judge of the capacity of the people
for self-government, nor to ask whether ours was the nation to assume
sovereignty. We were simply confronted with a situation. The logic of
events (or shall we not say the hand of Providence?) had placed upon us
a responsibility which, whether desirable or undesirable, we could not
shirk. We stood sponsor to the world for the islands, the sovereignty
over which we had destroyed. As a question of international law there
could be no doubt of our sovereignty.
“But”, says the anti-imperialist, “this is ignoring the rights of the
inhabitants”, and then he proceeds in academic fashion to solve the
whole problem by a very simple syllogism, thus:
Major premise—All just government is founded upon the consent of the
governed.
Minor premise—The natives of the Philippines are in need of a just
government.
Conclusion—The Philippines should be left to take care of themselves.
And this pleasant bit of sophistry actually passes for argument among
those who do not stop to see the gaps in it—who do not reflect that a
government is a growth, and not a mere artificial structure to be
erected by inexperienced hands—who do not reflect that something is due
to international comity, and that the nations would certainly have to be
reckoned with in the advent of a new power—and finally, who will not
give candid consideration to the unanimous testimony of such men as
Schurman, Worcester, Denby, Otis and Dewey to the effect that “no tie of
race, religion, sympathy or common interest of any kind holds the
natives together or justifies a belief in their capacity for
self-government”!
But other objections are raised against American occupation of the
Philippines. It is alleged that it is contrary to our traditional
policy; that it is in disregard of the advice of Washington to “avoid
entangling alliances”; that it sacrifices our “splendid isolation”, and
makes us more vulnerable to a foreign enemy.
All these objections—if objections they are—must be met by a frank
admission. But it is worth while to inquire into their validity as
objections—to see whether they should have as much weight henceforth as
they have had in the past; for we must all see very plainly that the
policy of “expansion” involves a radical change in our world relations—a
change somewhat at variance with our historic policy.
Let me not be misunderstood when I say that a certain reserve (to use no
stronger term) has always characterized our government—not our citizens,
mind you, but our government—that we have exhibited toward the “Old
World” such an attitude as, who should say—“We have come out into this
New World to escape the tyranny of the Old. We have explored it,
conquered it, settled it, and then won our independence from the Old. We
consider our land and its government peculiarly suited to become the
‘land of the free and the home of the brave’—‘a home for the oppressed
of all nations’. We intend to stay at home and not meddle in your
affairs, and we expect you to do the same”.
An attitude such as this is just what one would expect in the light of
colonial and revolutionary history. But there is another—a politic
reason: a weak power with a flattering prospect of becoming a great one
is just such a prize as would tempt the cupidity of stronger powers;
hence it would desire nothing so much as to be let alone. Such a power
should above all things “avoid entangling alliances”—keep to itself
until its strength is developed. Such a power we were when those words
were uttered, and such we remained as long as the schism of slavery
existed, so that never did we realize our full, united strength until
called into action against Spain. Up to the present, then, Washington’s
advice has proved sound policy.
What then; are we about to abandon it? No, but we are about to abandon a
perverted interpretation of it and that, too, not so much from choice as
from necessity. We are beginning to see that a measure of prudence for a
weak power is by no means equally wise when that power has grown strong.
We are beginning to see, also, that a false interpretation of it has
somehow become common, which would confine our activities, save in a
commercial way, to our own boundaries. It somehow assumes that we are as
large and influential now as we were ever intended to be; that our
future development is to be altogether internal.
To admit the truth of this—to admit that there is a limit to the area of
our country beyond which it is imprudent to go, to admit that our
country, being a republic, cannot consistently possess or successfully
administer any foreign territory, whether detached points of military
and commercial importance or portions of mainland—to admit all this is
to admit the inability of our government to hold its own with the best.
The “government” in England is no less democratic than the
“administration” in America, and yet England leads the world in
colonization.
Expansion in its broadest sense is not new. It is as old, almost, as the
government itself. We have merely come to the point of extending its
application to other lands, as England has long been doing, and that,
too, at a time when rapid transit and communication have simplified the
task inconceivably. The policy of expansion was in the air in
1893—though it had not yet received a name—when the weight of public
opinion demanded of our executive that the Hawaiian Islands should not
be restored to an incompetent queen. Americans have not yet forgotten
their chagrin, nor how European diplomats laughed at the spectacle of
the “Great Republic”, wanting so much to do the thing it ought while
imagining that its hands were tied by the stay-at-home tradition. This
same timidity or reticence or reserve or self-distrust or
self-satisfaction, call it by whichever term you choose, has already
lost for us the Samoan Islands (save one), Hayti and other strategic
points.
There is some gratification to be sure in being able to show the world,
as we have done, an example of a country which is not grasping for
territory—which can even reject a point of advantage offered by the
inhabitants thereof, feeling that the sacrifice of territory is better
for us than the sacrifice of the principle of self-government for them.
But in neither Samoa nor Hayti has the subsequent history of those
places justified our rejection of them, either for their sake or our
own. Moreover as far as its influence on the world is concerned it seems
to have failed of its effect, if one may judge by the accusation of
avarice that assailed us at the outbreak of the Spanish war.
It took more than the Philippine question, more than the Spanish war, to
inaugurate the policy of “expansion”. These merely furnished the
occasion for that toward which the progress of the world was leading us.
To put it in a word—we have expanded because our “splendid isolation” is
gone, rather than that our isolation is gone because we have expanded;
and our isolation is gone because of the progress of the world.
The great international factors of to-day, bringing the nations into
common markets and common councils, pouring the commerce, news,
literature, customs, life, of each into all the others, are the
steamship and the cable. These have done more for America, probably,
than for any other nation; for more than any other agency they have
destroyed her isolation. But they have done even more than that; for
they have made her virtually central.
It was customary a few years ago—is yet in some quarters—to speak of the
Pacific Ocean as if it were the backyard of the globe. It was imagined
by one devout geographer that the hand of an all-wise Providence could
be seen in arranging it so that the most civilized countries of the
earth front upon the same ocean—the Atlantic. But the improvement of the
steamship is equivalent to the reduction of distance, and this added to
the establishment of bases of traffic virtually narrows the Pacific down
to a smaller ocean than the Atlantic used to be. Thus America, between
the great manufacturing centers of Europe and the greatest of markets in
Asia, with the best of pathways to each, seems destined to become the
central market of the world; and with the Nicaragua canal severing the
Isthmus and the cable crossing the Pacific her position will be made all
the more central as well as defensible.
As a mere matter of policy, why should we not adopt expansion? Who ever
knew a recluse of a nation to attain to national greatness of any kind,
or to send forth leaders of men? In such a nation one inevitable result
must be the provincializing and sectionalizing of men and measures,
until breadth of statesmanship and catholicity of sympathy are unknown.
Americans may well profit by contrasting the statesmanship of her
consuls and diplomats abroad with that of certain leaders at home. The
former, accustomed to view the national policy from without are
practically unanimous so far as they have expressed themselves in urging
that we come out of our seclusion. “Happily”, says one, “such an ideal
is as impossible as it is ignoble and retrograde. Impelled by
irresistible forces we are already beginning to look outward, and are
preparing to take the high place among the nations to which our strength
entitles us. We should be unworthy members of the stout-hearted race to
which we belong if we were daunted by the dangers and burdens of the
wider activities upon which we are entering”.
The matter of greatest concern in the policy of expansion is, after all,
not financial or political gain, but the reflex influence upon the
individual citizen, and here we can only speculate. It is alleged on the
one hand that expansion offers opportunities for corruption such as we
never have known in municipal misgovernment, that it will lodge power in
the hands of officials at a distance from those to whom they are
responsible, that our treatment of inferior races at home does not
justify our undertaking the same thing abroad, and that it is downright
hypocrisy for us, a democratic people, to attempt the government of any
other people.
There are certain defects common to all of these objections. It should
be noticed, in the first place, that they seize upon the most
conspicuous features of misgovernment in America as if they were
typical, and consequently the very thing to be expected in foreign
service; secondly, they indicate a pessimistic distrust of men—a
distrust masquerading as prudence and conservatism—which is neither
justified by the sum of the facts nor is it healthful for those who urge
them; thirdly, they assume the equal right of all men to govern
themselves regardless of capacity.
It should be noticed, moreover, that, as a rule, officers who receive
their positions by appointment are held more strictly to account than
are those who are elected by ballot; for the latter are not as apt to be
removed for inefficiency or corruption as the former. Besides they have
the machine back of them instead of the people or the President. Hence,
since officers for the foreign administrative service would necessarily
be chosen by the administration, as are those in the consular and
diplomatic service, it is not too much to expect even a better
government for the dependencies than for ourselves—however strange it
may seem to say so.
It should be noticed again that good government is more likely to be the
rule than the exception in our dependencies for the following reasons:
First, oppression, or misgovernment of any kind, does not pay. As has
often been pointed out, this is the one great lesson that England
learned in the Revolutionary War, and she has made good use of it ever
since. The primary object, first, last and always, must be the welfare
of the dependency; otherwise it is all a hypocritical delusion,
containing nothing so good as the seeds of its own destruction. Second,
American pride in what Americans can do will not accept any but the best
results, especially when nearly all the world is looking on
distrustfully.
Third, the one race which by common consent has best solved the problem
of self-government is the Anglo-Saxon, and the Philippines are to be
congratulated upon being under its instruction.
It should be noticed that there are reasons for believing that instead
of having a harmful influence upon the American commonwealth the
influence of expansion will be healthful. Corruption in politics is
generally a direct result of the indifference of the citizen, an
indifference arising from an unwarranted sense of security. The citizen
must learn to feel that he has now an added responsibility, a deeper
obligation to humanity to make his own government as pure as possible;
for the idea of expansion involves an assumption of superiority upon our
part—an assumption that we must make good in every particular. Lynch law
and municipal corruption must cease altogether; for we have given
ourselves to the world as an example not only of good government, but of
good self-government, and we cannot afford that even occasional
exceptions shall be tolerated. We should have more politicians, not
fewer—so that scoundrels could find no room in the business.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
“Splendid Isolation”
See page 179
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Moreover, our newly assumed responsibilities will have the effect of
developing and training in leadership. It is a most significant lesson
to Americans that this practical training of leaders and rulers of men
has enabled England, according to some writers, to make such great
advancement in municipal government.
Some notice is due to the objection that these outlying possessions
render us more vulnerable in case of war; that because of their wide
separation and the enormous increase of coast line the task of defense
will be greatly augmented. This is evidently true; and it is no less
true and no less evident that in the same ratio will our means of
defense be augmented; for the fighting of the future will be naval more
and more as the years go by; and naval warfare demands, first, a navy,
and, second, bases of operation.
But a navy is expensive both to create and to maintain, and our new
policy will demand a largely increased navy and an enormous outlay of
money. Yes, but this has long been needed by our foreign commerce, and
the lack of it for this purpose has been disastrous. A nation whose
merchants pay out half a million dollars every day for transportation in
foreign vessels (I quote the words of the chief engineer of the navy),
certainly ought to do all in its power to encourage its own merchant
marine, at least by furnishing adequate protection. Think of it! a half
a million saved every day would build a $3,000,000 battleship in one
week. Why, we paid out enough in pensions in one year to build
twenty-five such vessels. This ought to suggest to every one that “an
ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure”. Hence, though a navy is
expensive, it is still more so to do without one.
But, you say, we are incurring a vast expense in subduing and
controlling the country, and apparently there is no income to balance
it. Add to all this the $20,000,000 conceded by the Treaty of Paris, and
don’t you think it a rather poor investment?
Here again let us seek our answer from the experience of England in
Egypt and in India. In both of these countries her outlay of money
originally was enormous, and from neither of them does she now receive a
penny of revenue. She taxes them to be sure, but the taxes are spent for
the local administration—none for England. It is from trade with these
countries—the greater because of her greater prestige—trade which is of
mutual benefit, that England derives any revenue whatsoever, but that is
enormous. Yet she does not forbid other nations to trade with them nor
place any obstacle in their way. She has had simply the advantage of
greater prestige and commercial ability.
Finally one other objection must be noticed and that is the
constitutional objection. As to the merits of this question, let
constitutional lawyers decide; but if the country has been expanding
ever since it began, and all the arguments of statesmen, big and little,
have not prevented it from expanding, it would seem to be not so much a
constitutional question as it is one of national policy and
international law. At any rate the constitution was made for America and
not America for the constitution; and while it is one of the ablest of
documents, nobody considers it faultless or supposes it ever could be.
James Bryce in a burst of enthusiasm says of us: “Such a people could
work any constitution”.
It is impossible to speak in so short a time of all the points involved
in expansion, or even of the one case we have been considering, the
details of which we can well afford to omit, if it is justified by
political, international, commercial and especially ethical
considerations.
We will now listen to questions.
* * * * *
As soon as the opportunity was given there were several ready to take
advantage of it, and the questions came fast and furious—almost.
“Professor”, said one, “it seems to me that I see several
inconsistencies in your position. You will not mind my saying so?”
“Certainly not. Proceed.”
“In the first place, you say that a government is a ‘growth’, and yet
you would impose the authority of our government upon the Philippines.
Why not give their government a chance to grow?”
“Very good; but suppose instead of resulting in a growth the Philippine
attempt proves abortive, as we have every reason to suppose that it
would? You seem to assume that growth must result necessarily; but an
egg is more likely to spoil than to hatch when left without protection,
and so it has proved with republics. The trouble with you theorizers is
that you begin at the wrong end in building up your Philippine republic.
You begin at the top, the general government, the president and
legislature, instead of beginning at the bottom, the precinct or
township. To be sure the need of a general government is imperative and
immediate, but things never grow in that way. Now, what do we propose to
do in the Philippines? We propose to substitute our own power for the
general government while the real government is growing up among the
people. In all self-government life begins at the extremities, not at
the center.”
“And do you propose to withdraw as soon as it has attained full growth?”
“We propose to let that question alone until full growth has been
attained. It is quite unlikely that the American people will ever care
to impose their government upon an unwilling people who are abundantly
able to take care of themselves. It is much more likely when that time
shall come, that as a Filipino has expressed it, ‘the Filipinos will be
better Americans than the Americans themselves’, just like the English
colonists in their loyalty to the mother country”.
“That is all very well; but I still discover some assumptions in your
answers. In the first place you assume that the Filipinos are incapable
of organizing a government for themselves, and in the second place you
assume that we Americans will be entirely disinterested in maintaining
our authority over them. If you can satisfy me upon these points I will
accept all you have said.”
“I am sorry I can’t prove everything, and must therefore make some
assumptions”, said the Professor, “but as to the first I shall simply
refer you to the testimony of those who know them best, which to me is
conclusive upon this point. But the point itself is secondary to our
international obligation to re-establish law and order. As to the second
assumption, again I have little to say, though there is much to be said.
I am happy to believe not only in the general efficiency of our
government, particularly the general or Federal government, but also in
its integrity of character and the honesty of its administration.”
“Professor”, said another man, “I suppose I am what you would call a
fanatic; for I am foolish enough to prefer my own government simply
because it is mine and not because it is the best.”
“You may be uninformed rather than fanatical, my friend. Did you ever
live any length of time in Central or South America?”
“No.”
“Well, suppose you go down to Nicaragua, or Venezuela, or Colombia, or
Hayti for four or five years; then when you come back—that is if you
come back alive—count up the annual and semi-annual revolutions you have
seen, and then tell us what you think about it. Don’t you see that you
are getting the sentiment of patriotism and the science of government
somewhat mixed. You may love your country all you will and independently
of its government, but the only justification for the latter should be
its efficiency—efficiency in securing life, liberty and justice to all.”
“I should like to ask a question”, said another man.
“Very well.”
“I should like to know how you would prove that the Anglo-Saxon is the
one race which by common consent has best solved the problem of
self-government.”
“Let me refer you for your answer to ‘Anglo-Saxon Superiority’ by Edward
Demolin, a gifted French writer; also for the influence of the British
and the American constitutions let me refer you to the history of almost
any legislative body in the world. I think this last reference in itself
is sufficient.”
“It seems to me, Professor, that your frequent references to England,
especially at this time, are rather unfortunate, if you will allow me
the liberty to say so; for a country with so shady a reputation as hers,
cannot be held up for admiration. Will not your advocacy of expansion
suffer from such an unsavory comparison?”
“Perhaps”, said the Professor, “I may be pardoned for departing so far
from the subject of the evening as to reply to your criticism, since it
leads up to the answer to your question.
“Has England a ‘shady reputation’? Certainly, among those who are
jealous of her, and everybody outside of Anglo-Saxon sovereignty has
good reason to be jealous of her. But is there no better foundation for
this reputation than mere jealousy? Certainly; in her dealings with
Ireland, in the early days in India, and in her treatment of the
American colonists her policy was sometimes uninformed, sometimes unwise
and even cruel and oppressive, and her historians offer no defense for
it. Has she displayed unusual cruelty in her conquests? By no means; she
has displayed such unusual activity in colonization—in doing police duty
for the world, in substituting intelligent force for misdirected force,
that as a natural result she is disliked by a great many people. It is
not to be supposed that her purposes in colonization have always been
unselfish—perhaps they never have been so; but her purposes and methods
in administration are unselfish, and thus she has taught the world the
secret that Rome failed to find—how to knit together a great colonial
empire.
“You speak of the present unfortunate Transvaal war. So far as this
bears upon your question I have only this to say; my sympathies are with
the English, because, disregarding the merits of the original
controversy, about which none of us who read both sides dare be
positive, the English are our own kindred; and because we could never
forgive ourselves if we were to forget the noble, generous and fraternal
part that England played in 1898, the consequences of which she is now
suffering in the hostility to the Anglo-Saxon. I do not dismiss the
original controversy because it is unimportant—for the question of right
or wrong far outweighs all other considerations—but in the conflict of
opinions and the appeals to passion the American, it seems to me, should
dismiss all; and if he feels that he must take sides, he will find that
the considerations of race, national interest and national gratitude, as
well as the greater probability of just government, are all on the side
of the British arms.
“And now as to the point of your question: England can scarcely be held
up to us as a ‘horrible example’ of what is likely to happen to a nation
which allows itself to expand, because at the very worst the example
isn’t sufficiently horrible. But more than that, our acquisitions have
all come to us peacefully and gladly, except one fifth of the Filipinos,
and our whole course has been singularly devoid of mistakes, and I can
imagine that in the future this period, safely passed, will be regarded
as one of the most brilliant and successful in our history.”
[Illustration: THE END.]
------------------------------------------------------------------------